Page 109 of Trusting Her Bear

“One week,” I decide.

“Okay,” she agrees. “I want to get married here.”

“Right here?” I point to the ground at our feet.

“Yes.”

“We can do that.” I kiss her. “I think you need to work on being a brat,” I inform her. “I caught you easily, and you haven’t tried to leave my arms,” I point out.

She shrugs. “I’ll work on it, but I’m where I want to be, so we both win.”

“Yes, we do.” I step back, out of her reach. “Daddy is ready to fuck his Little Cub. I can either do that here or back at the house. I’ll let you decide.” I nod in the direction of home. “If you want to go home, run.” Then I open my arms wide. “Here, walk into my arms. Your choice.” I keep my arms open, but I’m not sure what option she is going to take.

She looks at my arms and then at my face. “I really liked you chasing me, and I want to do that again,” she says and takes a step toward me. “But I don’t want to run from you right now. You are my home. I want to be wherever you are, and as much fun as the chase was, I don’t feel like running.” She takes another step, and another, until she steps in between my arms, her head tilted back, her love shining. “I will always choose you. I choose our love. I choose the bond. I want my Daddy in front of the tree where I will marry you. I love you. Do you believe me?”

I close my arms around her, holding her tight.

“I do believe you. I will always believe you.” I ease her to the forest floor. I use the fingers of one hand as cuffs and press her hands to the ground above her head. “I don’t mind dealing with a bad girl.” I drag her dress up with my other hand. “But I love my good girl.” I dip my head, hovering over her lips. “Let me show you all the things Daddy does to a good girl.”

My Little Cub was a very good girl.

But as the weeks went by, we both enjoyed the consequences of being bad.

Epilogue

Micah

Ilove the thrill of the chase. I have spent six hundred years doing it, and it never gets old. I enjoy watching them, learning their habits, watching their minds work, and guessing what they will do next. I have dedicated my life to eliminating the assholes of the world. It fills the emptiness in my soul. It gives me a purpose and a way to fill the hours of the day. Sure, there is the side benefit of protecting innocents and keeping my world secret.

But I also like to see them bleed.

I love blood.

The smell of it.

The taste of it.

The energy and power it gives.

I watch the coyote from the shadows. He is talking to a woman who has no idea the sick things he does to his conquests. I tilt my head. Why is he so successful with ladies? I don’t understand the attraction. He is of average height and build, and his eyes are constantly moving around the room, never giving them his full attention. I switch my gaze to the human woman. She can see his roaming eyes. She’s talking fast, touching his arm, and smiling blindingly. She wants him to choose her.

Whether human, shifter, or vampire, don’t we all want to be chosen?

All the years I have lived, watched, and hunted that is the common factor. So many of them do all they can to be funny, beautiful, skinny, smart, and worthy of everyone's approval and love.

I still don’t understand humans.

But I enjoy their blood, whether I am spilling it or drinking it.

I look around the bar. I could kill everyone in here with little effort. In an average kill, I barely use any of the power I possess. I could melt them from the inside out without lifting a finger. They wouldn’t see me coming—shit, they can’t see me standing with my back against the wall. I have absorbed the lives of thousands and thousands of people. When I drink their blood, I also take any power they have.

In the old days, I wasn’t picky about who I drank from or who I killed. I drank from shifters and humans. I have evolved somewhat. I like to get permission from donors now, or I drink from blood bags. A live donor is preferable, but it’s not always possible. I could use my influence to talk anyone into baring their neck to me. Unfortunately, the years on this earth and the things I have seen and done have caused me to grow a conscience.

Pity.

I lick my lips. So many delicious flavors of blood floating in the air.

Tempting.

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