Fantasy Lynxed [Teeth, Nails and Tails] - Brynn Paulin

[raone453k]

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“Summer, wake up.” She grumbled and turned her face into the pillows. She didn’t want to wake up—even the sheets smelled like Bar, and she wanted more of him. “Wake up, anyway. We need to talk.” Had she spoken aloud again? Turning over, she looked up at Bar. He sat on the edge of the bed, fully dressed. Mika was nowhere in sight. “No, you didn’t speak out loud,” Bar said. “That’s what we need to talk about.” “You can read my mind?” she asked, horrified. No, no, he couldn’t. He was just reading her body language. Yes, I can, she heard in her thoughts, the voice sounding disturbingly close to Bar’s. And you can read mine. You are our mate—mine and Mika’s. Only our mate can read our thoughts. “Impossible!” she exclaimed, scrambling from the bed and yanking a blanket with her. An involuntary groan escaped her as pain clamped over her body again. It wasn’t as bad as before, but she still ached. Refusing to show weakness, she moved as far away as she could. She edged toward the doorway. Calmly, Bar rose and blocked her path. He leaned on the doorjamb and watched her. “We need to talk.” “No freaking way. You’re crazy.” “And you should have some of Grandmother’s tea to ease your pain.” “I’m not in pain,” she lied. “And even if I was, you’re not giving me that stuff again. You drugged me so I’d want you. And now, I’m hallucinating or something.” “Or something,” he echoed with a small smile. “Don’t you laugh at me!” she bellowed. She reached for the lamp, and he envisioned her whipping it at him as Xathan’s mate had done to him. “Throw that lamp, and you’ll regret it,” he said darkly, crossing his arms. “You’ll find yourself tied to the bed while I make you listen.” “I’ll scream,” she rebutted.

“I’ll gag you.” Summer paused, and he sniffed, taking in her arousal at the notion of his control over her. You smell good, nuliaba abnaba, he told her. I can tell you want me again. The smell of your need is unmistakable. “Fuck,” she muttered. “Stay out of my head, you pervert.” “I don’t need to be in your head to pick up that scent.” “You can’t smell…” She trailed off before finally finishing her thought. “…that.” “Yes, I can. There are many things you don’t know about me and Mika.” Things he couldn’t tell her right now and that he needed to shield her from seeing in his head. The mating and telepathy were already too much for her to grapple with. Still, he wanted her to know all of it. Deep down, he knew the situation might be irreparable if he told her about them being shifters too soon. “Where are my clothes?” she asked suddenly as they heard a plane overhead. His brother was returning from his daily runs. “In the dryer. Your other things haven’t yet been brought from the wreck. We’ve sent people to salvage what they can.” His eyes narrowed on her again. “Do not think you will get a ride out of here. That was the last flight of the day.” “I just want to get dressed,” she said, though he clearly heard a frustrated tirade of swear words in her head. He fought a smile, illogically enjoying the open door into his mate’s mind. All too soon, she’d learn to shield her thoughts—that was, if she stayed here and actively used the telepathy. He stepped aside. “Be my guest.”

“Like I have a choice,” she muttered as she edged past him, pressing as close to the opposite side of the doorjamb as she could. Feeling difficult, he yanked his blanket from around her as she passed. Summer gasped then ducked into the bathroom/laundry. She slammed the door behind her. He shook his head as the lock turned. She’d actually taken the telepathy news better than he’d expected. Perhaps pissing her off was the key. She might need to be good and irate for the next bit of news he’d have to share. Since it was almost dinner, he moved into the kitchen to fix them something to eat. Summer hadn’t eaten anything in over thirty hours, maybe more depending on when she’d eaten before the flight. She needed some nourishment. Off-hand, he wondered if she even knew that much time had passed since the wreck. She’d been out for so long; he and Mika had insisted Grandmother come over to check on her—twice. He pulled caribou meat from the refrigerator and placed it on the counter to make steaks. Opening the freezer, he removed frozen vegetables to go with it. They’d gotten rolls from the bakery earlier today. Living here was a whole different life than being in the contiguous United States, as Summer would soon learn. It was even different from living in the more populated portions of Alaska. They caught their own meat and had vegetables and some fruit shipped in twice a year. They rarely had fresh unless they flew into the city. It was too expensive to have produce flown in regularly, and the town was too far north for hearty crops, so they dealt with mostly frozen and canned foods. Bar and Mika stocked their huge chest freezer twice a year and only moved things to the fridge as needed. Except meat. They were excellent hunters and would provide well for Summer.

The shower came on, and he heard her moving around in the bathroom. She was fuming, but he tried to stay out of her head. Even though he was curious, he figured he didn’t really want to know her thoughts about him. At the moment, they probably weren’t very complimentary. He turned on the broiler as Mika returned to the house. His cluster mate didn’t speak for a long while, but he seemed calmer as they silently worked together to make the meal. “My parents said we need to tell her,” he finally grumbled. “I explained about the telepathy and the mating,” Bar answered, shoving the meat beneath the flames. “But not the shifting?” “No.” “We need to tell her the rest. How’d she take the other news?” Bar blew a harsh breath through his nose. “Not very good.” Mika sighed and stirred the vegetables he was cooking. “That doesn’t bode well.” “No, it doesn’t.” Without expanding, Bar picked up the rolls and butter then took them to the table. There wasn’t much more for them to say. Neither of them really knew what to do. He grabbed dishes and set the table for three, feeling some relief and satisfaction that there would finally be three at their table, even if one of their trio was a bit out of sorts right now. His hearing focused on the bathroom as he realized the water had stopped. After a moment, he heard the dryer open and shut. Seeming irate still, Summer muttered to herself while she dressed. Feeding her was a good idea. In his experience, people who were hungry tended to be cranky and unreasonable. She might listen and understand once she wasn’t starving. Besides, he didn’t know what else to do. He was accustomed to being in charge, with a clear grasp of every situation, but Summer flummoxed him. “It’s okay.” Mika laughed quietly, thumping him on the shoulder. “You’ll get your footing again soon.”

“I was thinking loudly?” “She might have even heard you.” Bar doubted that. He had a shield firmly in place when it came to her. He didn’t want her learning about the lynx before he was ready. Going back to the oven, he flipped the meat before it burned. As he straightened, Summer left the bathroom, dressed in the clothes she’d worn on the plane and with a towel wrapped around her head. She paused, staring at the two of them much like a caribou who’d picked up a hunter’s scent. And he sensed that, like a caribou, she was about to run. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes,” he said quickly. “You need to eat. It’s been over a day since the crash, and you haven’t had anything but tea.” Indecision crossed her features, and he knew she wanted to run for the bedroom and lock the door against them. Her stomach growled, and she sighed. “I am hungry,” she conceded. “Eating with you doesn’t mean something special like I’m marrying you or something? I know that was once a tradition with some Native American tribes.” “No, it’s just eating,” Bar answered. As far as his people were concerned, he, Mika and Summer were already fully joined. But by the gods, now wasn’t the time to explain that. “Okay,” she said reluctantly. She crossed to the dining area where Mika held out her chair. “Good choice, nuliaba abnaba,” he said, dropping a quick kiss on her shoulder as she sat. He pushed in her seat before she protested. “What does that mean?” she demanded. “What does what mean?” Mika hedged as he pulled down a bottle of wine. He brought it and glasses to the table while Bar removed the steaks from the broiler. “Nuliaba abnaba,” Summer practically growled, getting the pronunciation close to perfect. “Mate,” Bar said when he sensed Mika about to hedge again. More specifically, it meant “my wife”, but again, he figured he shouldn’t go there yet. “Stop calling me that,” she demanded. “I’m not your mate.” “But you are,” he replied calmly, putting meat on her plate. Mika gave her vegetables then Bar offered her bread. Her hand shook as she ignored the food and reached for the wine Mika had placed before her while Bar had talked to her. “I’m not,” she insisted then took a gulp of the amber liquid. “This is all a big mistake. I don’t care if you can read my thoughts and think I’m your cavewoman or something. I’m not! Look…I’m just not.” She took another big swallow. “Nuliaba abnaba—” Bar stopped when she glared at him. “Summer, you should eat. The wine will go straight to your head if you don’t.” “Oh, and we wouldn’t want that,” she muttered but took a bite of her roll. She picked up her steak knife, and Bar tensed. Across from him, Mika also cut his steak, but Bar sensed he too was uneasy with Summer having a sharp instrument in her hand. “Relax,” she said. “I’m not going to freak out and stab you.” She looked at Bar. No, I’ll be stone-cold sane when I do that. She blinked at him, and he sensed she was rather pleased with herself, happy that she’d been able to communicate that statement so easily. He hadn’t a doubt she’d master shielding rather quickly. More so, her thoughts made it quite clear she was purposely giving him a hard time. Summer was an “if you can’t beat them, harass them” type, and she intended to give him hell. Not that she planned to settle into being his mate. She had every intention of fighting that. “Stop digging around in my head,” she complained. She swung her gaze to Mika, and Bar realized his cluster mate had been doing the same.

“A girl can’t eat in peace around here.” “Tell us about yourself,” Mika asked. “You don’t know everything already?” “No. We can only hear your immediate thoughts—when they’re loud enough.” Bar offered her a second roll, which she took. After ripping it open, she spread butter on it. “I’m a photographer,” she said. “Well, a photojournalist mostly. I don’t do portraits or anything. I was heading north to document life in one of the remote fishing villages for the next year. There’s an anthropologist who’s been up there a while who was bringing me on as his assistant.” “How would you assist?” Bar asked. “Are you an anthropologist, too?” She shook her head. “Just one class in college. Mostly, I would be there to carry things when he needed it, to write down the stuff he needed written down and type up his notes.” “Exciting stuff,” Mika said between bites.

“Not really. The photos are the exciting part. Capturing life in an indigenous village isn’t an opportunity many photojournalists get. So, if I have to fetch and carry for the doctor, oh well.” “How does your family feel about that?” Bar wondered. She lifted a shoulder. “My mother passed away when I was little, and I don’t have any siblings. My dad’s off climbing a mountain in Tibet or something. He doesn’t care what I do as long as it doesn’t call him home.” Mika glanced at Bar then put down his fork and lifted a brow at Summer. “He’s a daredevil?” “No. A writer. He writes about extreme adventures. He does all kinds of crazy things then sells books about them.” “Like you?” Bar asked. “No!” She blinked then smiled. “I guess. Maybe. In a way. But my work’s not dangerous though.” “Depends on your point of view. You just fell from the sky in a plane,” he countered. “People fly all the time,” she argued. “Whatever you say.” He picked up his fork and took a bite of food. Mika grinned at him, silently laughing. “What other things have you taken pictures of?” Mika pushed. She was almost finished eating, and they wanted to keep her talking. Bar spooned more vegetables onto her plate as she looked at Mika. “I’ve photographed people in various countries, including the United States. You’d be surprised the interesting subcultures you can find just about everywhere. I’ve done a lot of outdoors work where I have to do survival things, too—hiking, backpacking and living off the land. Stuff like that.” She swung her gaze to Bar. “Are you fattening me up for the kill or something? You keep giving me more food.”