Bear The Burn (Firebear Brides 1)
Read Bear The Burn (Firebear Brides 1) Online
Authors: Anya Nowlan
Tags: #Interracial, #BBW, #Paranormal, #Werebear, #Shifter, #Mail-Order Bride, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Fiction, #Firefighter, #Forever Love, #Adult, #Erotic, #Mate, #Suspense, #Violence, #Supernatural, #Protection, #Bachelor, #Single Woman, #Firebear Brides, #Dallas, #Bakery, #Burglars, #Brothers, #One Year, #Scheming Relatives, #Sassy, #Spirited, #Wildfires, #Shifter Grove, #Idaho, #Family Homestead, #Uncle's Will
BEAR
THE
BURN
FIREBEAR BRIDES
BOOK 1
BY
ANYA NOWLAN
A LITTLE TASTE…
It was torment, imagining those plump lips of hers curling around the head of his cock, sucking him off like she’d never had real dick before. He grunted as his jerks sped up slowly, in rhythm with the way Tiana was bobbing up and down on him in his heated daydream. The bumpy veins on his shaft seemed to stick out more and his balls filled and throbbed for release, his hand moving faster and faster.
He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even hear how the bathroom door opened, or the soft little gasp that Tiana made when she saw him through the perfectly see-through bathroom curtain.
The mewl of a moan played into his mental images perfectly and a second later he blew his load, thick and hot and sticky, against the orange tiles of the shower corner. He opened his eyes, grinning with satisfaction, only to see Tiana stare back at him with a mix of horror, excitement, and lust. His deep, resounding chuckle must have chased her all the way down the hallway as she slammed the door shut behind her.
Oh, this is going to be fun,
Royce thought, getting back to washing himself.
Copyright © 2015 Anya Nowlan
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Bear The Burn
Firebear Brides
Book 1
All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be used, reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use. This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of
Anya Nowlan
. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.
Cover ©
Jack of Covers
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
Royce
“This whole thing is ridiculous,” Royce commented to no one but himself, reading the letter he’d received from his uncle a month ago.
It was at least the twentieth time he’d been reading the damn thing, and it didn’t seem to make any more sense now than it did before. The roads leading up to Shifter Grove kept getting narrower, darker, and smaller, and for the life of him, Royce Hamilton was not sure why he was making the trip up there to begin with.
He was a city bear, through and through. The lead of one of the major fire teams of the Boston Fire Department’s Engine Company 10, he’d been doing what he loved and doing it well for a good ten years now. As far as he was concerned, he was exactly where he was supposed to be in life and nothing could sway him from that path. The sharp right turn he had to take to avoid tumbling down the side of a cliff in his big red rental Chevy reminded him that there were still things in the universe that could make him change course.
Chuckling to himself, he tossed the letter on the passenger seat and continued driving, his hands firmly on the steering wheel. His window was rolled down, and the fresh, crisp mountain air fed his lungs, making them open wider than they had in a long time. His bear was inches from pulling a classic golden retriever move and making him stick his head out the window to whiff in the scent of the forest by the lungful. Now
that
would have been something new for the serious, dedicated, and always reserved Royce Hamilton, firebear extraordinaire.
The oldest of four brothers, he’d grown up mostly in Boston and unlike the rest of his siblings, had never really wanted to leave. What could there be out there that he didn’t have in Boston? All he desired was in that city: his work, his history, his friends! But still, being in Idaho, so close to everything he’d never known but that his bear seemed to recognize instantly, the tiniest note of hesitation entered into his heart.
Shaking his head, he pushed on the gas.
The faster I get there, the faster I get out,
he told himself.
About an hour later, he rolled into Shifter Grove. It was a quaint little town, though he could smell the shifter populace a mile away. It wasn’t that they had much of a notable scent, though some of the wolves in the area certainly needed a good hosing, but that the sheer amount of testosterone and go-get-‘em attitude was pretty suffocating. Driving through the town with its dirt roads and brand-spanking new businesses—
Who needs a lawyer in bumfuck Idaho?
he had to wonder—he couldn’t help but smirk.
Boston was
so
much better.
Putting all that aside, he parked his car in front of the general goods store called Pearl’s, and climbed out. His boots hit the ground and a puff of powdery dirt rose up around his knees. Royce made a face, tucking his hands into his pockets. There was an unprecedented drought hitting the Northwest that year and if these folks weren’t careful, they were going to be dealing with a possible fire hazard soon. When he’d been driving through the forest, he’d already noticed that the ground was extremely dry. One lit match could send the whole mountainside up in flames.
Bet they don’t even have a fire station,
he thought to himself, mentally clucking his tongue.
Not that you care,
he added quickly, his bear grumbling deep in him like a stodgy old man.
Royce strolled into the store and loaded up a basket with one day’s worth of food and essentials. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that at least the store had stocked some fire prevention basics, which made him breathe a little easier.
Real Smokey Bear, aren’t you,
he thought, smirking at his own cautiousness.
Some parts of the job just ingrained themselves very deeply in a man, never mind whether he wanted it to or not.
“Ma’am,” he started, nodding to the eye-catchingly gorgeous young woman at the counter.
“Hey, stranger!” she greeted him with a grin, running his items through the till with proficiency and speed he rarely saw in Boston. “New in town?” she asked, ringing up his total. “That’ll be ten fifty-five.”
“You can say that. Just passing through,” he said, handing over ten bucks and some change. “Speaking of which, I don’t know if you can help me. I’m not entirely sure where I’m going.”
Royce tucked his hand into his pocket and fished out a piece of paper with a smudged address on it. He handed it to the pretty woman at the counter—her nametag read Pearl, so he assumed he was talking to the owner—and leaned on the counter with his elbow. As she read it her eyebrows shot up, then looked at Royce with a newfound interest.
“The Hamilton grounds? Yeah, I know where those are. You just go out of town for another twenty minutes or so down the… well, the only road that goes north, and when you hit a five-road intersection, you take one of the three that head to the west. And the next buildings you see are all the Hamiltons’. That’s a mighty big compound just to be driving through. I thought Herbert Hamilton passed away recently?”
Wow. Small towns really all… small.
He nodded tentatively, tucking the address in his pocket again and gathering up his rice and beans. “He did. Herbert was my uncle.”
“I’m sorry for your loss! He was a grouchy old bear, but I always thought he meant well,” Pearl said gently, genuine compassion in her eyes.
Royce couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, so I heard. Never met the man, actually. But he left me and my brothers the grounds and I figured I should give them a once-over before I sell them.”
“Oh,” Pearl said, slouching back with obvious disappointment. “Such a nice place to sell. Shame. Sure you don’t want to relocate? We have the best bar in a three-hundred mile radius!” she said, getting that warm smile back.
“You mean you have the
only
bar within a three-hundred mile radius!” he laughed.
“Same difference,” Pearl chuckled as Royce made to leave. “Well, anyway, if you reconsider, you’ll know where to buy your supplies!”
“I bet this is the only place within a day’s drive too,” he said with a wink.
The way she smirked back told him that he was not wrong.
Still chuckling under his breath, Royce threw the goods in the backseat and jumped in, revving the engine as he peeled off. At least a truck made sense here. In Boston, it was hard to justify something so damn big when he lived within jogging distance of the station. Then again, for a werebear, just about anything was within jogging distance.
The road to the compound was easy enough to follow since it was the only one heading out of town to begin with. It split off a few times and Royce could spot roofs of big farm houses and ranches, but he kept going until hitting the fork. He’d thought Pearl’s comment about the spike had been some sort of a mistake, but there actually were three separate roads that all seemed to head toward something behind a patch of thick forest. Taking the middle one, he gave a mental shrug to not question Idaho directions.
When he got to the actual homestead, his mouth dropped and remained firmly planted somewhere around his knees until he parked the car. The place was huge. Absolutely gargantuan. He grabbed the letter from the seat and shoved it in his pocket. Stepping out of the truck in the middle of the compound, Royce couldn’t contain his surprise.
“Holy shit,” he hissed, pulling his hand through his hair.
There were at least a few houses that had to have been a family home and living quarters for the guests and servants back in the day. A large barn that could have once been red stood behind the homes, and he could spy the remnants of countless cattle yards and paddocks. Strolling through the massive lands, he found several sheds and what might have once been an engine repair shop from the tools sprawled around.