Beaufort Creek Shifters (10 book series)
The Bear’s Arranged Mate Chapter 8

Elva

If someone had told me years ago that I'd enjoy a sexless shower with a man, I would have laughed myself into an early grave. Clearly, that person wouldn't have known the first thing about me. Not that I was loose or anything like that. Just that I simply didn't waste such opportunities. Yet earlier this afternoon, I had wasted that opportunity. Jermaine had his hands all over me for several long minutes. Anything could have happened.

But all we did was shower, I thought while digging into my old closet. I yanked out a nice red gown. "Uncle Inin? I need your help!"

The recliner squeaked and then clanged into position. Footsteps padded up the hallway. A newspaper rustled along with the telltale sigh that my uncle released whenever he was putting extra effort into something.

He leaned against the door frame. Men in my family were exceptionally tall. They also sported orangis-red pair with enough freckles on their alabaster skin to make them look Irish. But not quite Irish. Just Irish enough to get some free drinks on St. Paddy's. His green eyes twinkled when he smiled. "What do you need?"

"A dress."

"You have a million dresses at your house, don't you?" He raised one eyebrow inquisitively and then shuffled the paper in his hands. "Wait, you moved into that cabin with Jermaine, didn't you?"

At the mention of his name, the hair on Uncle Irvin's neck bristled.

It was no secret that my uncle didn't like Jermaine. The two of them hadn't exchanged words at the mating ceremony and did well to avoid each other for the most part. That was fine with me. I didn't want him getting attached to Jermaine.

I shrugged. "I guess I feel like I'm out of good options." I held up the red sequin gown with the thigh sites this too much for a Mexican restaurant?"

"Depends on which one you're going to."

I practically squirmed under my sweater. "It's fancy."

"Then that should be fancy enough."

"You sure?"

He laughed while shaking his head. "El, you know I ain't too good with things like this. Your mother was better at-"

The air between us thickened abruptly. Uncle Irvin lowered his head and studied the paper in his hands, squeezing the center of the fold and turning it into a makeshift bow. He curled his fingers tighter around the paper. "Sorry, El," he whispered roughly. "I didn't mean to bring her up."

"You don't have to be sorry about that."

He huffed. "She's not worth mentioning."

"Then why mention her?"

"It was a slip, okay? I'm sorry, El. I slipped." He dragged his fingers through his hair, causing the strands to dance like wild flames. "Sometimes, I forget."

My heart dropped into my stomach. "You forget what she did to me?"

"No, I just forget that..." He refused to make eye contact. Part of me didn't blame him for that. Why would he look me in the eye and then try to pass off his sister's poor life decisions? He sighed as he shook out the paper. "Elva, you have to understand that I lost her, too."

My eyes burned with tears. Old tears. Ancient memories. Things that weren't supposed to come up right now. I had a date with Jermaine that required a nice dress and a full face of makeup.

The only reason I was getting ready at my uncle's house was because I didn't want Jermaine to see what I was wearing just yet.

With my shoulders folded inward, I turned to the mirror. "I know I look like her. I've heard you say so to others."

"It's your eyes, El. We all have the same eyes." He tried to smile. "We're tigers. We kind of have the same eyes."

"No, mine have yellow in them."

He nodded and exhaled heavily, twisting the paper again. If he kept doing that, he wouldn't have a newspaper to read anymore. "I know they do, El."

"Do me a favor?" "What's that?"

I lifted the dress to my chest, turning one way and then the other, mentally trying to picture myself in it. Years had gone by since that fateful night when Uncle Ivan had rescued me. Nathan had given us refuge. We didn't have anything to worry about anymore. As far as I knew.

I licked my lips carefully, trying to control my tone. "Will you at least try to like Jermaine?"

"It's hard to like a guy who's done nothing but pester you ever since you were a teenager."

"It's not his fault. I was always the one who-"

He puffed up, releasing one clipped laugh that was far from amused. "Haven't we discussed this before?"

"On different terms."

"And what have I taught you?"

I bowed my head. "People choose how they respond to me."

"And?"

"And," I huffed as I met his gaze in the mirror, "it's not always because of my behavior."

He nodded. "So, to answer your question, no. I can't try to get along with Jermaine. Not when he's shown me how he chooses to mistreat you."

"He's not doing it now, Uncle Irvin."

He squinted at the dress, then looked at my reflection in the mirror, then turned away. I knew this was hard for him. It was hard for me, too. Moving on after my parents was the most challenging part of my life.

Now? I was standing in front of a mirror trying to pick a dress with the second most challenging part of my life staring me right in the face.

A physical relationship with Jermaine-that was hard. While it had its benefits, it had enough drawbacks to make me regret agreeing to it. And not because I felt pressured. But because I felt like I was only going to fool myself in the end. Maybe I should end it tonight, I thought.

I forced a smile. "Alright, red dress it is."

"Where are you going to put your mace?"

I cackled. "Where do you think?"

He held up his hands, signaling that he didn't want to know. And that was probably for the best.

***

Our private booth was removed enough from the main dining area to be cozy while being close enough to the kitchen to be right within reach of our waiter. Plates appeared on the table within minutes of our arrival. Jermaine spoke fluent Spanish to the waiter and then shared a few jokes in English, allowing me to join in on the laughter.

As soon as the waiter disappeared, Jermaine gestured to our feast. "I know you prefer deer, but I thought you would like to try the steak here. Manuel makes a delicious one."

I practically salivated over my plates. Spanish spices reached my nostrils, inviting me to lean forward so I could inhale more of them. The steak looked juicy, rare, and seasoned to perfection. I was about ready to dig in when my heart lurched, making me rub my chest a few times to get it to calm down.

Jermaine seemed distracted by his meal, occupied by the live mariachi band that had just set up on the nearby stage. All I could see were wooden dividers separating me from the rest of the dining room. It felt good to be in a private area. But it also made me wonder. About a lot of things.

"If you want us to be seen together, why the private booth?" I asked. I lifted my fork and stabbed my steak, salivating over the fact that I could cut it easily. "Seriously, this is ridiculous, Jermaine."

"The booth or the steak?"

I shrugged. "Yes."

He chuckled while wiping his lips. Nearly half his plate was already gone. The guy could eat-and that was something I loved about him.

"Well, I didn't think you liked being watched while you ate," he said. "And I thought it would give us the space to talk."

That seemed logical. The booth didn't echo sound like everywhere else. It was actually relatively chill. If we had been any closer to the stage, then we wouldn't have been able to hear each other.

I tried to pass off the reason with a shrug but ended up dropping my fork instead. I groaned while lifting it back up, clutching the handle like I wasn't used to using utensils.

How embarrassing.

"Everything alright?"

Hazelnut eyes drew my attention before I could resist. It was hard to not look at Jermaine. A rugged handsomeness emanated from him, especially with all that scruff. His curls were adorable, soft enough to play with, and his features were chiseled. His personality matched his size in that he was larger than life with just about everything.

Including things worth doing behind closed doors.

I frowned at my plate. "I've just been doing a lot of thinking."

"I know."

"How can you tell?"

He smiled. "Because you're so quiet."

I picked at my steak. I picked at the black beans and rice. I tried to figure out something to say, but nothing seemed important enough. Not like how important it was to bond with him.

Just a month ago, we had been tearing each other apart. Now, we were having dinner in the middle of an upscale Mexican restaurant.

It was just weird. "You didn't ask me why my uncle didn't perform our mating ritual."

"What?"

"My uncle."

He stared at me for a long time. "I guess I figured elder meant, you know, elderly."

"There's none of that in my family."

His gaze hardened. Not at me. At something in his brain. "I can say the same for mine."

"I've only ever seen you by yourself or with the guys."

"I don't have any family left, El."

It was something I had suspected but not something I'd thought I would hear from him. I reached for his hand, dropping the fork intentionally this time and not flinching when it clattered against the wooden table.

I squeezed his fingers. "I'm sorry."

"They got killed. All of them."

That sliced my heart even more. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to. You don't even need to worry about it. I've made my peace with the whole thing. That's why I got into security."

"So you could protect people?"

His fist clenched around mine. "So I would never feel weak again."

There was no way a man like Jermaine would ever be afraid of anything. He was massive, with enough steel muscle to take down a fully grown elephant. He could pulverize just about anyone, too. Brandi had once told me about a rabid wolf that got loose in the garden behind the mansion. Jermaine had that thing in a headlock in just under ten minutes.

Yet despite his size, his strength, his logic, he was just as scared of things that go bump in the night as me.

And I wasn't sure I had ever shared such a thing with anyone.

"That's why I got into self-defense," I blurted. "I didn't want to feel weak."

"What's your wound?"

I squinted at him. "What?"

"What made you want to get into self-defense?" He tugged on my hand gently, a smile curving his lips. "And then to so skillfully teach it to others?"

"Why should I tell you?"

His face was a mere few inches from mine. "Because I'm your partner."

"That doesn't give you rights to my life."

"No, it doesn't." He sat back. "It just means I'm on your side and what you tell me won't change my perception of you."

My heart skipped several beats. Nourishment had yet to hit my system. I wasn't even interested in the food anymore. I was only interested in Jermaine, his brain, what made him tick. I wanted to share those things with him, even as I knew it would break my heart to reveal the truth.

He wasn't ready for it yet. Neither was I. "Maybe another time."

"Was it an ex-boyfriend? An old neighbor or something?"

"I can't talk about it right now, Jermaine." I snatched my hand back. "I'm sorry."

An awkward cloud of silence settled between us. The mariachi band finished their song, light applause following. I kept my eyes on my plate while counting the seconds, knowing that he wasn't going to want to be as close anymore.

Because I hadn't answered his questions. Because I hadn't given him any reason to keep me close. I wasn't giving him what he wanted.

Men like Jermaine were hard to read. They were sexual at first, giving the impression that their needs were purely physical. Then, they demanded emotional labor. Then, they wanted their laundry done. How long would it be until I was picking up his socks from the floor and acting like his therapist?

I cradled my hand to my chest and looked away. "I want to go."

"You haven't even eaten anything."

"I've lost my appetite."

He hummed curiously and then leaned against his elbow, keeping his eyes on me. While it should have been annoying, I found it endearing. Like he was chasing me down.

Like he was fighting for me.

"El?"

I looked at him.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to tell me, okay?"

I blinked. "Okay."

"Now, if you're not going to finish that steak, let me,"

I jokingly swatted his hand. "No, sir. It's delicious. I still want it for later."

"There's my girl."

"I'm not your girl."

He winked. "Fine, woman."

"I'm not your woman either."

"Here, kitty, kitty."

I snarled at him, causing him to choke with laughter. We were probably attracting attention. It didn't matter much to me.

What mattered was enjoying the way he shared space with me without demanding anything of me. It was the mark of a true partnership.

And, dare I say, the mark of a true mate.