The Bear Rules: A Boxed Set of Shifter Romance
The Bear Rules
A Boxed Set of Bear Shifter Romance
Michele Bardsley
Contents
Bear Witness
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Honey Bear
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Bear Winter
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Copyright
Bear Witness
1
RAFE PEARSON LEANED against the doorjamb and stared at the falling snow. Ominous clouds roiled in the night sky, stealing light from the moon and stars. The December weather ventured into the cabin only to be repelled by the crackling fire in the hearth and the soft comfort of candlelight. He felt the winter chill through his thick, long sleeved shirt, but he couldn’t blame his shivers on mere cold.
He was afraid.
Where was she?
The wind answered his silent question with swirling dead leaves and rattling naked tree limbs. Usually, he was very satisfied with this view—the forest all around his home, pure nature just steps away. It soothed his human need for solace and his animal need for primal connection. These ten acres were his small part of Mt. Charleston. His house was the only one around for miles, and he liked it that way. The highway that led to the nearby ski resort was a good thirty-minute walk—if he were only using two legs.
Rafe cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Wolf!”
The old girl meant the world to him, his only company in these lonely days—days that had somehow turned into years. Nearly three years, if anyone kept count. He tried not to, but his brothers and sisters certainly had. The family consensus seemed to be it was time for him to move on.
Yeah? How the fuck was he supposed to do that?
Unfortunately, the Pearson clan was all stubborn resolve wrapped in fierce love. He had to admit that his siblings’ visits and his mother’s casseroles were beginning to have the intended effect. But he wasn’t ready. His wife Samantha and his unborn child had died—and with them, a part of his own soul. He would decide when to stop grieving, not them.
The log cabin protested the incoming snowstorm—its creaks and groans as familiar as a favorite song. Rafe crossed the porch, leaning out over the railing to study the tree line. He understood the irony of a bear shifter befriending a forest animal. An irony that increased a hundredfold when one counted all the wolf shifters who lived in the surrounding areas. Hell, the Shadow Pack headquarters was three hours northeast of Las Vegas. And the Blood Pack was closer than that. Blood Pack. He scowled. Now there was a bunch of mangy assholes.
The one o’clock hour chimed from the Grandfather clock in his front room. One a.m. and she’s still not home. Rafe had no chance in hell of finding Wolf in the dark, much less in the storm, but the bad odds didn’t stop him from putting on his coat and snow boots. She had never given up on him, and he owed her. He stomped out to the porch and shut the door behind him.
Her howl stopped him from taking another step. Relief rushed through him and dissipated the tension bunching his shoulders. He waited, watching the edge of the woods. Since he was a bear shifter, his other senses were better than a human’s, including his vision. He saw the trees sway, their scraggly branches reaching up as if to touch the thickening gray clouds. There. Her gray fur was nearly invisible against the snow, but the big purple bag clenched in her teeth stood out like a beacon.
What had she found?
Wolf ambled to the porch and lowered the bag at his feet. He knelt and hugged her, running his hands along her thick fur. She allowed his affection for a moment, then slipped out of his embrace and nosed the bag, looking at him expectantly.
“Okay, girl. What did you bring me?”
Rafe noticed the holes cut in the top. What was in here that had gotten Wolf’s attention? Foreboding clenched his stomach as he unzipped the bag.
Shock electrified him.
An infant. He studied the frilly blankets and pink crocheted hat. A girl, he thought, probably three or four months old.
“Holy shit.”
Startled by his fervent exclamation, the baby curled her rosebud lips and wailed, shaking her tiny mitten-covered fists at him.
Rafe looked at Wolf. She offered him a solemn, unblinking gaze. “Where the hell did you find a baby?”
2
GRETCHEN MYERS WOKE to an endless and rhythmic beeping. She was strapped to a bed—the only thing she recognized in the cloying darkness. Her head throbbed and her chest hurt. He’d found her. Her stepsister’s demented husband had found Gretchen and imprisoned her. He would kill her.
Just like he’d killed Vivian.
Gretchen bit back an anguished wail.
A swath of white cut through the room’s utter blackness. Fear awakened inside her, but it was dull and thick, like chilled honey. Through heavy-lidded eyes, Gretchen watched a stocky female figure walk briskly to the bed and reach above her head. A light flickered on. She blinked into the harsh brightness, attempting to focus on the woman hovering above her.
Gretchen noted the kind face, the short silvery gray hair, and the blue scrubs. She squinted at the plastic rectangle pinned on the woman’s top. Sally Shake, R.N. She moved her arms and realized her what she believed to be a strap was actually an IV line inserted into her right wrist.
“Where am I?” Her voice sounded like the metallic squeal of a rusted hinge. She tried to wet her mouth, but it was like swallowing cotton. She coughed, and pain pulsed in her ribs. Ouch.
“Hello there! I’m Sally. You’re at Summerlin Hospital. They brought you in last night.” Sally seemed to intuit Gretchen’s dire thirst. She poured water from a pink plastic jug into a cup. “Here you go, sweetie. Just a little bit. Enough to get your mouth wet.”
Gretchen lifted her head and took small sips, resisting the urge to gulp. The cold water was pure nirvana, and in the moment, better than any liquid she’d ever tasted. After a few moments, she sank back onto the pillow. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I feel so tired.”
“It’s the meds.” The grandmotherly woman patted Gretchen’s arm. “You’re banged up, but you’ll be okay. Do you remember anything about the car accident?”
Memory flickered. The dark winding road. Twin dots of light appearing in the rearview mirror. Fear knotting her throat. Her hands shaking. Metal crunching. Tires screeching. Terrified screams. Hers. Kaylie’s.
Oh, my God. “Is the baby all right?”
Sally turned from checking the monitors. “Baby?”
“Yes. My … uh, daughter. Kaylie. She’s almost four months old.” Gretchen’s heart thudded. Had Kaylie been hurt when the sedan crashed into the trees? No. She had to believe the baby was all right. Gretchen couldn’t let Vivian down, not when her stepsister’s final act on this earth had been to protect that sweet baby girl.
“I’ll go check on your daughter. The doctor will be here any minute.” Sally’s smile offered reassurance, but Gretchen knew better than to trust anyone. Especially people hiding behind masks of being friendly professionals. Her hazy
memory seemed to go in and out of focus—sharp one second, blurred the next. She couldn’t think straight. Please, please, please let Kaylie be okay.
In last twenty-four hours, Gretchen’s entire world had been turned upside-down with one run-in from a woman she hadn’t seen or heard from since they were teens. It was only by chance that they had re-connected. Or so Gretchen had thought. She realized now that running into Vivian at Caesar’s hadn’t been coincidence.
Vivian’s father and Gretchen’s mother had been blackjack dealers at the Drift Resort. It was a whirlwind courtship and an impulsive marriage. The relationship lasted less than five years. When Gretchen was fifteen and Vivian was seventeen, their respective parents divorced. Mom took her to Michigan so they could live closer to her grandparents, and Vivian and her father stayed in Vegas. Gretchen hadn’t been back to Nevada since … until yesterday.
How had her stepsister known that she was in Las Vegas? She’d unexpectedly won a vacation getaway a month ago, one that was only good for the first weekend in December. Gretchen was headed to a spa appointment when she spotted Vivian striding down the hallway. Their brief interaction consisted of a hug and a “How have you been?” conversation that lasted maybe two minutes. Vivian left with a smile and a wave. Later, after Gretchen went to her hotel room, she discovered a note in her jacket pocket.
Meet me at the address below at midnight. Park at the end of the driveway and go to the side door. Be as quiet as possible. I’ll explain everything when you arrive. I’m sorry to burden you, Gretchen, but you’re the only one I can trust. Please help me save my daughter.
A normal person would’ve called the police and handed the matter over to them. But Gretchen knew Vivian wasn’t a normal person—she knew her stepsister’s secret. Vivian was a werewolf. She had revealed her other self to save Gretchen. So, if Vivian was in trouble, Gretchen was more than glad to re-pay the debt.
At her stepsister’s instructions, Gretchen followed her rental car’s GPS directions to the address, which turned out to be an unbelievably luxurious mansion tucked onto the side of Mt. Charleston. The moment Gretchen arrived at the side door, Vivian opened it and handed her the purple bag that contained her most precious treasure.
Kaylie.
I don’t care about me, but my daughter deserves better. You have to take her. Please.
We’ll all leave together, Vivian.
There’s no escape for me.
Don’t say that. Come on. Let’s just go.
You don’t understand. My husband is Rand Blackthorne.
Blackthorne! Is he related to—
It’s complicated, Gretch. I don’t want her last name to be his. I don’t want his legacy to belong to her. When he’s … he’s distracted, you hold onto my baby and run.
Distracted? What’s going on?
Take Kaylie to Bleed City, Nevada. Ask for Aunt Lila. She’ll know what to do.
Gretchen had protested, but Vivian paled and whispered, “Rand’s coming.” She pushed the door closed between them, and Gretchen heard the lock click. The pretty square window sparkled in the moonlight. Its charming lace curtain gaped in the middle, offering a slivered view into the mudroom.
She stood frozen on the tiny concrete porch, hand raised to knock, desperate for Vivian to change her mind. Then a large man, who had to be Rand Blackthorne, stormed inside yelling and pointing a gun, so enraged he didn’t notice a witness. Gretchen would never forget his face. She would never forget the savage monster that appeared so quickly as he raised the gun and shot his wife point-blank in the head.
Gretchen swallowed a jagged, hollow scream.
Tears streaming down her face, she clutched the baby to her constricted chest … and ran.
“Miss?”
Startled, Gretchen blinked away the memories and looked at the man who stood in the doorway, a chart in his hand. He was tall, lean, and wore a white lab coat. He had short brown hair and a nondescript face. “Who are you?”
“I’m Dr. McClure.” He crossed to the room, his expression polite and professional. However, his brown eyes were confident and kind. Gretchen relaxed. “You’re Ms. Myers?”
“How did you know that?”
“From your driver’s license. Your purse was among the items EMS collected when they took you from the accident scene.”
“Oh. Of course.”
“Do you remember anything?”
“Bits and pieces. How did I get here?”
“Frat boys on their way to the ski resort found you right after the accident. You managed to leave the car, but then you passed out. You’re very lucky. You didn’t suffer any negative effects from lying in the snow—no hypothermia or frostbite.”
“What about the baby? Is she okay?”
The doctor frowned. “I’ll check with pediatrics after we’re done, okay? Now, let’s see how you’re doing.”
He’d barely started his examination when Sally returned, anxiety and concern apparent in her expression. “Sweetie, I checked with the nurse who was on shift when you came in. You were alone. They didn’t find a baby.”
“Call the police,” said Dr. McClure. “We’ll need search and rescue out there immediately.”
Sally bustled away to do as the doctor directed. Dr. McClure patted her hand. “Don’t worry, Ms. Myers. We’ll do everything we can to find your child.”
Gretchen felt the blood drain from her face. Images and sounds filled her mind. She’d put Kaylie in the built-in pull-down child seat and harness in the back of her sedan. At the time she’d rented the car, the agent had mentioned the feature among many others when selling her the upgrade. She was glad she’d gone for luxury instead of practicality.
The next thing Gretchen remembered was a large, ugly truck roaring up behind her car and smacking into the bumper.
Spinning.
Sliding.
Slamming.
Dazed, she’d pushed down the air bag and unbuckled the seat belt. The door opened and she fell out. Bitterly cold snow seeped into her clothes as she struggled to stand. From the back seat, Kaylie started to cry. The baby had survived the crash.
Gretchen’s relief was short lived. The truck that had caused her to drive off the road pulled up behind her vehicle.
Kaylie’s cries turned into tiny, angry howls.
Then she’d heard another howl, this one deeper, longer—an answer to the baby’s distress.
She fell forward, the earth spinning beneath her. That must’ve been the moment she went unconscious. Hearing that eerie howl was the last thing she remembered—everything afterward was a blank.
Snapping back to the present, Gretchen looked at Dr. McClure as panic clawed through her. Surely, the EMTs wouldn’t have missed Kaylie if they’d thought to get her purse out of the car. Had Rand gotten to the baby? If her rescuers had found her right after the crash, maybe Rand didn’t have time to kidnap his daughter. Gretchen didn’t know what was worse: Vivian’s child falling into the hands of her murderer, or Kaylie lying somewhere in the woods, buried in snow.
Breathe, Gretchen. Think. Kaylie had a better chance because she wasn’t human. Wolf shifters were stronger in mind and in body. But she was still so young. How long could she survive?
“You have to find Kaylie.” Gretchen clutched at the doctor. “Please,” she cried. “Please! You have to find her!”
“Calm down. I don’t want you to bust open your stitches or aggravate your concussion.”
“You have to find that child. I promised. I promised.”
“Sshh.” Dr. McClure reached over and pushed a button on Gretchen’s IV line. “Everything will be all right, Ms. Myers.”
Gretchen felt suddenly lethargic. Her eyelids drooped. “What…did…”
“It’s okay,” soothed the doctor. “You need the rest.”
Gretchen sank, unwilling, into oblivion.
3
4
Ten Years Ago…
THE LAUGHTER WAS the worst part. The boys enjoyed Gretchen’s torme
nt. They knew the desert better than she did, so they followed her at a pace set to terrorize. Far enough away to make her think she might escape—close enough that a quick sprint would allow them to catch her.
They’re going to hurt me.
Sneaking out and going to the senior party in Red Rock Canyon had been a big mistake. Now, Gretchen was running amid the clusters of rocks and scrub brush, sand filling her shoes, breath stalling in her lungs, and fear clouding her thoughts.
“What’s wrong, baby?” yelled Trent. “I thought you liked us!”
“That’s right! You know you want some of this,” added Jacob.
They whooped with more laughter.
Tears scalded Gretchen’s cheeks. Trent and Jacob had been so nice to her at school. They were popular and cute, the football jocks that most girls crushed on. She’d let them talk her into attending the annual bonfire—an unofficial tradition honored by graduating classes. Lower classmen rarely got invited. So when Trent and Jacob had approached her, not only asking her to go, but also offering a ride in Trent’s new Mustang, she’d been flattered. Vivian had tried to warn her, but Gretchen wouldn’t listen. You’re just jealous that they like me and not you.
But her stepsister had been right. Trent and Jacob hid ugly natures made uglier still by their sense of entitlement. As they drank beer after beer, flirting turned into aggression. She had accepted a can because everyone else was drinking, and she didn’t want to stick out as the goody two shoes. She tried a sip, but instantly disliked the foamy wheat taste. It didn’t take long for Trent and Jacob to separate her from the others. They closed in around her, trying to touch and kiss her. Don’t be a bitch. You should be happy we picked you, Gretchen. You’re lucky.
“Don’t be a baby. We’re just messing with you,” taunted Jacob.
“C’mon, Gretchen. Stop running,” yelled Trent. “We’ll take you back to the party.”