Sixpence & Whiskey Read Online Free PDF Page B

the rough edges, but even more, I love the way it doesn’t. It makes everything inside me that much more raw. It’s not so much that the walls come down—it’s that they don’t matter anymore.
    That’s what I crave. Because unlike my sisters, things matter too much to me. They always have.
    I kick open the door that always sticks, intent on having a little alone time to contemplate the last twenty-four hours.
    Turns out my office is already occupied.

5
    Another bear. Holy horned one , why me ? Georg’s second, Stephen, is in my chair. And he’s got his fucking boots on my desk.
    I’ve known Stephen almost as long as Georg, but it’s been over a year since we were face to face.
    The night of Georg’s proposal, in fact. I haven’t seen any of the guys since then.
    Bears aren’t exactly pack animals, like wolves. (Thank god for enormous favors). They don’t live in large numbers, couldn’t even if they wanted to—and believe me, they don’t want to. The Den generally houses no more than three to six male bruins at a time and maybe half that many females. Only rarely do they see cubs. Bruins don’t breed often or well—sad for them, great for the world as a whole.
    Part of the reason I think Georg is so obsessed with the idea of me as his queen is that, as a witch, he thinks I’ll be more fertile or something. Get past that little hump, har har . Which, to be honest, is definitely within the realm of my magic, if I were so inclined. Fertility stuff comes easy to me, and I have a green thumb like you wouldn’t believe.
    But as previously stated, I am not so inclined.
    Being king of North America, and effectively South America, which only has one species of bruin, Georg Kivistö is the law unto his kind on this continent. He’s descended from the bear shifters of Russia and is the third of his family to be king here. There’s a reason for that. He may have a soft spot where I’m concerned, but make no mistake, Georg Kivistö is no fucking teddy bear.
    Neither is his second. Stephen Krueger. Shaggy, black hair. A heavy, but well-trimmed beard (I know, I know, but they’re bears, all that hair is kind of a thing). And very unusually for his kind—blue eyes, startling in all that darkness.
    He watches me give him a once-over, giving me right one back, a frown slowly creasing his brow.
    “What?” I huff in exasperation. “See anything green?”
    Stephen eyes me again. “Nah, it’s just—you’re cute and all, Seph—but I don’t see what Georg does. Your sister is smoking, though,” he ponders.
    I ponder setting his ass on fire to get it out of my spot, then decide it’s not fair to take Georg’s bull out of Stephen’s hide. Damn my sense of fairness anyway.
    “You mean the sister that kicked your bruin ass?” I say with a half grin.
    He bristles. “She didn’t exactly kick—”
    I roll my eyes and shove his massive legs off my desk with a grunt. “Whatever. I don’t care. Unless you’re here to re-attempt kidnapping for your not-so-noble leader, which I might add would be a seriously bad idea, get lost.”
    “Where’s Kivistö?”
    I shrug, feeling slightly uneasy that he doesn’t know but brushing it off. No way that fall actually hurt Georg. Bears can fucking swim. I should know. I’ve been skinny dipping with Georg more than once. The man practically has gills. He’s just off somewhere licking his metaphorical wounds. “No idea. What’s the matter, your mind mojo off-line or something?”
    Like all shifters, bears can communicate through a rudimentary type of telepathy that’s heavy on emotions and visuals.
    “He’s not picking up.”
    “Maybe he wants to be left alone then, Stephen.”
    He scowls. “He’s the king, he’s not allowed to be left alone. Would your sister know anything?”
    “She didn’t touch him.” At least I’m pretty sure.
    “She wouldn’t have to. Ajax and Dominic are still recuperating from tangling with her.”
    My smile is evil, because Stephen