Page 26 of Bears Not Included

The cottage is somewhat sacred to us. It’s never been breached in the hundreds of years of its existence, and it goes back to our first ancestors, Bernard, Barrett, and Bruin Ursid, merchants by day and mob bosses by night.

The men whose bloodline made us what we are today. Their propensity for violence and their cunningness to execute it without anyone ever knowing it was them are in our genes. We’re the kings of the Ursid Syndicate because we’re better than everyone else.

We know our history. We know that Bernard, Barrett, and Bruin were purported to be bear shifters. Whether it’s true or not, it doesn’t matter. It’s our origin story, and we respect it.

When our three ancestors died immediately after losing the love of their lives, a servant who first tried to sell their story and who was then considered possessed by the devil in England fled to America. He found the cottage and took care of it, keeping everything as it was, as an ode to his masters.

He did so for two years until Bernard, Barrett, Bruin, and Goldenia’s three sons were old enough to inherit their family’s substantial wealth and take care of matters. They were curious and traveled to America to find the cottage where their parents had fallen in love, and that’s when they met Alfred Winston.

Since then, the cottage has been regarded as a treasure for the Ursid family. Alfred Winston was the first official caretaker. Over the years, many others were awarded the task of taking care of the cottage.

Everything inside was to remain the same. But it was also the place where their sons decided to keep the Ursid family’s most treasured possession and where it still resides today. A rare painting that would be considered priceless and the most valued Ursid family heirloom ever. It was a painting of Goldenia and her three husbands.

If it were ever taken from us by the right people, that painting could be used as a bargaining chip to reduce our power and wealth to next to nothing. To an Ursid, that painting is who we are.

And now we have a little intruder who, in an instant, turned our lives upside down when she stepped into our vision.

I can’t stop watching her as she tries to get herself released from the handcuff on her wrist. She became frantic after we told her she had to wait for us. She clearly does not want to meet us.

I watch as she tosses from side to side, thrashing around, as if she could pull herself free of the cuffs on her left wrist. But she’s also very conscious of us watching her, evident in the way she tries to keep her legs closed, which is impossible given that she wants to get herself released.

And when I catch a glimpse of the wetness that is still seeping from her pussy, just like her breasts are still leaking milk, she makes me want to touch her.

Wrap my hand around her throat and squeeze until her sleek, gleaming body struggles against me, gasping for air that only I can give her. I want to fuck her the same way, until she struggles to take me and gasps for air as I tear her apart. And then I want to watch her breathe as she looks at me, giving me her whole life to do with as I please.

My body aches like it has never ached before. My cock is so hard now that it pains me, and suddenly I’m convinced I need her.

We need her.

Fuck.

She’s so fucking innocent that when we breed her, she’ll cleanse me of my sins because she’s an angel, and nothing I give her can break her or taint her.

Mason runs his hands through his hair, and a deep, heavy sigh drops from Callen’s chest as we watch the girl on our monitor. She’s indescribably perfect. And we’re reacting to her the same way.

We’ve never been influenced by a woman this way before, and yet she’s nothing but a young girl. She’s so out of our league, she doesn’t even exist on our radar.

It suddenly becomes crystal clear why we didn’t kill her on sight when we know exactly who she is and who she’s connected to.

We’re going to keep her for ourselves in whatever capacity we choose whether she likes it or not. In our beds with her legs spread open every minute of the day for us or chained in a cell with her legs spread open for us every minute of the day.

Still, no matter all the depraved, fucking obscene ways Callen, Mason, and I will fuck her, we won’t be able to take away her innocence because it seems to be in her soul, and her soul belongs to us now, whoever she is, whatever connections she has.

Discovering that Livia Daniels’ mother was a descendant of Alfred Winston—and that took us by surprise because it was something we didn’t know—was one thing. It could also explain how she came to know about the cottage. And maybe her intentions were pure.

But finding out who her father was and who she was going to marry was another thing. Was she there to steal their painting? Probably.

The girl whose breasts we made leak into Mason’s bowl, whose sweet pussy juices stained Callen’s chair, and who was currently leaving her scent on my bed… is Kirill Yenin’s future bride.

Despite how conclusively she needs to die, we’re taking her. All of her. Her body. Her life. Her soul. And her name. She just became the bride of the Ursid Syndicate.

Chapter Thirteen

Livia

Now, more than ever, I need to escape. Meeting my tormentors is the same as being abducted and moved to another location. It’s almost always inevitably over for the victim.

The steel cuffs on my wrist bite into my skin as if they have teeth. I pull so hard that I’m at risk of breaking my wrist or dislocating my shoulder. And with every movement I make, I’m cruelly aware of my nakedness.

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