Target: BillionBear: BBW Bear Shifter Paranormal Romance by Chant Zoe

Author:Chant, Zoe [Chant, Zoe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-12-04T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Jameson leaned against the sink in the little restroom, gazing into his own bloodshot eyes. What was that inside him?

Beast. Something about that word disturbed him—made him feel as if someone had yanked out his heart and replaced it with bullets and broken glass. Don’t let the beast out . . . don’t let the beast out . . . don’t let the beast out . . .

That whisper—desperately urgent—matched with the fire and pain and explosive roar after which everything had shut down: body, mind, spirit.

‘Beast’. It wasn’t quite the right word, and yet it was, because underneath the whisper stirred something primal, non-human. Had he done despicable things before the accident that had landed him broken and nearly brainless in the hospital? The vaguest sense of red-hot anger, of brutal exertion, pulsed down very deep.

As he blinked into the tiny mirror over the ancient, cracked porcelain sink, he grimly faced the thought that maybe he did not want to remember because he had seen things, done things, that . . . yeah, made him a beast.

He did his calming breathing until the throbbing pain subsided, and the engine of his heart downshifted from red-line overdrive. This couldn’t be good, either. One of those bottles of pills had been for his blood pressure, which he’d been told spiked when his head hurt the worst, or when he’d struggled hardest against the restraints binding his memory. He believed that—he could feel it. Being with Kesley had made him feel relaxed, good. Healed.

But that had gone away as soon as Noah started talking about poison.

It was as if something vital inside him clawed to get free, forcing his heart-rate to soar. He exerted every muscle to control himself. Gradually the thick nausea subsided, and he watched his eyes lose the red madness. A final breath, and he loosened his grip on the sink. Maybe he had been a beastly human being, but he would never be one again, that much he could swear to himself, not if he could have Kesley by his side.

Barely two days, and he knew his life was forever changed. In the endless desert of his existence he had found an oasis—no, a tree. She was the water and the word, the strong bark and sheltering leaves, the sustaining roots, the flower and the fruit. Every time he doubted, he had only to meet her wide dark brown gaze—same color as her hair—and there he wanted to be everything that could shelter and sustain her generous nature, her entrancing heat, her wonder and . . . trust.

It all seemed to come back to trust. He’d found a miracle woman, one he could trust, and he would willingly spend his life being the man she could trust.

He let himself out—to find the gray-haired cook waiting, arms crossed.

“Sorry,” he said, aware he’d been in there for an appreciable time.

But when he tried to step past her, she shifted her step to block him, her wide-set Asian eyes narrowed to slits.

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