Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

RICK

T he Northern Lights Festival had been a smashing success, as had Hannah's Hearth. Even though she had planned well and prepared more baked goods than she thought she'd need, it became clear early on that the number wouldn't be enough. Luckily Rick and Melinda had worked to cover the front of the bakery while Hannah went to work in the kitchen to make more. It wasn't the worst problem to have—people got to see her in action and the bakery was filled with the most enticing aromas. Nicole Asher had called to tell Hannah that five of her clients for upcoming events had informed her they wanted Hannah to provide all the baked goods for their affairs.

The festival had been marred by one incident at the end of a very long day. As the fading sun had begun to sink beyond the horizon, the night sky had begun to fill not only with the aurora borealis and fireworks, but with the sound of those wanting to celebrate in their own way.

The air was thick with the salty scent of the sea and the pungent aroma of freshly baked goods, reminders of the celebrations that had seized the entire town, including those who had been forced to work while others enjoyed all that the festival had to offer. Rick walked outside and watched as a group of local fishermen, their laughter echoing through the night, passed around bottles of cheap whiskey and beer. Their long season had finally drawn to a close and grueling months of hard labor had culminated in a group of people not content with contained and planned revelry. They wanted a night of reckless celebration.

As the night deepened, their partying grew louder and more raucous. The real trouble began when the fishermen began pulling out their rifles, firing shots into the air in drunken merriment. Rick shook his head, a sense of unease settling in his gut. He knew these men, had worked alongside them for years, but tonight something felt off. Their response to all the merrymaking around them, combined with the need to let off steam wasn't unexpected, though, and it appeared that the police were not caught unaware and had dispatched people to quell them.

A sudden, sharp crack split the night, different from the echoing boom of the rifles. Rick's heart lurched as he heard a scream. He spun around to see Hannah, who had stepped outside to join him, clutching her arm, her face pale and eyes wide with shock.

"What happened?" Rick shouted, rushing to her side.

"Something hit me," Hannah gasped, pointing to the wooden wall of the bakery.

Neither the fishermen, nor the police, seemed to take notice. The fishermen were laughing and staggering as they continued their rowdy celebration, and the cops were far more intent on getting a handle on the situation. Rick's concern grew as he examined the wall. Embedded in the wood, right where Hannah had pointed, was a small, glinting piece of metal. Rick pried it out carefully and examined it under the dim light of the streetlights. He knew he probably should have left it, but the police didn't seem all that interested.

It was a bullet, but not one that came from a rifle. Rick's experience with firearms was extensive, and he knew immediately that this was from a handgun. He glanced back at the fishermen, none of whom were carrying anything but rifles.

Rick got Hannah inside and tended to the graze wound before calling the precinct. The police arrived within short order, took Hannah's statement, and listened to Rick's concerns, but their attitude was dismissive. They seemed convinced that it was nothing more than some random fisherman having had too much to drink and firing a stray shot that went awry in their drunken state.

"It's just those guys having too much to drink," one of the officers said, waving a hand dismissively. "Nothing to worry about."

Rick's jaw tightened. "Hannah was shot. One of the citizens of Kodiak, you know the people you're sworn to protect, has been hurt. This bullet," he said holding it up, "isn't from a rifle. It's from a handgun. None of those guys had a handgun."

The officer sighed, clearly not taking Rick seriously. "Look, we'll file a report, but it's probably just a ricochet or something. You couldn't possibly see everybody who was partying too hard or what kind of weapon they had. I'm sorry Hannah was hurt, but let's not make a big deal out of it."

Rick knew better than to argue further. He pocketed the bullet, resolving to keep it safe. As the officers wrapped up their half-hearted investigation and the fishermen continued their debauchery, Rick's mind raced. Someone out there had fired a handgun, and they had almost hit Hannah. That made, by his estimation, three attempts on Hannah's life. He thought about mentioning it to the cops, but so far, they'd been more dismissive than helpful.

On the second day of the festival, snow threatened, its ominous presence looming overhead all day. Many who had lived on Kodiak Island for years kept a sharp eye on the skies above.

The snowstorm that had been hanging overhead with a menacing air all day struck Kodiak with a vengeance, the wind howling and snowflakes swirling in an almost blinding flurry. While the snow itself hadn't been a surprise, it had waited until after dark to unleash its full fury. Rick stood at the bakery window, watching as the white blanket thickened over the streets, the world outside disappearing under a veil of snow. Plans for the evening were rapidly derailing for everyone, himself included. Power outages began to ripple through the town, plunging entire neighborhoods into darkness, while the roads quickly became treacherous.

His thoughts immediately went to Hannah and Melinda's safety. Both of them had worked long and hard over the past two days to keep up with the demand the festival had placed on Hannah's Hearth. Rick's cell phone buzzed with messages from friends and neighbors, everyone scrambling to find safe refuge for the night.

Festival officials had begun trying to round up people to help and Rick knew he was needed to assist in ferrying people to safety. Despite the nagging worry about Hannah, he knew she was relatively secure inside the bakery with Melinda. He couldn't ignore the tourists and locals stranded and freezing in the streets.

Hannah came to stand beside him, gazing out the window at the falling snow. "It's going to be bad, isn't it?"

Rick nodded. "Thankfully the festival is drawing to a close, but a lot of the tourists and even the locals have been caught flatfooted. I don't think the regular public and private transportation services are going to be able to keep up with the demand."

"You need to help, don't you?" she said with a knowing smile.

"I don't want to leave you and Melinda, especially after last night."

"You heard the cops; it was just an accident—some drunk with a gun. Melinda and I will be fine; won't we, Melinda?" She called the last over her shoulder.

"Absolutely."

"We'll lock the door and be snug as a couple of bugs in a rug."

"If you're sure," he said doubtfully, swallowing his anxiety.

"I'm sure. By the time we're done, you'll be back, so perfect timing."

"Okay, but only if you promise to keep the doors locked and stay inside until I get back."

"Promise," she said, pushing him towards the door.

Rick bundled up and headed out into the storm.

The night became a blur of activity. Rick, along with several other good Samaritans, trudged through the fast-falling snow which was rapidly accumulating, guiding disoriented tourists to their hotels and helping neighbors find shelter. The cold bit at his face, but the adrenaline kept him moving. He couldn't shake the thought of Hannah, but he had to focus on the immediate task at hand.

Finally, after hours of tireless work, Rick made his way back to the bakery. The sight of the warmly lit interior through the frosted windows was a welcome relief. Hannah opened the door as he stomped the snow off of his boots.

He entered the bakery. "Okay, ladies, your turn."

Melinda appeared from the back. Both women looked tired but relieved to see him. Hannah rose up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. His inner bear chuffed with happiness.

"It's getting worse out there, isn't it?" Melinda asked.

"It is. I need to get you both home," Rick replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

They bundled Melinda up first, the streets eerily quiet under the heavy snowfall. Rick drove carefully, the truck's tires struggling for grip on the slippery roads. They dropped Melinda off at her apartment, ensuring she was safely inside before heading back to his truck.

As soon as they were alone, Hannah turned to Rick. "You don't need to worry about me. The apartment over Nicole's will be safe. It's not far, and I can easily walk. You should head home. You have a much longer drive."

Rick shook his head. "The streets down by the harbor are treacherous and getting worse, and power has yet to be restored. You're not staying down there alone in this storm. You're coming home with me."

Her eyes flashed with stubborn defiance. "I can take care of myself, Rick. The apartment over the bakery is almost finished. I need to be close by in case my building loses power."

"I'm not arguing about this," Rick. "Get in the truck, and we'll go home."

"No."

Inside, his bear growled. His mate needed to learn to follow his lead, especially in circumstances where he knew best. Without another word, he hoisted her over his shoulder, ignoring her protests, and began to make his way back to the truck. He acknowledged to himself that carrying Hannah slung over his shoulder over the icy terrain might not be the best idea, but he rather liked having her up there as if she was some prize he'd won in an ancient rite of conquest.

His bear rather liked the idea and quickly reminded him of what usually happened after a prize had been won. His bear needed to shut the fuck up. All his protective instincts as well as his own growing feelings for Hannah had begun to combine in a need to keep her safe. He couldn't think of a safer place for her than in his bed.

"Rick! Put me down!" Hannah snarled, her fists pounding against his back.

"Not a chance," he growled, swatting her backside and trudging through the snow to the Jeep. He set her down just long enough to open the door and push her inside, then climbed in after her.

The drive to his cabin outside the city limits was tense and silent. Hannah glared at him, but Rick kept his eyes on the treacherous road. The snow continued to fall, the world outside the Jeep's windows a swirling chaos of white.

Finally, they reached the cabin. Rick helped Hannah out, their argument momentarily paused by the necessity of braving the storm to reach the front door. Once inside, the warmth of the cabin enveloped them, a stark contrast to the freezing tempest outside.

Hannah crossed her arms, her expression still defiant. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

Rick sighed, running a hand through his snow-dampened hair. "Maybe not. But I wasn't going to leave you out there alone. Not in this."

She turned away, fighting the exhaustion that was threatening to claim her. "I can take care of myself, Rick."

Rick reached out to take hold of her arm. When she jerked away, the more primitive aspects of his nature kicked in. Wrapping his hand around her wrist, he jerked her back to him, his mouth hovering over hers only long enough to say, "I can do it better," before his lips claimed hers in a fiery kiss.

His mouth was on hers, urgent and claiming, tasting and savoring. There was only a moment's hesitation before Hannah moaned and sagged into him. Her mouth tasted of cinnamon, sugar, coffee, and hot cocoa, with a far sweeter and seductive undertone. He trailed kisses down her neck as he removed her heavy parka to reveal her Hannah's Hearth T-shirt. He nipped at the tender skin there before trailing lower, finding the peaks of her nipples through the thin fabric of her shirt.

"I don't think we should do this," she whispered.

"Don't think, just feel," he murmured, his hands slipping under her T-shirt to palm her breasts over her bra.

The lust he had been experiencing from the moment she had first entered the diner was about to explode. His human half had been able to keep his bear's need to claim his mate in check, but it had been growing, too. The growing sexual tension between them combined with the threat from the storm and whoever was trying to take her from him were tipping control over to the bear's inclinations.

She was so warm and vibrant, and he could sense the uptick in her arousal. Barely hanging on to the fa?ade of civility, Rick grabbed the hem of Hannah's T-shirt and pulled it up and over her head. He unhooked her bra, removing it and tossing it to the floor.

"Rick," she moaned—half in protest, half in need.

"Tell me no now, Hannah, and I'll stop." He waited as the antique clock on the mantle ticked away the moments. "Now, Hannah, or I take what's mine."

She said nothing, but there was no fear in either her voice or the silence. Rick was sure that deep inside her was a bear just waiting to be claimed and released into the wild. When she remained mute, Rick began to tear at her clothes, baring her beautiful body with all of its dangerous curves.

Leaning his head down, he groaned as he swirled his tongue around the first nipple, teasing it with his lips and making Hannah buck beneath him, almost as if she was trying to get away. He slid a hand up to her throat, closing around it softly, until she stopped her squirming.

He waited as she arched into him, asking for more and surrendering to him. His fingers danced over the exposed skin of her belly, dipping lower, teasing the edge of her clit before cupping her mound and giving it a squeeze.

"Mine," he growled, the beast within taking control.

"Rick," she gasped, her hand coming down to push at his half-heartedly while her thighs clamped together. He looked up into her eyes, dark with her desire, and put his hand back around her delicate throat.

"Unless you say no right this minute, this is happening. Reject me now or surrender to me. You'll be mine." She said nothing but nodded. It was enough. "Good girl, now, unclamp those pretty thighs and let me fuck you like you want to be fucked."

He waited for the coarse language to make her react negatively, but instead her lips parted as her legs slowly moved apart. Rick stepped closer, moving more firmly between her thighs, his cock throbbing behind the fly of his jeans and nudging her sex. He planned to make her come for him at least once before claiming his prize.

Rick's lips clamped around her other nipple as he plunged two fingers into her tight sheath, groaning as he realized just how tight she really was. His thumb swiped her clit in the same rhythm he was using with his fingers.

Hannah's back bowed, a beautiful arch of surrender as he explored her tight sheath, learning what drew moans from deep within her, what caused her hips to buck against his touch. He kissed his way from one nipple to the next, nipping gently at the sensitive bud, while his free hand worked her sex. His thumb circled her clit, his fingers buried inside her, he committed each gasp and shudder to memory.

"You're mine, Hannah. Say it. Say you understand."

He watched her chest heave, the flush of desire painting her cheeks a pale shade of pink. She was ripe with need, panting softly beneath him, and he knew she was close. But tonight wasn't about sweet releases; it was about possession, about marking her as his in ways that words alone could not.

Finally, she nodded, her eyes locking onto his. Rick growled seductively. He'd be the only man that ever fucked that sweet pussy again for the rest of time. He'd make sure of that.

Spinning her toward the kitchen table, he placed her hands on it. "Hold on to it," he ordered, and she obeyed, curling her fingers over the edge of the polished wood.

Rick positioned himself behind her, admiring the curve of her back, the way her ass was presenting itself to him, waiting for what he had promised. Her body trembled—not in fear or cold, despite the raging snowstorm outside, but in desire. There was no preamble, he realized. He'd changed his mind about bringing her to orgasm first. There would be time enough for that kind of thing later. Right now, all he wanted was to be deep inside her and feel her wet heat spasm all around him as she climaxed for the first time for him.

He realized that the bear within had taken control, spurred on by the wild weather outside. It was as if it had infused itself into him, and Rick realized that this first time wasn't about tenderness—it was about dominance and surrender. Claiming and possessing, and he meant to do both. His bear wasn't about to woo her, he meant to take her and make sure she never left him.

Slamming into her, Rick relished the way her fingers flexed around the edge of the table, the way she set her stance so that she could take all of him as he tore into her. He wanted her to feel every inch, to understand the depth of his longing and need, the beast inside him that she'd awoken.

Rick growled with a satisfaction that caused warmth to spread throughout his entire system. He had been the first since she'd left her husband. He meant to be her last.

His hands were everywhere on her. On her hips, pulling her back onto him as he thrust into her repeatedly. On her glorious breasts as they hung down, squeezing her sensitive nipples until she moaned. One hand reached beneath her, his fingers dancing across her swollen clit, pushing her to the brink, then withdrawing just as her thighs tensed with the promise of climax.

"Rick, please, let me come," she begged, her voice ragged. The sound of his name from her lips was both a plea and a declaration, one that he intended to answer.

"Come for me, Hannah," he growled roughly, harshly circling her clit with one hand as his cock filled her snug pussy.

Rick gave her what she needed, what he needed. Her release was powerful, washing over her in waves that clenched around him so tightly it almost bordered on pain. But it was the kind of pain that just spurred him on, the kind that made every nerve ending sing.

Her pleasure was his victory, her surrender the prize he'd been chasing since she'd first walked into the diner. He rode out every spasm, every aftershock, each one imprinting her onto him—body and soul—until there was no distinction between where she ended and he began.

He drove into her with a final, punishing thrust, his breath ragged and hot against her neck as he held her to him. With everything inside him teetering on the edge, he pressed deep, holding himself there, buried to the hilt inside her trembling body.

A guttural sound tore from his throat as he came, heat surging through him, marking her in the most primal way possible. The thought flickered through his mind that he might have pushed her too far too soon as he flooded her sheath. A civilized part of his psyche recoiled at the ruthlessness of the idea, but a stronger, darker urge whispered satisfaction at the permanence it promised.

Her gasps filled the room, mingling with the sounds of their bodies locked in the most intimate of embraces, and he realized then that he'd crossed a line he couldn't step back from. She was his now, fated and mated.

He vowed he'd never let her go. Not when he'd finally tasted what he'd been starving for. The knowledge settled in him, heavy and undeniable. They were tangled up in each other, past the point of no return, and he wouldn't have it any other way.