A Taste of Honeybear Wine (BBW Bear Shifter Standalone Romance Novel) (Bearfield Book 2) by Jacqueline Sweet, Eva Wilder Read Free Book Online

disappointment etched in his brothers’ faces, and that was enough. His bear cowered in the presence of Marcus. As a man, Marcus was intimidatingly large and strong and severe, but as an alpha he was unstoppable. His word was law. If the man told the mountain itself to move out of his path, the stones would have apologized profusely for accumulating there before rolling themselves away.
    “One of these days, kid, you’re going to learn to take responsibility for your actions. And starting a war with those damn ravens ain’t the way to do it.”
    “But they stole the box. I saw them do it.”
    “Do you know if the shifter you saw was acting on the orders of his queen? Maybe he wasn’t even part of their clan, did you think of that? All you saw was a raven shifter and already you’re itching to go prove yourself. You need to calm down, boy.”
    Michael took a deep breath and rested his head against the seat in front of him. He barely fit in the car at all. What would Pete do if he ever had to arrest Marcus? Could his brother even have fit through the door? The question was moot. No one could arrest Marcus. The FBI themselves would take one look at him and run away. He could feel his brother’s glare on his neck, burning him like the sun. The longer he waited, the worse it would be. Better to just get it over with.
    “Hey, Pete,” Michael said, “how’d you know Alison was my mate? I didn’t tell anyone, not even Matt.”
    “Shawna Killdeer woke me up with a phone call at three in the morning, is how I knew. Her visions are getting stronger, and even worse, they’re coming true.”
    “Two fated mates in such a short time. This ever happen before?”
    “No, son. If we see one mate in a generation, it’s a blessing. Two this close together is either a miracle or a sign something bad is coming.”
    Pete huffed and puffed his way out of the car, walking around to open Michael’s door. Michael hung his head low as he exited the cruiser. He couldn’t look Marcus in the eyes and he also didn’t want to look Alison’s mom in the eyes, for fear of what he’d see there. But he couldn’t resist seeking out his mate’s gaze. Michael glanced up, his eyes locking on Alison’s, and the yearning he saw in them made his bear roar triumphantly. She feels it, he thought. She feels the connection. Maybe this whole thing can still be salvaged.
    “Why isn’t this . . . this . . . this sex burglar in handcuffs?” The woman’s voice was high and steely, trembling with outrage. It was Alison’s mother. She was tall and thin like a fencepost wrapped in barbed wire, wearing a pencil skirt, a blouse the color of dandelions and four-inch heels. She had thick black hair that fell to her shoulders in perfectly controlled waves and a face etched with lines from a lifetime of glowering and frowning.
    Old Pete shrugged. “My handcuffs wouldn’t fit him, even if I knew where they were. Besides, I’ve known Michael since before he was dumb enough to go exploring abandoned houses for fun. He’s harmless.”
    “The house was not abandoned.” The woman pronounced the words like she wished they were knives she could stab Pete with. “I demand he be locked up until a trial can be held.”
    “Yeah, that’s going to be a problem,” Pete said. “We don’t really have a jail here. Just sort of a room with an uncomfortable chair.”
    The woman’s eyes narrowed. Michael could sense Pete was taking exactly the wrong approach with her. She was used to being stymied, to being disappointed, to being fought with. You don’t raise several daughters on your own without developing a backbone of steel. Pete’s bumbling sheriff routine and aw shucks attitude would just piss her off with their inefficiency.
    “Maybe we should have him sent to the county lock-up then?” she asked, a note of triumph in her voice. “I’m sure the county judge would be happy to hear the case.”
    Michael was about to open his mouth, which he knew was a bad