Protected by the MC: Bear Shifter Biker Reverse Harem Read online

  Brothers? I try to count how many motorcycles I saw. At least a dozen. That means, at least a dozen people. Is it possible that they’re all blood brothers? Maybe he’s just considering them his brothers. I’ve never known anyone who was in a motorcycle club, but I’ve heard a few things about them. Loyalty is everything. Ride or die. And, they’re always bad boys. I take a quick look at Theron again. If someone asked me to guess what he did or liked to do, motorcycle riding would probably be my last guess. And yet, here he is. I have so many questions, but I can’t ask any of them, at least not until I can talk properly again.

  I feel a sudden urge to yawn and I’ve never realized how difficult it is to suppress it. I rub my eyes and when I open them again, Theron’s smiling at me.

  “I think that’s my cue to leave,” he stands in the middle of the room.

  I think this is the first time that I get a good look at him. Even though on the outside he looks like one of them, one of the bikers, it's difficult to reconcile his soft, inner nature with the rough reputation that follows this kind of man.

  This will be my first night here and he’s the only one I’ve managed to establish some kind of communication on a level that suits me. Dex is too much for me. He’s being all calm and composed with me, but I can sense it’s not in his nature to be like that most of the time. He’s suppressing his real self for me. Theron is something else. The way he is with me, that’s the way he is with everyone. I just know it. Without thinking, I start writing in the air, just scribbling, signaling at Theron that I need a pen and paper. He nods and immediately brings me a notebook with a pen.

  I quickly note down something, then give it to him to read.

  “My head and eyes hurt. Do you think you could read me a little from this book?” he reads what I’ve written, then looks up at me. “Of course. I don’t mind at all.”

  He brings a chair next to the bed and sits on it. In the meantime, I get under the covers and rest my head carefully on the pillow. My headache is starting to get worse and I hope that a good night’s rest will soothe it. The pain I feel isn’t sharp, it’s not preventing me from functioning, but there is a constant unpleasantness and I can’t wait to get rid of it.

  “I’ll read until you fall asleep,” I hear him say. “I’ll leave the book by the bed, if you want to continue reading yourself when you wake up.” I don’t nod, or say anything, but I appreciate it. Even the thought of nodding has become unpleasant at this point. “And, if you get scared, just knock on any of the shacks outside. We’re all here to help.”

  He doesn’t wait for me to reply in any way and just starts reading. The sound of his voice is soothing, it lulls me to sleep faster than I thought it would. The words to the story I know almost by heart transform into a loving lullaby, melodic like a mountain river.

  Chapter 11

  A week has passed in this strange place that seems caught between real life and some imaginary creation of a very gifted writer. Each day was slightly different from the last, with the exception of Theron and Dex being present in each of them. There are a few new faces I’ve managed to memorize, one with the name of Zarael, who caught my attention with his dark, brooding eyes and a few snippy remarks which almost made me smile painfully.

  My mother and Vanessa have been calling every single day and this has helped me not forget that I still have a life outside the confines of this little village, or whatever they choose to call it. Strangely, I realize that it is so easy to get lost here, in the mountains, in the middle of nowhere. When one doesn’t mind the passage of time, one is unburdened. There is no rush. There is no past. There is no future. There is only the present moment and it is always filled with sweet woody sensations that tickle my every sense.

  I must admit, I haven’t been really friendly. At least, not as much as I should have been, seeing these men are my saviors. If it wasn’t for them, God knows where I’d be right now. And yet, I can’t seem to relax. The lack of ability to express myself isn’t helping either. While a part of me is enjoying this place and the serenity it offers, I’m looking forward to ticking off every passing day, which brings me closer to returning home, to my family.

  It’s early in the morning when I wake up and glance at a little square alarm clock, ticking away, despite the fact that no one really cares about time. I remember the lake Theron told me about a few days ago. His exact words were: if there’s anything you’d want to take back with you, it’s the view of that lake early in the morning.

  I put on a clean set of clothes and head out. With it being still so early in the morning, the doors to most of the shacks are still closed. Everyone is still asleep. I walk down a dusty trail, having gotten used to the strange, make-shift pair of flip flops I got a few days ago. They probably won’t be a good choice for walking through the woods, but they’re all I have, so I’ll have to make due. The shacks are nestled cozily together and they all look the same, apart from the big one in the front. It’s the kitchen and that’s where I’m having my meals with the rest of the motorcycle club.

  The first time the curious glances got to me. I almost rushed back out the door that led me in, but Theron’s eyes made me stay. Dex shouted for me to join his table and I just couldn’t refuse. There’s something animalistic about him, a dominance I can’t refuse. I suppose that’s how everyone else feels about him, too. Not that I can blame them. His rowdy laughter, his manner of addressing everyone, not like he’s their boss, but like they are what’s making him so good at being the leader, is what makes his aura so welcoming. I still think he’s more Vanessa’s type to be honest, though. The first meal passed a little shakily for me, but every subsequent one was slightly less unpleasant and now, I can walk inside, feeling those glances on me like I’m a reflecting surface of a mirror. They’ll get what they expect to see.

  I pass by the kitchen shack and head to the woods. Lush greenery is all around me, as I breathe in the crisp morning air. My lungs expand in an effort to take it all in at once. My brain opens wide, my soul absorbs every single morsel of nature’s energy it can. A part of me feels like this is where I belong, this is where we all belong. We just lost our way somehow and many of us aren’t even looking for the way back. We like where we’re lost. We’ve accepted this new place, these civilized surroundings as our native ground and have adapted to it. But, as I walk through muddy soil, dew-soaked grass and still slumbering bushes, I can’t escape the notion that my soul isn’t an individual. It’s part of a unity of ancient souls that stretch out into everything that’s ever lived or that ever would live on this Earth. And, despite everything, I feel more alive than ever. Or maybe, in spite of everything.

  I keep walking, as if my life depends on it. A narrow path leads me through a row of thorny bushes, as they pull my hair and tug at my sleeves. I pay no attention to them. I keep on going. My mind retraces the steps Theron told me. I know where I’m going, even though I’ve never been there. It takes me about fifteen minutes longer and I finally reach the place I’ve been searching for.

  A small, round lake opens up before me. Its shores aren’t sandy. There is a high rock formation on one side and a narrower line of flat rocks that allow you to climb them and gaze into the depths. I look at my feet and realize that my toes are bleeding. But, it’s worth it. I don’t feel any pain. And besides, I’m not here to take a dip and taint the sanctity of these pristine waters. I just want to listen to the hum of the forest around me. I want to see the sun breaking through the cracks high up above me, as it lights up the greenery around me. The wildflowers. The fallen leaves. The steady roots.

  I climb up, soaking in the view. Theron was right. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as majestic as this. I’m in awe of the simplicity of the view before me and yet, it's the most complex thing I’ve ever seen. A notion suddenly hits me. Am I here because some ancient force wants me to be here? Is it my fate to stand on these rocks and welcome the sun this morning? I feel like a giant, like these woods and leaves and wil
dflowers are my long-lost tribe and I’ve finally found my way home. They are singing to me, sweet songs of homecoming. I want to return the favor and sing back, but even after a whole week, my jaw still hasn’t healed. I’ve managed to speak a little more than before, but Theron still advises rest until it heals fully and properly. I can’t argue with him. He speaks so sweetly that if he told me to drink poison, I’d do it.

  At that point, I see some commotion in the hidden part of the bushes. At first, it’s just a shadow and my senses all perk up. Fear has taught me to be on guard at all times now. Never let your guard down, no matter what. It could be just one of the guys, but it could be someone else. Someone not as well meaning. I crouch down, hiding myself from sight, my eyes focused on the bushes that are still moving, until someone pops out and stretches his arms high up into the sky. He’s too far away for me to see him clearly, but he’s obviously one of the club members. I stand up straight and am about to wave but he beats me to it.

  “What are you doing here at this hour?” he shouts at me, putting his hand in the line of his eyebrows, in an effort to hide his eyes from the sun. “Come on down!”

  I hesitate for a moment. I didn’t come here to socialize. On the contrary, I came here for some solitude, but obviously I won’t be having any of that. Unable to say no, I slowly climb down and head towards the guy who is now standing in a little clearing, the only safely accessible entrance to the lake. When I reach him, I realize who he is. I wave a little clumsily. I haven’t spoken much with Zarael. Only a few words in passing, well not really words, just gestures and finger pointing. But it was always with someone else and Zarael isn’t the kind to interrupt others. At least, that’s not the impression I got.

  “Came here to get away, huh?” I hear him ask and I just nod.

  When I smile now, you can tell, but not by the way my lips spread. During this week, I learned something incredible and that is how to smile with my eyes. I didn’t even realize I was doing it, but Theron recognized it first. He asked me if I was smiling and I realized that I was. Without even spreading my lips, or showing my teeth. The smile emerged wholly through my eyes. Right now, that’s what I’m doing. Sure, I wanted to be alone, but this guy caught my attention and I figured, it might be amusing to talk to someone else other than Theron or Dex.

  “You know, there’s a very interesting legend about this lake,” he suddenly says and the curiosity in my eyes assures him I want to hear more. So, he continues. “This was once Native American soil and they say this lake belongs to the star-crossed lovers, called Wawetseka and Sik’Is. The two knew that they belonged to each other from the moment their eyes met, but fate had different plans. Sik’Is brought Wawetseka’s father gifts four times, but each time her father refused them, which meant that he didn’t approve of him as his daughter’s husband. Instead, he accepted offerings from Black Bear, who was over 60 years old and he promised his daughter to him. The young lovers agreed to run away together, managing to reach this lake, where the tribal warriors caught up with them and imprisoned them. Black Bear killed Sik’Is, then tied Wawetseka to a tree, driving a sharp knife straight through her heart. He wanted them to be buried dishonorably, but The Great Spirit saw what happened and he sent a bolt of lightning out of a clear blue sky, which ended up killing Black Bear. The only witnesses to this story are two stone effigies, showing a man lying on his back with outstretched arms and a figure of a woman next to him, curled up in a fetal position. It’s covered with moss now, but you can still see some faint outlines if you look in that direction.”

  He points at the foot of the rock formation and with that story in the back of my mind, I can actually see the stone effigies. Brought back to life by the sheer power of my imagination, I could see the whole story unfold right before my eyes. Wawetseka tied to a tree, the painful gaze in her eyes as she witnessed her beloved being slain. Then, with her last dying breath she calls out his name, as a dagger pierces her heart. I close my eyes and shudder at this tragedy. The wind howls softly right next to my hair, as if it confirms that it really did happen. It witnessed the event. So did the grass, the trees, the clouds, the sun. The Great Spirit made sure the crime didn’t go unpunished.

  “This early, the water is unforgivingly cold,” he tells me, but despite that, I see him take off his t-shirt and wade into the water, up to his ankles. “Wanna join me?”

  I shake my head quickly a few times. I didn’t come here for a dip, even though the water looks beautifully transparent. He is standing in the same spot, the water moving softly around his muscular legs. He kicks his left foot playfully and we both watch the drips expand in ever-growing rings, mirroring the image of the morning sun. Seeing him there, I want to feel the coolness of the water with the tips of my fingers, but I don’t move. Instead, I gaze into the middle of the lake, trying to see the bottom, but although the water is so clear, it’s impossible to do so. I can glimpse the rocks below, but how far down they go, ten feet or thirty, I can’t really tell.

  Zarael takes a few more steps, then glances back at me.

  “Your loss!” he shouts and instantly, dives right in.

  His body fully immerses itself into the water. They become one. He is piercing through the watery veil like he belongs there, like he was earth-bound for a day and now, it’s time for him to go back underwater. He goes in so deep that I can’t see him any longer. The water must be freezing and I immediately change my mind about trying it, even with just a pinkie. I wait for him to resurface, but there is no sign of him. The surface shone like a molten mirror, quiet and secretive. Telling nothing. A few more seconds pass and I stare into the water more intently.

  Why isn’t he coming out? What if he hit his head on the rocks below when he dived in? He could be bleeding out at the bottom of the lake. But I don’t see any blood. The water would probably dilute it, even if there was any.

  Frantic, I take a step into the water, half expecting to see Zarael’s dead face stare right at me from the depths. I hear the silent invitation to dive in, but I’m scared. That welcoming blackness is too frightening, the rocks too sharp. The sky above me is clear, as if showing a polar opposite of what happens beneath the depths. My heart is in my throat now, pounding, racing, skipping every second beat.

  A moment later, a head pops up, then a hand spritzing some water my way.

  “Made you go in!” he starts laughing and I swear I never wanted to kill someone as much as him at that moment.

  I point at him, then swirl my palm around its axis, in the level of my head, signaling to him that he must be crazy to do such a thing to me. It takes my heart a few seconds to go back to its rightful place and to start beating normally again.

  “I’m not crazy!” he shouts, spitting some water, then does a few dolphin kicks, but the water splashing doesn’t reach me.

  I watch him as he does a few laps and about half an hour later, we are both sitting on the grass a little further away from the lake. We can still see it, but it’s hidden from plain view by luscious trees and shrubbery. I lean back resting my palms against the soft grass and close my eyes. The sun is much warmer now and the water must be a little more pleasant, too. But I haven’t changed my mind about that dip. After what Zarael put me through, I doubt I’ll be taking one more step in.

  “So, how’s your jaw healing?” Zarael asks me, his voice coming from my right side, where he’s sitting.

  I open my eyes and turn to him. He’s not really the definition of a handsome man. Surely not as handsome as Dex or Theron. This guy always wears a mischievous grin, a warm possibility of something to come. You don’t know what that something is, but you can sense it’ll be something you’ll enjoy. I noticed him talking to a few people before and whatever he was saying, made them all laugh out loud. Dex said Zarael’s jokes were always bad, but a good kind of bad. I think I know exactly what he meant by that.

  Instead of a reply, I give him an energetic thumbs up, which he welcomes with a grin. We both gaze into the
distance again and I remember the city once more. Only, it’s not a wistful longing for coffee shops and busy streets of strangers rushing off somewhere. That world seems to have exploded somewhere far away and these men here have become my shoulder to lean on. None of us has said it in those words, but I feel like we all have this silent agreement that they will be here for me until I can walk and talk once more like before, until I can finally go back to my life, forgetting that this whole nightmare ever happened.

  But, that’s just it. I’m not sure if I want to forget. If this nightmare never happened, I would never have ended up here. I feel like the storm has passed and I’m building my inner strength, while having these men to thank for that. By these men, I mean Theron, Dex and Zarael. They are the ones who have showered me with their time and effort at making me heal. The others are also here, I know that, but they are simply acquaintances, while these three have become friends in an amazingly short amount of time.

  And, I can’t imagine how different each of them is. I glance again at Zarael. The jokester. The one to make everyone laugh, even if that makes him look a little silly. Always up for a good time. And so amusing with his knowledge of all sorts of things that many people might not know, like the legend about this lake. I’m sure that none of the other guys knows it. Then, I remember Theron. No man has ever taken such care of me before. He has tended to me in my hour of need and if he hadn’t bandaged me up so nicely, who knows what could have happened. I dare not even think about that. I remember how softly he read to me the other night, how he didn’t mind doing me that silly favor. With him, I feel safe, like a ship finally docked into a safe harbor and I don’t have to be afraid any longer, simply because he is around. Then, Dex. Dexis. I don’t think that I’ve heard any of the guys calling him that. He’s always just Dex. And yet, it’s obvious that he is the leader. He needs no title. He feels it in his own heart and so do his brothers. That’s enough. That’s the characteristic of a true leader. Not to impose your rule onto anyone, but simply be what others need you to be. What he is to me - I’m not sure. I shy underneath his gaze. While I can look at Theron in the eyes and not look away, this isn’t possible with Dex. The strength of his persona makes me feel inadequate, almost like I’m not worthy to be saved by him, to be talking to him.