Bear Skin: A Billionare Oil Bearons Romance (BBW/Bearshifter Romance) (Bear Fursuits Book 6)

By Isadora Montrose

Romance, Paranormal

eBook

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440
3 mins

Warming Up A Frozen Bear

Jenna opened her door and a snow covered giant took a step towards her. He swayed. His face was rimed with snow and his lips were blue. “Angel,” he croaked and fell forward on her.

Only long and severe training made her step out of his way. “Never, ever catch a husband,” Madge Eaton the midwife she had apprenticed with had told her. “If they injure you, who’s going to catch the baby, or prevent the mom from hemorrhaging?”

Nonetheless the man succeeded in smearing her pretty new gown on his way down. Well, snow brushed off she thought as she closed her door against the blowing storm. But the dark patches on the blue were mud. Crap. Well, it was highly unlikely that practical Sharon Bascom had made a dressing gown for her daughter that could not be washed.

These uncharitable thoughts were at the back of her mind, as she briskly rolled the man onto his back. He was breathing, but shallowly. His skin was stiff and icy, but in the limited light cast by the stove and the lantern, she could not be sure if he had frostbite. For sure he had hypothermia.

He was wet under his frozen poncho and parka. And when she stripped off his hat and gloves his head was cold as death and his fingers stiff. Clumps of icy snow clung to his face and didn’t melt. His torso was just as cold and his pulse was weak.

Jen was moving towards her bedroom and her first aid kit before she had fully taken in the fact that this man was a stranger. He looked roughly like her brothers, so likely he was kin, even if she couldn’t place him. Soon she was kneeling beside him again, cutting him out of his frozen clothes.

She wasn’t surprised to see fatigues and a military sweater under his parka. In the half-light she couldn’t read his dog tags or name tags. Because he certainly looked like a bearshifter — all hairy barrel chest and heavy, sculpted muscles. But why hadn’t the blamed fool taken bear and avoided hypothermia? Because now that his things were thawing, she could smell that he was a shifter, only maybe not such close kin as she had thought.

But certainly a shifter who outweighed her by an easy seventy pounds. He needed warming, and fast, or he wasn’t going to make it. She covered him with the rug she had brought from her bedroom to move him on, and set about sliding her couch out of their path to the stove.

Even when she transferred him to the rug, it was like moving a tree. He lay sprawled and unresponsive to her chatter as she rolled him onto the rug. And he was just as inert as she tugged his dead weight across to the stove.

“Now who sent you here, Bear?” she wondered aloud. “Who had family for Christmas? And a baby on the way? Who sent you overland, instead of driving up themselves?” She couldn’t think of any match. But somewhere on the Ridge, likely a mother lay in premature labor, waiting for help. Or someone had had a heart attack. She had to get this big lummox warm enough to speak, or somebody might die.

She finally had time to light a second lantern. He was blue with white patches. She bathed him gently with tepid water to wash the mud and snow off. His color didn’t improve. His heart continued to beat sluggishly. As she bathed him, she covered and uncovered him with the throw from the couch. It was nowhere near big enough to cover him all at once and, when she was done, it was muddy. His hairy chest and legs peeped out from under the red fleece.

He sure looked like a Bascom. Big and muscular and furry. His baby maker was a sad and shriveled sight and his balls were tucked up inside so deep he was almost neutered. His long feet were pale and cold but she figured his wool socks had saved them from frostbite. His face looked gaunt under its half-grown beard.

Now how to get this fellow warm? She didn’t need to take his internal temperature to know he was cold clear through. His heart might yet fail if she didn’t get his temperature up. She stoked the stove and added logs to get the cabin daytime warm again.

With a sigh she went for her king-sized down comforter. Then she rolled the stranger so his back was to the stove. Standing beside the soldier’s comatose body she began to remove her robe and nightgown. She turned her lantern off to conserve the batteries.

Jenna lay down with him, skin to skin, so that her back warmed his front. It was like snuggling with an iceberg. Shivering with cold she pulled the quilt over both their heads to make a cocoon. She began to massage his freezing shins with her feet.

After a few minutes she forced herself to turn so they lay belly to belly. She cupped his frigid face in her palms and let him steal her heat. Gradually his icy body leached the warmth from hers. Under the puffy comforter, she began to shiver. But eventually she fell asleep, pressed up against this stranger who smelled just as her heart told her that her mate should smell.



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