Free The Bear's Surrogate: A Paranormal Pregnancy Romance by Angela Foxxe Page B

warm embrace.  “I’m so...so sorry.  I should have told you.  If I had, you probably wouldn’t have agreed to carry my child.”
    “Well, now it’s killing me,” she spat, pulling away from him.  “I don’t know what to do now; I might go to the city for an abortion just so I don’t get ripped apart.”
    “That isn’t possible,” he said softly.  “The child would tear you apart to preserve its own life if you tried.”
    “It’s tearing me apart now,”  Rachel said, as she shook with rage.  “You have no idea what this is doing to me.”
    “Yes, I do,” he said softly.  “I witnessed Igor’s mother go through the same torture as you are.  Only another who is under the Bjorn clan curse can carry a Bjorn child. I was foolish to try with another normal human.”
    “Another?” Rachel shouted. “What do you mean another?”
    “Well, I have tried at least four times prior to you.  All four have met with unfortunate results.  Three went through ectopic pregnancies that ruptured and killed them. The other went insane and hurled herself off the cliffs.  You felt different, stronger.  I almost had hope.”
    Igor coughed nervously, interrupting the two.  “I remember my father saying, if he had just taken mother to the Aerie, she might have lived, while he was experiencing one of his nights of drunken self-pity.”  
    The man tossed the folded clothes towards the naked Valemon.  “I have no idea where the Aerie could be, but it’s worth a shot.  We can’t go back to the manor.  Hans has summoned the Úlfhéðnar to search for Rachel.  Rumor has it that the Ironwood clan also need females that they can sire offspring from.”
    Valemon grunted as he pulled on his clothes. “Yes, I guess they can’t get on Angrboda anymore.”
    Igor smiled “Yeah I’m guessing that fucking their grandmother lost its luster long ago.  They seek fresh meat.”
    Rachel coughed. “I’m right here, you know. This Ironwoods clan, or whatever they are, are looking for me? Are they crazy animal people, like you two?”
    “Yes,” Valemon answered.  “They are the dire wolves you encountered on your first visit here.  Some are locked in their bestial form.  Some can shift between the two, like Hans.”
    “Wait, you knew Hans belonged to your enemy?” she interrupted.
    “Yes.  Long ago, there was a battle.  We struck it from the national history roles and shattered all the rune stones that mentioned it.  It was long and bloody.  The bears, my clan, fought the clan that belonged to the Troll Hag, Angrboda, because my ancestor slighted her and married another.  She really handled the rejection poorly.  After half a century of warfare, my ancestor and Fenrir fought for days in a great battle, neither would give quarter.  He wanted to defend his mother’s honor, and my ancestor, Valemon, yes, I carry the same name, fought to defend his honor. Angrboda finally had enough as both of the combatants wore down.  My ancestor and she agreed to a truce.  In that agreement, she cast an enchantment on our clan.  By the time each male reaches fifty years of age, if he has not produced an offspring, and offered it to her in sacrifice, he shall be forever locked in his bear form.  To make sure we honored our end of the bargain, she sent one of her grandchildren to watch over us.”
    “Where do I come in?” Rachel asked.
    Valemon heaved a heavy sigh and continued with his story.  “The only acceptable offspring was one of pure Bjorn blood.  Angrboda would have no other.   For generations, despite great pain and sorrow, we honored our agreement with the witch of the Iron Woods, for we did not want another war.    Then one day, while my father was out hunting with my mother and sisters, Angrboda snapped and set her dire wolves to attack them.  They didn’t have a chance,” Valemon said through gritted teeth. 
    “I was then set up as heir, at thirty.  My wife, whom I was paired with since