Candace Ayers [Ayers - Royal Bear

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No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the authors imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

This book is intended for adult readers only.

Any sexual activity portrayed in these pages occurs between consenting adults over the age of 18 who are not related by blood.

P.O.L.A.R. (Private Ops: League Arctic Rescue) is a specialized, private operations task forcea maritime unit of polar bear shifters. Part of a world-wide, clandestine army comprised of the best of the best shifters, P.O.L.A.R.s home base is Siberiauntil the team pisses somebody off and gets re-assigned to Sunkissed Key, Florida and these arctic shifters suddenly find themselves surrounded by sun, sand, flip-flops and palm trees.

In the search for her missing brother,

Free-spirited Grace

finds some firsts

friends, family, a home,

and a hot shifter who captures her heart.

To claim Grace as his mate,

Konstantin must not only renounce his title

and shun his duties,

he must betray his friends.

Being a Royal Bear is a royal b*tch.

1

Grace

M id November mornings were colder than a witchs tit in South Dakota. The seasons had snuck up on me this year. Normally, Freebird, Damocles and I would have already headed farther south by this time of year.

Freebird was my home on wheels, a converted sprinter van. Even though her single pane windows were covered with thickly-padded blackout blinds at night, she wasnt insulated well for these colder temperatures.

Usually the only tools I had in my arsenal to combat the chill were a hot water bottle for my toes, a thick down comforter, and my not-so-friendly tabby cat, Damocles. This morning, I had an extra tool. He was still asleep.

Ted was sawing logs on the pillow next to mine. Or was his name Ed? Maybe Fred. Pretty sure it was something that rhymed with dead. Which was appropriate considering the quality of our party in the sheets last night.

I rolled off the 4-inch foam mattress and padded naked over to the little cubby where I stored my clothes. Shivering, I threw on a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt with #vanlife written across the front, then started the propane burner under my mini coffee percolator.

I lived a roving existence, traveling from state to state wherever whimand weathertook me, and Freebird enabled me to remain off-grid.

My peripatetic lifestyle gave me the opportunity to appreciate all the beauty this country had to offer, from the quaint fishing villages of coastal Maine to the flat prairies of waving Kansas wheat, to the old western ghost towns that dotted the Nevada desert.

It also meant I never put down roots, never developed friendships, and was never anything but an outsider, a nomada perpetual stranger. This was the life Id always known. The life Id lived ever since I could remember.

My current place of residence, if it could be called such, was the Black Hills of the South Dakota Badlands. For four months, Id been parked out in wilderness shaped by buttes and harsh, white-clay terrain washed nearly barren from centuries of flash flooding. Most mornings, the grassy mesas were speckled with prairie dogs, grazing wild bison, and the occasional big horned sheep.

As I tore the blackout pads off the windows, hoping it would serve to rouse Fred, Damocles sat coolly giving me the evil eye. Not sure if it was because I slept late and his breakfast was delayed, or because he was pissed at having to share our tiny living space with Fred. Ed? To say he wasnt keen on strangers was an understatement.

As a peace offering, I opened a can of his favorite 9 Lives, seafood flavored, and set it on the floor in front of him. Then, I glanced over at the sleeping Ned. He needed to go. I was eager to head into town to check my emails. Id been waiting impatiently for an email from my brother Gray for the past two weeks. Five years older than me, Gray was just about as nomadic and hard to pin down as I was. With each of us always on the move, and frequently in different time zones, wed tired of trying to reach each other by phone years ago. A simple email on the first and the fifteenth of every month was how we kept in touch and assured one another we were still alive and kicking.

And, for seven years now, like clockwork, we emailed on our scheduled days. Seven years without fail. Never misseduntil two weeks ago. When I didnt hear back from Gray on the first of November, I told myself not to panic. I waited a full two weeks without panicking. Yesterday was the fifteenth and I emailed again. Nothing. If I didnt hear from him todaywell, I wasnt sure what Id do. My stomach twisted into a knot at the thought.

Debbie

Debbie?

I suddenly realized Jed was awake. Damn, I had to start remembering what name I gave my overnight guests. Not that Damocles, Freebird and I entertained many overnight guests. It wasnt a frequent habit, but hey, a girl had needs. I smiled at Ned, which apparently served to encourage him.

So I was thinking, Debbie, theres supposed to be a storm front moving in later tonight. Maybe you and me could head to town this afternoon and take in a movie or something? What do you say?

Ernot today. I have a full workday planned.

Ted looked dejected. Okay, maybe an early dinner?

Gee, Ed, take a hint.

I smiled tightly then cleared my throat. Look, last night was great and all

As I paused to select my words carefully, an old Janice Joplin tune ran through my head: Dont you know that youre nothing more than a one-night stand. Tomorrow Ill be on my way

Fortunately, Ed was intuitive enough to pick up what I was putting down. But youre kicking me to the curb, is that it?

I shrugged. Well, I wouldnt exactly put it that way

Naw, its okay, I get it. To give Ned credit, he didnt try to persuade me that he was the next great love of my life if only Id give him a chance. He merely nodded, said his goodbye, and even tried to pat Damocles on the head before he left. Damocles hissed and the hair stood up along his spine. Typical. The cat would have gotten a chunk of flesh if Ned hadnt pulled his hand back so quickly. Grumpy cat.

Relieved that my overnight guest wasnt a cling-on, I folded my comforter, tucked away my bedding and transformed my bed platform back into a bench sofa. Then, sipping on my first cup of liquid energy, I grabbed a granola bar and slipped into the drivers seat for the daily half hour commute to Wall. As if on cue, Damocles leaped into the copilots seat, curled up, and began his morning tongue bath.