Page 67 of Bears Not Included

He reaches down and touches my clit. One stroke, and I explode all around him, falling apart until I’m shaking in his arms. He pulls me back onto his cock, takes my lips again, and then, for a long moment, he remains still inside me, just kissing me, not moving.

He teases me with his tongue; he draws on my breath, then gives me his, and when I can’t take his teasing anymore, I groan softly and attack his mouth. And that’s when Mason comes—when I kiss him.

“Thank you,” he says huskily in my ear when his cock stops pumping inside me. He pulls out and immediately sets me back down again, and then he cups my pussy filled with their cum.

“Ours,” Mason says.

I close my eyes, and I realize instantly that I’ve somehow, against all odds, fallen in love with each of them. Deacon. Callen. Mason. I thought I would need a lifetime to try to sieve through my feelings, and it wouldn’t be enough. But everything is so clear to me now.

There’s no going back for me. I can’t undo this. I don’t know how or when it happened. But I love them, and I know it’s true because even if they had to give me back to Kirill Yenin to protect their name and their organization, I would still love them.

Until the end of time.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Livia

I feel as if I’m living someone else’s life and it plays like a movie in my head. From trying to prove that fairytales exist for my mom’s sake to finding the cottage.

And when I did find the cottage, it felt as if my life had just begun. As if I were dormant before and nothing else except my mom, Faith, and my girls at FFF mattered.

But then the things they made me do still make my cheeks burn with ignominy, but every other thing they did to me afterward peeled away even more of my modesty until I was left completely bare for them.

The descendants of Bernard, Barrett, Bruin, and Goldenia exist. And they’re the most powerful men in the world.

“They exist, Mom,” I whisper, but she’ll never get to meet them. She’ll never get to have a conversation with Veronica, whose family also worked for the Ursids. My mom would have loved Veronica.

And then I think of the Ursid ritual. My hand goes to my stomach. It’s stupid, I know. I don’t know what I’m doing.

After last night, it’s no wonder that I slept through the whole morning and a bit of the afternoon as well. I glance around the bedroom, except I don’t think it can be called just a bedroom since it takes up the space of the entire floor.

The bed itself is custom-made and huge—ginormous, even. There’s a lounge area, a bar, a stunning desk, and beautifully carved furniture, not to mention a whole library, and a fireplace. The art on the walls is priceless, the chandeliers glitter with real crystal adornments.

The entire walk-in closet with clothes and accessories bought for me from the room on the floor below has been brought up here. There are three other closets, and they’re filled with suits.

Theirs.

I was carried up here. Bathed in that equally enormous bathroom, my pain soothed, and my body caressed. I was fed, then fell asleep in strong arms, minutely aware when I was swapped from one set of arms to another.

They worshiped me. I was revered. Adored. I don’t know how to handle any of that. After my mom died, the emptiness inside me was insurmountable. I pretended I was okay but I wasn’t. And when I stopped crying myself to sleep every night, her death bothered me; it ate at me because she left me.

She left me alone with a cold-hearted man when she told me she would love me forever.

And then she died before he could love me. I don’t know how I would have survived any longer without Faith. She filled a portion of my broken heart and I love her more than anything in the world. She makes me smile and laugh and brings so much joy to my life. I miss her so much, and now I can’t wait to see her.

Tomorrow. I trust them. I think I always trusted them. It’s safe for Faith to come and see me here. I can hardly wait. A feeling similar to happiness glides over me and I don’t know what to do about it. It’s so foreign to me.

I love them. Not because they’re protecting me from a vicious wild man. I love them because of who they are behind their stoic masks. And last night, an indomitable completeness stole over my vacantness, and it left me filled and serene.

I awoke alone but I wasn’t alone for long. By late afternoon, a very animated Veronica arrived. She asked me intimate questions about my pain, and on their instructions, a doctor was coming to look at me now that I was awake.

There was no getting out of it.

“You spotted last night, which is normal given the circumstances, and they just want to make sure you’re fine. Don’t worry,” Veronica adds. “She’s a female doctor. They would never have a male doctor looking at their most treasured possession.”

I guess I should take comfort in that. And I did spot a bit, but I feel fine except, of course, for a bit of discomfort.

After the doctor arrives and pronounces me fine, Veronica insists I wear a dress to dinner. Except it isn’t just a dress. It’s a gown that a princess would wear. The fabric is so soft that it slips like liquid over my skin and down my curves. The layers of pale pink satin sweep the floor and are adorned modestly with crystals and diamonds. I know that it costs an incredible fortune.

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