Page 7 of Bear with Me

The woman in question poked her head out of the cabin door, but Jasper stopped her before she could move past him.

“Get back inside until they make sure the threat is really over,” he ordered as he glanced at her. Whatever he saw had him tacking on, “Please.”

“Somebody better let me know how Jemma is as soon as she’s been assessed,” Muriel called before moving back into the cabin.

Brock focused on the sound of the ATV as it got closer. He was already moving as Fletch pulled in, reaching him quickly and taking Jemma from him. She was light in Brock’s arms, too light, too quiet. He kept glancing at her face, waiting for her to blink open those big blue eyes and sass him. She didn’t move, her face appearing even paler around the blood that covered her.

“Jensen,” he growled.

“I’ve got her. I swear. I won’t let you lose her.”

Brock prayed his brother could keep that promise.

Chapter Four

Jemma’s mouth felt as if someone had poured sand into it. She was sure her eyes had been glued shut. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get them opened. She tried to lift her hand, but something was wrapped around it, preventing her from moving her arm. She wiggled her fingers and felt the grip tighten.

“Jemma! Are you awake? Come on, baby. Open those big blues for me.”

Baby? Hell, she had to be dreaming. That would be the only place she’d hear Brock Holloway call her baby in that gruff tone that sent shivers through her body.

“Open your eyes, baby,” he ordered softly, a whispered command at her ear. “I want to see you.”

Now, she didn’t want to open her eyes. Not because he commanded her to, but because she was afraid she’d discover he wasn’t really there. No one was there for her. Not anymore. Not since she’d been locked into a cellar and left in the dark. She’d been alone for six years. Even in the Holloway den, surrounded by testosterone, she’d felt alone.

“Please, Jemma,” he begged.

Brock? Begging?

She managed to force open her eyelids only to slam them back shut at the glare of the light. It hurt. The brightness pierced into the back of her skull and made it throb. She moaned as the pain hit her. Her hand was freed, and when she managed to blink again, Brock wasn’t at her side. She knew she’d only imagined him, but it was like a gut punch to know he’d been a remnant of a dream already lost.

“Jensen!”

She gingerly turned her head toward that voice. Brock’s large frame was at the door as he called for his brother.

“Jensen!” he yelled one more time before he rushed back to her. “You’re okay. You’re safe. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

She wasn’t sure if he was talking to himself or her.

“What—” She broke off, coughing and sending sandpaper scouring over her throat.

“Brock, get her some water while I take a look,” Jensen ordered as he strode into the room.

She lifted her hand to cradle her neck, sure she’d cut it with her fit of coughing.

“Hey, there, little bear. It’s good to see you,” Jensen said. “You had us scared for a few days.”

She wanted to comment, but she needed that drink first. She lifted her hand for the cup when Brock brought it to her, but he sat beside her, wrapped his arm around her shoulders to help her sit up a bit, then held the cup to her lips.

“Slowly,” he ordered. “Take it easy. You’ve been unconscious for almost a week.”

He forced her to take sips but held the cup steady until she’d managed to swallow over half of the water. She finally pulled her head back and shook her head. He didn’t release her, though. He managed to turn and set down the cup but kept his arm around her, tugging her close to his chest and holding her there. She closed her eyes, giving her throat a moment to soak in the water.

She remembered the attack. Sending Helen running for help then the knife and the bastard drugging her.

“My side?” she asked, clearing her throat and taking another drink when Brock offered her the cup again.

“Healed,” Jensen told her. “Bastard had poison on the blade. Then he injected you with a drug to lock down your bear, so she couldn’t help you heal. It’s been a rough few days. You spiked a fever and were in and out of consciousness. I couldn’t give you anything until I made sure all the poison was out of your system. You finally stabilized enough yesterday for me to try to wake your bear.”

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