MARS (BBW Bear Shifter MC Romance) (MC Bear Mates Book 1) Read online

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  MARS

  MC Bear Mates I

  by

  Becca Fanning

  Chapter One

  It had been a long time since Annette Vogel had been on the back of a hog, but shit, it felt good.

  The wind in her hair, the heavy vibration between her legs, the sun beating down on her… it really had been too damn long, and she knew it was exactly what she needed.

  PTSD was a bitch. As well as a constant, living minefield. Yet the freedom she felt atop this beast seemed to quench the constant cloud hanging overhead, bringing with it a relief so strong it almost made her wilt into the biker in front of her.

  Almost… Had the biker, a guy called Mundo, not been so sure of his own attractions, she might have let him support her, but if she did anything so foolish, he’d think she was coming on to him. And she really wasn’t.

  Yeah, he was handsome. Yeah, he was the key to a story that she was desperate to write. And yeah, he was a Shifter—a creature so mysterious, few humans even knew if they’d come into contact with one—but she hated guys who wore their self-assurance like a pair of jeans. It grated on her.

  Ego, she could understand. Pride, too, because she had it and ego in buckets. But she didn’t wear them like a shield. Her self-image wasn’t founded on them, and though she sensed Mundo was a decent enough guy, she didn’t want to send him mixed signals. Screwing a Shifter would be an experience, hell, it would be more than that, but her own code of ethics wouldn’t let her.

  She’d be using him as men used women on a daily basis, Annette knew, but she didn’t have to equal such behavior. She’d never understood how guys collected their ‘lays’ like trophies, bragging about how many women they’d fucked to their friends… but in Mundo’s presence, a light of understanding shone through and that horrified her enough to add starch to her bones which kept her upright and steering clear of Mundo.

  They’d been traveling for thirty minutes now, heading east. They’d cleared Houston proper, and were journeying to somewhere a little greener. At the side of the road, train tracks had been laid and even as she stared at them, Annette heard the stomp and hiss of a train as it neared them.

  As fast as Mundo was going, a lot more than was technically legal, it was nothing to the machine that sped by. The wind that gusted past steered them off course a little, dragging them nearer to the middle of the road before Mundo straightened out his path.

  She peered over his shoulder, wondering where the hell they were going and when they’d arrive.

  This entire day hadn’t worked out the way she’d figured it would.

  She’d gone to her shrink, listened to another lecture about how she ought to be doing things, techniques, processes… in an attempt to start leading a more ordinary life, but all the while had been excited at the prospect of meeting the man driving her to only God knew where.

  Mundo had contacted her a few weeks ago with information about a human trafficking circle. He was a whistle blower, but he was the oddest one she’d ever come across.

  As an investigative journalist, she’d come across quite a few of them. Most were geeky, into computers—a lot hacked their way into the systems they fed her information about. They tended to live on the right side of the law until something broke them from that path, something immoral enough to urge them into action.

  Mundo was a biker. More than that, he belonged to an MC, and wore the cut with a handful of patches to prove it. He wasn’t a geek and she highly doubted lawless behavior had him tossing and turning at night before he fell asleep. One thing that was familiar was the need to reveal the truth about something immoral to someone with a soapbox.

  Annette’s soapbox was squeaky clean and ready to rock.

  Hell, her editor was gagging for this story. He’d have printed it yesterday given half the chance, but she’d had to wait for this meeting with Mundo before crafting any kind of article. She’d figured it would work the way it usually did. Annette would be handed a USB drive with pertinent information, and from there, she’d craft whatever kind of story she wanted.

  Of course, this time, her first story since she’d returned from reporting on the front lines in the Middle East, things had to be more complicated.

  He was taking her to someone higher up in his MC. Someone who had details. Someone who could help her write an editorial that would bust the trafficking circle apart.

  The very notion was like quicksilver through her veins. It gave her an adrenaline buzz so powerful, she almost missed the fact they were turning off down a wide path which led down a narrow country lane. Sand and dust shot up around her, showering her white shirt with red particles that she doubted she’d ever be able to eradicate—not only was she not renowned for her domestic abilities, things never stayed white when she was in charge of the the laundry anyway. Mentally assigning the shirt to the trash can, she peeked around Mundo’s shoulder and studied the warehouse up ahead.

  There was a huge gate in front of it, currently closed, but behind the bars, she could see a small field of bikes. At least three dozen of them. They all sat in shiny rows, glints from the sunlight reflecting off their metal bodies. It would have been enough to blind her if not for her shades.

  She expected the gate to open, but instead, Mundo drove around the warehouse, which was squat in the middle of nowhere, a handful of times until finally the gate did open, but it released a lone biker. Together, they drove off, back down the country lane complete with red dust shower, and onto the open road.

  Curiosity at the oddness of their behavior quenched her annoyance at how long this was taking. She wanted to know what the hell was going on more than she wanted to go home, so she kept her hands on Mundo’s hips and carried on studying the journey they were taking.

  A small pit stop appeared on the horizon. When they pulled in, the change of pace set another type of vibration to purring between her legs. She almost jolted and had to gulp at the arousal the vibrations triggered. It was with relief that she stepped off the bike, firmed her shaky legs, and removed her helmet.

  The sun powered down overhead, making sweat bead on her brow. Without the warm breeze from the road, it started to gather quickly and she reached for the pack of paper handkerchiefs she always kept tucked in her purse.

  As she dabbed at her forehead, Mundo climbed off the bike and their new companion did too. Without a word, the two men strode for the diner attached to the gas station, and she followed.

  When the door opened and a small wave of cool air hit her, she sighed with relief. There was climate control here—not a lot, but enough to keep the sweat at bay. A few patrons buzzed around at the counter, some finishing off their meals, others just starting, but the back part of the restaurant, where there were more tables, was empty.

  The guys carried on to the corner of the diner, which came complete with red leather booths and scratched Formica tables loaded with swipe-clean menus and large bottles of ketchup and mustard. A waitress popped out from nowhere, and Annette realized she’d been on her knees sweeping something up because she had dustpan and small brush in her hand. When the woman saw Mundo and the stranger, she smile
d.

  “Pip!”

  “Pippa?”

  Both men spoke in unison with equal consternation.

  In a light blue tabard, complete with white pinny and white sneakers, the woman, Pip, made a curtsy.

  “What are you doing here?” the stranger asked as Mundo grabbed Pip and swirled her into a hug.

  “Working, Mars. What do you think?”

  Well, well, the stranger finally had a name.

  Mars frowned, apparently not liking the answer. “I thought you wanted to get away from the MC.”

  “It’s been two weeks and I already miss it,” Pip replied, tone dry and self-deprecating. “I figured this way I was out of it but when you guys came in, I’d get to see you all and hang out. Mr Jeffreys, the guy who owns this place, knew I’d hung around the MC. He figured it would be good for business to have me on staff.”

  The arm Mundo had slung around Pip’s shoulder tightened. “Anyone would be lucky to have you. We all miss you, baby.”

  She pinkened, then patted him on the belly. Their easy manner, the simple touches, and free interactions told Annette the two of them had slept together. Mars’s ease also seemed to indicate he and Pip had been a couple too.

  From what she knew of MCs, she figured Pip had been a club bunny. One of the women the guys passed around. Fucking with no commitment.

  Annette had never understood why a woman would want to be treated like a piece of chattel, but each to their own. And considering how pretty Pip was, with her luminous green eyes, pale but creamy skin, luscious red lips, and curvy figure, she really didn’t need to whore herself out to get male attention.

  Pip flushed when she saw Annette studying her. Knowing that Pip had probably read Annette’s thoughts and had figured out she’d been a bunny, she ducked her head.

  Shame.

  Interesting.

  Annette pursed her lips at the thought but as she approached the table where Mars and Mundo had taken a seat, she made sure to smile at the other woman. Seeing it, Pip flushed a little harder. She cleared her throat and asked, “Can I get you anything to drink?”

  The guys asked for a beer but Annette requested a cup of coffee. When Pip dashed off to fill the order, Mundo smiled at her approvingly. What he approved she didn’t really know, but figured he was thankful she hadn’t treated Pip poorly.

  Annette guessed a lot of women would have done. But she’d learned over the years never to judge. The reasons behind why a person made the choices they did were their own. Shit, the choices and decisions she’d made over her life were enough to confuse anyone, so she sure as hell couldn’t comment.

  Mundo had taken a seat next to Mars, leaving her to sit opposite the two men. For the first time, Mars didn’t have his back to her, and she took a second to study him. The instant their eyes clashed, hers connecting with eyes so blue they made the Caribbean sea look wishy-washy, Annette felt her knees give way.

  And she wasn’t even joking.

  The cartilage, the ball of her joint, the tendons and the muscles, all seemed to disappear as she staggered at the connection that arced between her and the stranger. Foolish in no way described how she felt, but when she finally grabbed onto the booth for support, and Mundo reached over to keep her upright, she managed to look back at him properly and saw he was just as stunned.

  The instant Mundo’s hands touched her though, as impersonal as they were, as helpful as they were, a low growl blasted the table. Arctic in temperature, it had Mundo freezing in his tracks, his hands turning to ice where they gripped her, making the pressure on her waist almost unbearable.

  The tableau shattered when Pip approached, cheerfully saying, “It’s a fresh pot of coffee, so I brought you a large mug, Miss.”

  Mundo immediately released Annette and sat down with a whoosh. Every part of her still shaking, she managed to tear her gaze from Mars’s and with tremors so fine wracking her she must have looked like she was vibrating, she sat down heavily.

  Pip didn’t seem to sense the undercurrents rippling between them, but she settled down the drinks and said, “I guess this is club business, so I’ll leave you in peace. Wave me over if you need me.”

  The woman’s cheer added some warmth to the chills darting up and down Annette’s body, but not enough to stop the shivering. A large paw of a hand swept across the table. The thick, spatulate fingers connected with Annette’s and the heat, the instantaneous shock of warmth, had a moan escaping her.

  She shuddered once more as it pulsed through her veins, sending glorious swathes of fire through her chilled soul. A cry escaped her when the burning seemed to find a focus on her wrists. Pain swamped her now, and where the heat had once been delicious, now it was as agonizing as that sudden dash of cold had been when her eyes had connected with Mars’s. She tried to pull her hand from his, but his grip was as fierce as Mundo’s had accidentally been. Because his grasp restricted movement, she turned her other hand, palm up, and nearly wept at the sight before her.

  Like something from a horror movie, her blood had began to pool in the veins at her wrist, almost like a super-tight tourniquet was blocking the flow. But there was no puddle, no rise like there would have been with a blood blister. The flesh of her wrist was flat, but blood still gathered, and then as suddenly as it had come together, it dispersed. Slinking over the rise and fall of her wrist, moving sinuously, weaving a pattern her blood seemed to know. Like a super thin row of chain mail, it swirled around her radius, and with each intricate knot of the chain came pain. When the ring was complete, she shuddered as the pain disappeared, but the ‘bracelet’ didn’t.

  She stared down at it, ‘it’ which could only be described as a blood tattoo, and felt her vision start to fade. Her gaze blur as horror and shock began to merge together.

  Mars’s other hand snapped out, reaching for her, and only that stopped her from passing out.

  The man who made her feel faint was also her version of smelling salts.

  How fucked up was that?

  “What’s going on?” she cried, her voice a whispery breath. She didn’t dare look at Mars, so looked to Mundo—a relative life raft in this chaos—but he flinched when that low growl sounded once more. Her eyes darted to Mars and the growl immediately stopped. Large thumbs swept over her hands and thumbed the veins at her wrist. The small touch soothed the shadowy pain that still hovered there at her pulse point.

  “I’ll deal with this Mundo,” Mars finally said, his voice like gravel. It set her nerves alight even as his eyes never left Annette’s and his thumbs maintained that soft massage. “I’ll meet you back at the clubhouse.”

  “A-Are yo…” Mundo let his glance flicker between them before he got to his feet without another word and without completing his question.

  “What’s happening?” she whispered again, her lips quivering, stuttering the words as the power of the moment hit her.

  Once again, he didn’t answer her question. “My name is Mars. You’re Annette.”

  Dazed at the way he said her name, like he was savoring it, making love to each syllable, she gave a shaky nod, then confirmed, “Yes, I’m Annette.”

  “Say my name, Annette.” His voice was low with the hint of a command, but it didn’t trigger her natural response to demands—she didn’t rebel as she would have done with any other living creature on God’s green Earth—instead, and for the first time in her life, she complied.

  “Mars.” She wanted to wince at the breathiness behind his name but couldn’t because she didn’t have it in her.

  His eyes flickered to a shut at the longing in her tone, before the lids lifted again. This time, his eyes weren’t the exotic cerulean of the Caribbean ocean, they were a stormy gray. “We need to get out of here.”

  She gulped at the urgency in his voice, the desperation that had appeared. But she couldn’t let him dictate to her now. She tugged at his grip on her hands and asked, “What’s going on?”