Eventide of the Bear

  About Eventide of the Bear

  The Wild Hunt Legacy: Book 3

  Erotic paranormal ménage romance

  There’s a reason why Cherise Sinclair is on my auto-buy list: she writes fantastic erotic romances with great stories and wonderful characters.

  ~ The Romance Reviews

  She risked her life to save a human child. Pain was her reward.

  All her life, Emma longed for someone to love. Instead, disaster sees the brand-new bard banished from her people for long lonely years. Injured saving a child, the werebear has to steal food from humans, breaking shifter Law. The territory’s Cosantir and his lethal grizzly warrior catch her in the act. To her surprise, she’s healed and welcomed. Obviously, they don’t know her past. But oh, she can’t resist being around other shifters—especially the captivatingly powerful warrior. Maybe she can stay…just a little while.

  As a grizzly warrior, Ben is ordered to house the pretty werebear until she heals. His littermate abandoned him, his home is empty, and he’s been alone for a long time. Intelligent and sweet and lushly curved, Emma is a delight…even if she is oddly reticent about her past. Although having sworn off females, he’s sorely tempted by this one. Damned if he doesn’t want to keep her, secrets or not.

  Females were trouble. Years past, one split Ryder from his littermate. Now the panther shifter is returning to Ben, bringing his cub with him, a four-year-old he stole from the abusive female. To Ryder’s annoyance, his brother is sheltering a wounded bear. A female. Even worse, she’s beautiful and gentle and loving—damned if he’s going to fall for that act again. But when the dark of the moon arrives and death reigns supreme, he’ll discover that not all females are alike.

  In a world filled with hellhounds and pixies, can three lonely shifters and one silent cub create a new family together?

  Whether you are interested in erotic BDSM, sci-fi or paranormal, Cherise Sinclair is always my top pick and number one suggestion.

  ~ You Gotta Read Reviews

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  Eventide of the Bear

  The Wild Hunt Legacy 3

  Cherise Sinclair

  VanScoy Publishing Group

  Copyright © 2016 Cherise Sinclair

  EVENTIDE OF THE BEAR

  Copyright © January 2016 by Cherise Sinclair

  Nook Edition

  ISBN: 978-0-9861195-7-6

  Published by VanScoy Publishing Group

  Cover Artist: Hot Damn Designs

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, business establishments, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this eBook only. No part of this eBook may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without prior written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Warning: This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. This book is for sale to adults only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase.

  Disclaimer: Please do not try any new sexual practice, without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither the publisher nor the author will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury, or death resulting from use of the information contained in this book.

  Acknowledgments

  With grateful thanks to my wonderful critique partners, Monette Michaels, Fiona Archer, and Bianca Sommerland.

  A huge thank you to Marian Shulman who took the time to beta read the rough version and weeded out numerous inconsistencies. *mwah!*

  A big shout-out to Ekatarina Sayanova and her team at Red Quill Editing who tucked me into their tight schedule and did a marvelous job.

  To my News & Discussion crew on Facebook (AKA the Shadowkittens), I’m sending big squishy hugs. The “inspiring” pictures and suggestions along with your enthusiasm and generosity have kept me returning to the keyboard day after day.

  Prologue

  ‡

  Three years before

  Pine Knoll, Mt. Hood Territory – full moon

  WHAT IF NO one wants to mate with me? Arms wrapped around herself, Emma Cavanaugh stood on the sidewalk and watched shifters stream into the three-story house for the full moon Gathering. She’d be joining them since she was an adult now and ready for her first Gathering.

  Finally. Most females went into their first heat before twenty-two, and she’d worried something was wrong with her, although bear shifters tended to be delayed. No matter. She was here now. Her need had driven her right to the door of the Gathering.

  C’mon, bear. Time to move.

  Feeling as if she walked on brittle ice, she made it almost to the door. Then a group of shifters passed her.

  Males.

  Their heady scent raised tingles across her skin. She froze. The masculine voices vibrated all the way to her core. How amazing was that? Would any of those males want her?

  Worry flattened her bubbly excitement. What if they didn’t? What if she stood against the wall all night, alone and unwanted like at the dance she’d sneaked out to attend when she was thirteen?

  As she tried to get her feet to move, blonde CeeCee and her giggly friend, Marnie, shoved her to one side.

  “Way to block the trail, big griz,” Marnie said, deliberately loud.

  “It’s because her hips take up the entire sidewalk,” CeeCee said. “Lovely clothes, Emma, just like my grandmum would wear.”

  Like swipes from sharp claws, their words hurt.

  As her mother had taught, Emma bit back what she wanted to say. Sure, she was a bear shifter, larger than wolf and panther females, but she wasn’t that big, and she certainly wasn’t a grizzly.

  As they walked away, she made a mental note to throw away the flowery skirt and loose blouse. She tried to shrug off the feeling of being of being hated. After the years at the Pine Knoll School, she should be accustomed to insults from her age mates. No one had wanted to be friends with Emma, even if her mother had permitted it.

  Priscilla Cavanaugh had been self-centered, obsessed with power and status, and possessed no love for anyone, even her daughter. Every Daonain in the territory had hated Priscilla and had extended their dislike to her daughter, Emma. Her mother had died two months ago, but the animosity toward the Cavanaugh name seemed unending.

  Maybe someone more vivacious and charming could have changed their minds. Emma’d hoped becoming a bard would lend her some confidence or persuasiveness. Even a bit of courage wouldn’t have gone unappreciated. But no. Apparently, the talent to sing and entertain an audience didn’t translate into day-to-day eloquence. Even worse, no one in town wanted to hear her sing. Emma’s shoulders drooped. Maybe this evening would be different. Because, after mating, people regarded each other differently. Didn’t they? Would a male still be mean after he’d…been…with her? It was time to shake out her fur and venture out of her cave. Maybe tonight she could make some friends.

  I can do this.

  Hope rising in her heart, she walked up the steps and inside. As with many shifter homes, the decor was traditional—dark hardwood floors and cream-colored walls with mahogany trim and crown molding. The downstairs rooms had been opened up, so the living room flowed into a sitting room on the left, the dining area a
nd kitchen on the right. Since shifters mated in human form, territories maintained comfortable housing for the full moon Gatherings.

  Everywhere she looked, females held court. CeeCee sat on a leather couch with five males striving to impress her. Marnie stood near the riverstone fireplace with her own cluster of males.

  That the Daonain birthed more males than females had been merely an interesting fact until now. Enveloped by the overwhelming masculine scents and sounds, her body flared to life and into heat. She was panting as if she’d galloped up a mountain. And oh, Goddess, the need.

  She took a step forward and stopped.

  Near the door stood the Cosantir, the guardian and leader of the Mt. Hood Territory. As always, when Cedrick saw her, his eyes chilled. Because of her mother. As one of the God’s avatars, he acted for the good of the clan. Her mother had acted only for the good of herself, so they’d hated each other. Emma gave him a wide berth and moved farther into the room.

  A brown-haired male, lust reddening his normally pale face, stepped into her path. He raised his eyebrows. “Hey, it’s Emma. Come to slum with the rest of the town?”

  Despite his offensive tone, Emma still felt a tingle down her spine.

  Another male moved closer. His broad shoulders blocked out the light behind him. “It’s Emma, isn’t it? You look very pretty tonight.” This voice was wonderfully deep and resonant, and the interest in it sent arousal streaming through her.

  As the song of need humming in her ears grew louder, she managed to focus her eyes. Gawain.

  The male was quite a bit older. He’d made a knife for the bard master. His wonderful eyes were the clear blue of a summer sky—and he wanted her.

  She shivered with the wonder of it.

  *

  EMMA HAD NO idea how much time had passed, but the night was well advanced. Standing at the drink table, she tried to gather her senses.

  She’d been with several males and had enjoyed mating, if enjoyed could be the word for something so primal and out of control. Some of the males had been rough, and she hadn’t known how to slow them down—or how to slow herself, for that matter.

  She smiled. Thank the Mother Gawain had been patient. Gentle. He’d led her to the room, removed her clothes, and stroked each inch of exposed skin until her entire body shimmered with desire. Kissing, nibbling, licking.

  Even now, her body started to warm again at the memory. Then he’d firmly—gently—laid her on the cushion-covered floor and put his mouth—his mouth—between her legs. By the Mother’s Grace. Everything in her had spun out of control. By the time he’d settled himself over her, she needed him so desperately that when he’d thrust through her maidenhead, the sharp pain disappeared under the marvelous sensation of being filled.

  Afterward, Gawain had held her as she shook. The room had held the scent of sex, of musky males, of her need—and her blood.

  Blood. She’d bled.

  As she’d started to panic, he’d quickly explained, although he’d been surprised her mother hadn’t taught her about such a basic fact of life.

  Priscilla Cavanaugh hadn’t been much of a mother. Emma had grieved when her mother passed on to the Goddess, but her sense of loss had been even greater. All the chances to change their relationship had disappeared. She would never know a mother’s love or care.

  Even as she pulled in a shuddering breath, she felt her body starting to arouse again. A full moon heat didn’t care about mourning or lost chances. Tonight, the physical ruled the mental, and her body was all about trying to mate, to become pregnant.

  Why had no one ever told her about how overwhelming a Gathering could be? She gave a huff of a laugh. Who would have talked with her? The same mother who hadn’t explained what a first mating would entail? Hardly.

  Her bard instructor hadn’t discussed Gatherings other than as a basis for songs. He was very old; maybe he’d forgotten the effect of a full moon on a shifter.

  Sipping apple cider, she directed her mind to happier thoughts. After all, she now knew all about Gatherings, right? And she hadn’t been ignored, as she’d feared. A lot of the males had been interested in her. One werewolf had even complimented her on her size and wasn’t making fun of her or anything. She bit her lip. Of course, his appreciation might not extend past Gathering night when hormones ruled.

  But, oh, it was exhilarating to be touched and treated like everyone else.

  “Hey, Emma, you’re looking fine tonight.” The male’s tenor had a pretty resonance.

  She turned.

  Oh my Goddess, it was Gary. Two years older than Emma, the Cosantir’s son had been the most popular boy in high school. He wore the finest clothes, had the best car, and was now an officer in his father’s bank. He’d never looked at her, not even when he’d once tripped over her feet in school.

  The air disappeared from her lungs as need flared inside her like a newly kindled fire. “Um…hi, Gary.”

  “I hadn’t realized how pretty you’ve become.” When he stroked her loose, wavy hair, the contrast between his tanned fingers and the golden strands was striking. “I think we should find a room.”

  He wanted to mate…with her? Oh my Goddess. “I-I…sure.”

  Gripping her hand, he tugged her after him.

  “Hey, you’re too little for her.” A male rudely stepped in front of them. “She needs someone her size. Another bear.”

  Andre. Tall and tough and dark. He was Gary’s age and had been the “bad boy” in her school. He’d never noticed her before, either.

  “Get lost, asshole.” Gary scowled. “Lucky for you Gatherings are free, or you wouldn’t have been able to get in. Loser.”

  Emma shivered at the animosity in his voice.

  “Hey, pretty bear.”

  At Andre’s gruff words, every cell in her body sat up and preened. He was so big and beautiful, and totally bedazzled her eyes. She swallowed, unable to speak.

  “Back off, fleabag. You got away with poaching once; don’t fucking try it again.” As Gary pulled her closer, his tone turned as scornful as her mother’s when she felt someone was beneath her notice. “This one’s mine. And a Cavanaugh wouldn’t want someone who collects garbage for a living. No female would.”

  “You got a short memory, wimp. Phoebe preferred me to daddy’s boy, didn’t she?” Andre smiled slowly and rubbed his chest. “Quite the vixen. Clawed the shit out of me when she got off.”

  “She’d agreed to go with me, garbage-guts,” Gary snarled. “You’re a fucking thief.” He stepped around Andre, dragging Emma after him.

  Her body protested—it wanted Andre. Nevertheless, Gary was right; she’d started with him first. Her mother would have insisted she be polite.

  The stuffiness of the crowded main room gave way to the cooler, quieter back area, which held several tiny mating rooms on the main floor with more on the second and third levels.

  Gary walked past the stairs, down the hallway past several rooms, and stopped to open a door. “Here’s an empty one.”

  The scent of previous matings spilled out of the room, setting Emma’s hormones rioting in her veins. Dizzy, she leaned against the wall.

  “Oh, female, we’re gonna have fun.” Gary ran a hand up and down her arm to set off a new release of lust.

  Her core throbbed, demanding to be satisfied, and Emma leaned against him, making him laugh.

  “Flabby feline, you think you can handle mating a bear?” Andre’s voice came from behind them. “You sure your dick is big enough?”

  His rough baritone seeped into Emma’s bones and made her tremble.

  As Andre loomed over her, his heady, dark scent swept over her. Despite being only in his twenties, he had the size of a mature male. His chest stretched his tight body shirt to display hard, contoured muscles. At the surging want, her muscles and tendons felt unconnected, as if her body belonged to someone else.

  Realizing she’d leaned toward him, she pulled back.

  When Gary glared at her, Andre laughed.r />
  “Get the fuck out of here, Andre,” Gary snapped. “Go find a dumpster to raid or something.”

  “Quit with the yowling. Go count your daddy’s money and leave mating for the real males.”

  Emma blinked as their hatred cut through the fog of desire. “Guys. Please, don’t—”

  “This one’s mine.” Gary’s grip on her arm turned painful. “She agreed to come with me.”

  Ignoring him, Andre fixed his intense gaze on Emma. “Hey, pretty bear. Wanna mate?” He touched her cheek with a big hand. His virile, musky scent surrounded her.

  Push him away. Now. She ordered her body to obey. Gary was getting more and more upset. Yet somehow, her fingers curled around Andre’s hand. He leaned down. As his lips met hers, she sank into lust like a stone thrown into a warm ocean.

  “You mangy dick.” Gary’s bellow split the air. “She’s mine!” He yanked her away from Andre and shoved her toward the mating room.

  Her head slammed into the doorframe with an excruciating thud, and the hallway went black.

  Why am I on the floor?

  She was sprawled on her side. Carpet scraped her cheek. Her vision blurred, focused, blurred. Her head felt as if it would crack open with each pulse beat—if she didn’t throw up first. Groaning, she struggled to her knees. Was the floor swaying?

  Sounds surfaced through the hum of pain. The smack of flesh on flesh. A grunt. Another slapping sound. Snarls, growls, and cursing. With dawning terror, she realized Andre and Gary were fighting.

  No, oh no. Emma tried to stand, failed, tried again, and finally succeeded with the help of the wall. Shaking her head to try to clear it, she stared. And cringed. This—this was horrible. “No.” Her voice cracked. Not even heard. “Don’t. No.”

  They were enraged. Crazy. Grappling and biting. Growling, Gary punched Andre’s face. With a furious roar, Andre seized Gary by the throat. Choking him.

  “Stop!” She sprang forward, grabbed Andre’s arm, and yanked his hand away.