Page 16 of Bred By the Beast

She frowned. In all her life, she’d never known an instance where someone keeping bees hadn’t been stung. No matter how good they were.

“I was really sorry to hear about your parents.” She didn’t want to keep asking questions about the bees, just in case she asked something stupid. She didn’t know anything about keeping bees, and although she liked the taste of honey from time to time, she didn’t like it enough to keep bees. It was a lot of work.

“It was a long time ago,” he said.

“And poachers killed your parents? Like the men that were chasing after us?” she asked. She hated talking about something painful for him, but she needed answers.

Wilder nodded, and she held out the tea she made for him, and he took it from her. His fingers glided across hers, and she couldn’t help but take a deep breath as all of her nerve endings seemed to stand right on edge.

She looked at him and saw his beautiful dark eyes. She was not sure if they were quite black or a deep brown. One look and she felt like she was falling. It was strange as in the back of her mind, she pictured a dark black bear with lighter streaks of brown. She had no idea why she thought about that, just that it came to her almost like a vision.

“Don’t you think that’s a little odd?” she asked. “That poachers would kill your parents? Were your parents poachers?”

She was pretty sure a growl emitted from his lips, and she found herself jumping back. The hairs on the back of her arms stood on end.

“They killed my parents. It’s why I go out and force them to move on. I protect bears. My parents were not poachers. They did all they could to protect bears from those monsters.”

He took a step toward her, then another, and Poppy looked into his eyes, and for a split-second, she felt afraid, but then that fear disappeared. This man was not going to hurt her. Wilder had proven he would never hurt her.

“I’m so sorry,” Poppy said. “I don’t know what is ... it must be fear or something. I don’t know what those poachers are capable of, and you mentioned that some of the police are in on it, and I don’t know who I can trust.”

“And you thought I was part of it?”

“I don’t know. It made no sense your parents being attacked by poachers, and I’m so sorry because I know how that sounds.” She winced. “Ignore me. It’s been a long couple of days.” It had been a lot longer than that. She hadn’t truly rested in years. Life, for the longest time, had sucked. Now, the stress was starting to get to her, and she might have insulted Wilder. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated.

“Don’t worry about it. The cub is safe now and so are you. Here, you’ll see that all your troubles melt away.” He leaned in close and Poppy thought he smelled her but she couldn’t exactly be sure.

Her feelings for this man were so confusing, but there was that twist of her gut that told her something wasn’t quite right. What was it? Why did she feel nervous? Like Wilder was hiding something from her?

****

Wilder listened to Poppy sleep.

He’d hoped to come home to Poppy being a little more relaxed, but the moment he opened the front door he sensed a change within her. It was hard to hide his real bear from her. The bees, the cub, his senses—all of them were incredibly difficult to hide. Especially from Poppy, who was now living with him.

After Poppy went to bed, he sensed she was still nervous around him. At least her body felt different. He took a quick check of the perimeter, then sat on his back porch listening to the night. Wilder could hear the rabbits, the birds, a few deer running around in the distance. He saw clearly as well.

There was no threat to his home, but he always found peace at nighttime. This was where true solitude existed, and peace of mind came. No one was out there, threatening to take it all away. He knew this sense was always fleeting. The real truth was someone, somewhere was always planning to make life hell, to take, to steal, to ruin. That was what humans did. The illusion was safety. It took him a long time to accept that, and now that he had, he didn’t look back. He relished moments like this, brief, teasing flashes of safety. They were always short-lived.

At the sound of a gasp, he turned to see Poppy. She was in a pair of flannel pajamas. He’d gotten them years ago from a store. They were fucking ugly things, a garish blue and yellow, but on Poppy they looked cute. He would have much preferred her in nothing.

“I thought I heard you up,” she said.

Wilder glanced toward her. Poppy’s body may be sending her warning signs that he was a predator, but did it also tell her she wanted him?

He sensed her attraction, and it made her nervous. He loved when she flicked her hair, or tucked it behind her ear. Little telltale signs that spoke volumes, even better than words ever could.

“You’re up late,” she said.

“I’m just keeping an eye.”

“Do you ever need a lot of sleep?” she asked, with a giggle.

“Sometimes.”

He did love his sleep, but that was usually through the winter. He liked to snuggle down, and he couldn’t help but look toward Poppy. She was standing with her arms folded which distorted the shirt she wore. However, he was able to get a clear look at her body underneath. More than a generous handful. If she decided to stay with him through the winter, he would have a lot of fun with her.

“What woke you?” he asked.