A jolt of excitement went through him, removing all the tiredness of packing and moving. “Hell yeah.”

  “Me too,” she said. “Come on, I’ll show you my apartment isn’t so bad. There’s a really awesome…bed.”

  He laughed, scooping her up in his arms. “I guess we should go try it then.”

  “Oh, carrying me over the threshold?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He loved the feel of her weight in his arms.

  “A little late for that, but yes. We can pretend that’s what I’m doing.” He gave her a rakish grin. “The result will be the same.”

  “Ooh, goody.”

  He walked into the window and set her on the bed, leaning over with a hand on either side of her for a long, deep kiss.

  She sighed against his mouth and he realized he’d forgotten something.

  “Wait here for a second,” he said. “I almost forgot. I brought something for you.”

  She sat up in curiosity, putting her legs over the side of the bed and cocking her head. “Okay, I’m waiting.” She gave him a shy smile. “But hurry. I want to get back to what we were just doing.”

  He nodded, nerves rushing through him as he walked back into the living room and grabbed a small case, opening it to reveal a small, velvet box.

  He hid it behind his back as he walked back into the bedroom. “I got you something.”

  “Oh?” she asked, her dark eyes wide and sparkling, as if she had no idea what was coming.

  Then again, Ryland was good at catching people off-guard.

  He walked quickly forward and got on a knee in front of her, bringing the ring out from behind his back and opening the box.

  A huge, sparkling diamond mounted in a simple solitaire glittered up at her.

  Her full lips parted in shock and for a moment she just stared. Then she closed her mouth, reached for it, stopped, reached for it again. He took it from the box, grabbed her hand, and put it on her.

  A perfect fit on her left ring finger. “I know you said as shifters you didn’t want a ceremony. That the important thing had happened between us already. But I found I wanted you to have something like this. Something that shows you’re mine to everyone. Something that hopefully makes you feel valued.”

  She hung her hand, as if to joke that it was weighing her down. “But did it have to be so big?”

  He grinned. “Probably not, but you don’t have to wear it when you don’t want to. For me, it’s the stone that reminded me of you. Rare and bold and sparkly, unafraid to be who it is. Unafraid to fully shine.”

  She grinned and threw her arms around him for a long hug. “Oh, thank you, Ryland.” She nuzzled into his neck as his arms wrapped around her. “I don’t think I could love you more.”

  “I hope not,” he said. “Because I already love you more than I ever thought possible.”

  She was clinging to him so tightly he wasn’t sure if something was wrong, so he gently pulled her back to look into her eyes.

  “Are you happy?” he asked softly.

  “Of course,” she said, glowing up at him. “But I’m going to set this aside for a minute.” She took the ring off carefully, placed it in its box and set it on the bedside table. “Because there’s something that would make me even happier.”

  Seriously, a mate that wanted him this much? How did he get so lucky?

  She grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him on to the bed with her and he grinned against her lips as she placed kisses on his neck and shoulders.

  He began to undress her and felt the bear in him come alive, fully one with him now.

  Now that he was no longer broken apart, he was so much more able to protect her, care for her, which was appropriate since she was the one who had helped him fully accept himself and his bear.

  His love for her was bottomless, endless, and as far reaching as the sky above Bear Canyon.

  Francis stared out at the rain from the beautiful floor to ceiling windows at the front of the mountain cabin where he’d lived for the past year.

  It was really coming down, and Francis felt bad for anyone on the roads in weather like this.

  He turned on a lamp and sat in his recliner, pulling a book into his lap that he nevertheless didn’t open.

  He just had an uneasy feeling, like something odd was about to happen.

  He couldn’t really figure out why he had feelings like that at times, he just knew he had strong intuition. That’s what had led him here, to Bear Canyon, first for the Brawl and then to his job as Mayor.

  With the town expanding, that job would actually have meaning in a few years.

  Amazing to think how different it was from his life a few years back, before he’d begun training for the Brawl. The prize money, safely invested, meant he could pretty much do whatever he wanted for the rest of his life. His living expenses were basically nil, because the cabin had been given to him with one contingency: that the Brolins, the brothers who’d grown up in it, could use it to gather whenever they came back to the canyon.

  Now that the Brawl was cancelled permanently, Francis wasn’t sure how often that would be.

  He looked out the window again, seeing a faint pair of headlights in the distance, heading down the windy road through town.

  He narrowed his eyes, a sinking feeling coming over him as the car took the turn at the bottom of the steep drive that led to his cabin.

  Who could be coming here, and why?

  He set the book aside and turned off the lamp, so he could pretend not to be home if needed. Or at least pretend to be asleep.

  He didn’t mind phone calls for help from the townsfolk, but he wasn’t in the mood to entertain some entitled tourist who wanted to rent or offer to buy his cabin.

  He walked to the side of the window, standing hidden behind the drapes by the front door, peeking out.

  The car was a newish hatchback he’d never seen. Definitely not in town.

  A tourist then, he thought with a sigh.

  If it was someone who simply needed help, they could have stopped down in the town, where there were services that were twenty-four-seven for tourists whose autos broke down.

  He squinted at the person who got out of the car, but in the utter darkness, all he could make out was a shortish sort of figure who was bundled up in a thick coat, scarf and hat. Though some hair had escaped and was blowing in the harsh wind.

  As the character walked up the front steps, they were battered by the hard, nearly horizontal rain that was slicing through the air.

  He let out a sigh as a firm knock sounded.

  What should he do? He didn’t want to leave anyone out in the cold like that, but he couldn’t very well open the door this late. What if it was a robber?

  Not that there was anyone, shifter or human, who Francis felt could take him. But he didn’t want to have to beat anyone up either.

  He waited. Maybe they would just go away, but as thunder struck and lightning lit up the area around him, Francis realized the intruder on his privacy wasn’t going away anytime soon.

  Since it wasn’t safe for anyone to be out there, Francis was just going to have to open the door for them.

  He sighed in frustration and moved behind the door, peeking through the peephole, but the person was bundled so tight that only a nose showed through.

  He swung open the door, bracing against the cold and wet, and gestured for the person to hurry in.

  When they did, he shut the door with his back to it, breathing heavily. Damn, it was cold out there.

  The tourist took a few steps inside and then began slowly unwinding their scarf.

  “Look,” he said, trying not to sound as impatient as he felt. “This isn’t a tourist stop, and I’m not renting the cabin, and it’s not mine to sell, so you might as well—”

  He stopped when the figure turned around, hat in her hands, scarf dangling at her side, familiar face somewhat reddened by the cold and rain.

  The woman he’d run to get away from, until he was here in a tiny mountain town. The woman he’d fallen in love with when he’d known there was no hope of her being his.

  The woman who could never know anything of what he felt for her, and so he had to run as far away from her as possible.

  “Valerie,” he said, taking a step forward, blinking as if he couldn’t believe she was there. He fumbled for the dimmer switch, giving them just a bit of low light.

  Her brown curls, olive skin, green eyes were all as strikingly beautiful as she remembered. Still curvy, maybe even a little curvier.

  But there were hollows under her eyes, he could make them out even in the dim glow from the overhead lights. Her face held a kind of strain he hadn’t seen there before.

  She held her hat and scarf in both hands as she took a step forward. “Hello, Francis.”

  “Valerie,” he said, feeling like his heart had tied itself to cement and jumped overboard. “What are you doing here?”

  She took another step forward, into better light. Those weren’t hollows under her eyes. One of her eyes was blackened with purple bruises.

  “I need your help.”

  Thank you for reading Lea and Ryland’s story! If you enjoyed this book, I’d so appreciate you leaving a review to help other readers find it!

  I hope you liked the little sneak peak of Francis. His book will be coming out soon due to high reader demand, so make sure you are on my newsletter so you know when it releases: http://eepurl.com/bgG7Kf

  Also, if you missed either of the other books in the series, you can get them here. There is a sample for the first book on the next page:

  Sheltered by the Bear

  Craved by the Bear

  Thanks so much for reading. You readers mean everything!

  Sincerely,

  Terry

  Sample of Sheltered by the Bear

  Riker took the last swig of whiskey and set the glass down on the old table where he tallied the last few entry fees he’d received for this year’s Bear Canyon Brawl. Stacks of bills were lined up before him, roughly piled in fives, tens, twenties.

  He noted the last wad of money in his ledger and closed the book, sending a faint wisp of dust flurrying into the air as the pages slapped together.

  Maybe he’d actually have time to clean his shop once his brothers got here to take care of Brawl business.

  Just as he thought it, the door to his empty shop opened, a battered bell ringing weakly.

  But by the scent that had come into the room when the door first opened, he already knew who it was.

  “Hey, Rock,” Riker said, turning back to the bills, placing them in a metal lockbox before snapping the lid shut with a clang.

  “Riker,” his middle brother said nonchalantly, looking around him. Everything was the same as ever. His brother, on the other hand… Ever since he’d gone to L.A. to make it as a stuntman, he’d started looking too flashy for a town like Bear Canyon, and he appeared especially out of place in Riker’s dingy workshop.

  His brown hair, unlike Riker’s sandy-blond spikes, was so dark it was almost black, glossy even in the crappy light. Also longer than it was a year ago, coming down past his jaw and almost to his neck.

  A badass appearance that was a little too styled, right down to the too-tight, hand-distressed leather jacket that adorned his tall, muscular frame.

  But underneath the Hollywood good looks was an absolute monster. Riker knew it, and the other shifters did, too, which made Rock an excellent enforcer once the Brawl started.

  “Looking good, bro,” Riker said only half sarcastically, pulling on his own worn leather jacket to combat the chilly breeze Rock brought in.

  “Thanks,” Rock replied with his trademark smirk, one corner of his mouth upturned slightly more than the other, creating a dimple. “Same to you.”

  “It’s low maintenance,” Riker said, picking up the lockbox and the book. “Whereas that…” he added, motioning to the designer crap his brother was wearing over his overly toned, overly tanned body. “That the in thing in Hollywood right now?”

  “A bear’s gotta make a living out there.” Rock smiled, unbothered by his brother’s grumpiness, as usual.

  “You’ll make plenty this week.” Though to be fair, none of the brothers did this for the money. Or needed it.

  The Bear Canyon Brawl was their heritage. A long-standing tradition for generations, heralding back to when the Brawl was just a bunch of bear shifters getting together to let off steam and challenge for dominance in the area.

  Now it was a huge regional event, drawing bear shifters from all over. And it fell on just Riker and his brothers to make sure everything ran smoothly.

  So one week a year, their mountain was totally invaded by bear shifters, and the rest of the year, it was Riker’s job to keep the small town of Bear Canyon going so there’d be a place for the Brawl to come back to again.

  “Where the hell is Ryland by the way?” Riker asked.

  “You know him. On time for everything but this.” Rock shrugged.

  “Yeah, well, we don’t pay like his big corporate job,” Riker muttered.

  The shop door swung open, and Ryland strode in. “It’s not all about money.” He looked even more out of place than Rock, with his sharp, custom-tailored gray suit and short, rich-brown hair swept to the side, revealing unique grey streaks next to a very young face. “But yes, compared to what I make the rest of the year, this is practically charity work.”

  “Ah, a gracious donation from the fancy venture capitalist,” Rock muttered. “So nice of you to descend from your throne to associate with us peons.”

  “Shut up, both of you,” Riker said.

  Rock strode over and circled Ryland, eyeing his outfit with amusement. “What is this?” he asked, poking at the suit like it was an insult to bear kind, which it was.

  Ryland shoved Rock away, and Rock put up his hands, grinning.

  “Lose the suit,” Riker said. “You want anyone to take you seriously?”

  “Of course I do,” Ryland snapped. “I didn’t have time to change since my flight was late. But don’t worry. I’ll be all grunged up and ready to meet the fresh meat tomorrow.”

  Ryland plopped down a large, dark duffel and gave his brothers quick, brusque hugs, and then they all sat down at the table to discuss the business that had brought them together.

  “Here’s the accounting I’ve done so far,” Riker said, handing everything over to Ryland. “I’m sure you can fix anything I’ve messed up.”

  Ryland nodded. He was a genius with numbers and even did the books for Riker’s small custom business. The brothers liked to tease him about how far his brain had gotten him, but he’d helped them both with investments over the years. And given how out of control Ryland’s bear was, it was better for him to stay more in touch with his human side anyway.

  “As for you, here’s the roster,” Riker said, pulling a thin notebook out of the inner pocket of his jacket and handing it to Rock. “A lot of familiar faces in there. Get in there; get friendly. Be Mr. Popular, as usual. The less asses we have to beat the better.”

  Rock nodded as he looked over the names. He was good at making friends with people, setting them at ease. And as he got to know the contestants, he’d be the best one to make a call on whether they needed a beating for stepping out of line. And the best one to deliver that beating.

  “I’ve made notes on the ones you’ll want to keep an eye out for,” Riker said. “Just in case you don’t remember. And don’t be afraid to step in as needed. I don’t want them fighting outside the ring.”

  “You got it,” Rock responded, sounding a little overeager at the prospect of someone breaking the rules, thus giving him the chance to pound them into submission.

  “And lastly—” Riker said but was interrupted by the door to the shop slamming open so hard it sounded like it might break off its hinges.

  Immediately, all three brothers stood and turned. The bear inside Riker growled at the approach of unwelcome guests. Just the beginning to another of the worst weeks of his life.

  “Hey, it’s the Brolin brothers!” a man sneered drunkenly as a small group of men sauntered into the shop.

  “The bar’s down the road, boys,” Riker said.

  “You shouldn’t be seeing the judges the day before the event,” Ryland said. “It’s against the rules.”

  “We’re tired of the rules,” the tallest of the group said as he stepped forward. “We came to say you ain’t running everything this year. And we go where we want.” He stepped forward menacingly, and Riker frowned. Every year there were a few guys who just had to start fights before the Brawl even began.

  Rock twitched beside him, muscles flexing, ready to put the drunken grunts in their place.

  Riker put out a hand, motioning for him to wait. “Just go home, boys. It’s not worth it.”

  “Hey, look. The money’s there. We could just take it,” the leader said, eyeing the the lockbox next to Ryland. “Screw the tournament; screw everything, you pompous dicks. You think you’re so much better than us. That you’re above it all just because we fight and you watch. You’re no better than us with your fancy suits and shit!” The man ranted, his words becoming increasingly incoherent as he went on.

  Riker could sense his youngest brother tense at the last remark. And even though Ryland didn’t often resort to violence, Riker knew any fight his brother started, he finished. Hard.

  “Nobody forced you to come,” Ryland said sharply. His eyes were dangerously cold.

  “I got this,” Riker said, backing his brothers down before they painted the walls of his beloved shop red with the blood of the incumbent assholes. As he strode toward the front of the group, he cracked his neck by rolling it to the left, then right, then cracked his knuckles.

  The drunks, either stupefied by alcohol or emboldened by numbers, snickered as Riker approached, and the head of the group stepped forward in challenge.

  The man opened his mouth to say something, but before even a single word got past his lips, Riker hit him with a powerful punch to the jaw, sending him reeling backward.