The Bear's Surrogate: A Paranormal Pregnancy Romance Read online

  “You want me to lean on you?” she asked, as the shaggy shoulder presented itself to her.

  The bear snorted as it leaned closer. She decided to take it as an affirmative response and grabbed on to the soft white fur to support herself.

  “I dropped my camera somewhere around here; do you think we can go get it?” she asked the bear. She felt silly, because she highly doubted the creature could understand her, but it was worth a shot. The bear shuffled towards where Rachel had last seen her camera. She saw it on the ground nearby and hobbled over to retrieve it. She looped the strap around her neck and grabbed the patient bear’s fur once again. “My camp isn’t too far from here. Thanks for the help.”

  The bear snorted once again as it escorted the human female out of his woods to the beach. The bear stopped at the forest’s edge and Rachel had to make it to her camp on her own. “Can’t go any further than the trees huh?” she asked. She knew she wouldn’t get a response from the massive ursine, but it was a way to break the silence. “Lucky my camp is pretty close to the tree line. Thanks for the help. I’ll just sit here until my ride comes to get me.”

  The bear looked at the camera and looked back at her, inquisitively. She felt that it didn’t want her taking its picture. “Don’t want me picturing you? Don’t worry I won’t, I really don’t want to make you mad.” She grinned.

  The bear turned around and walked back into the forest, content with her answer. Rachel watched the massive creature disappear into the darkness of the forest. She wondered what else lived among those mysterious trees. Unfortunately, she couldn’t find out until her ankle healed.

  Rachel hobbled to her camp and checked the fire. She noticed it had gone out while she was away, and she was famished. She re-lit it, and searched for some rations to heat up for a meal. She needed a warm food after the stress she had been through. Her clothes were damp from her tumble in the forest, and she was beginning to catch a chill. Her ankle throbbed mercilessly, taking the edge off her appetite.

  She grabbed her first aid bag from her rucksack and pulled out some painkillers. She washed them down with a swig of water from her canteen, and set to work immobilizing her broken joint. She had hurt herself in the field before, just not this badly. She had multiple scars all over her body from where she had to give herself stitches from encounters with animals, or from falls onto jagged rocks, sticks, what have you. Being a freelance photographer was full of risks, which she gladly took.

  She settled down and elevated her injured ankle as best as she could and waited for the fisherman to return.

  *

  Rachel grabbed her crutches and limped around her flat located in downtown Trondheim, Norway. The ancient Norse city bustled with activity as people went about their daily business. She had been back for two weeks now, and her broken ankle was on the mend.

  She sat down at her computer and noticed an email notification pop up. Rachel opened up the program and saw an email from the submissions department of National Geographic Magazine sitting in her inbox.

  Wired with anticipation, she clicked it. There was an offer of a substantial amount of money for her photographs of the hidden island in the fjord, as well as an offer for a team to escort her back to the island when she had recovered from her injury. She typed in a hasty acceptance email along with the deposit information for the money. When she was finished, she rose from her chair and hobbled out to go for a stroll down the streets of the old city.

  She hopped along down the street on her wooden crutches. Her ankle had a clean break, so luckily she didn’t need surgery, just a boot to keep her foot immobile while it healed. She went into her favorite cafe and ordered her usual, a mocha cappuccino. She picked up the English language newspaper that had been left on her table and began to read through it. As much as she enjoyed her career, this latest incident put a dark pall on her desire to continue. She didn’t really want to go out there with National Geographic, but the nest egg she had accumulated wouldn’t last long here in Norway, even the hefty sum that she had just gotten paid wouldn’t really keep her afloat for very long.

  Her citizenship application was nearly complete as well, and it would be a shame if she had to move back to Maine. She was so tired of that place. Everyone was so small-town provincial. She had always wanted to see the world, ever since she was a young child. She had seen her fair share of it in her ten-year career as a freelance photojournalist. At thirty, she was starting to feel the urge to settle down.

  She spotted an ad in the paper. “WANTED: healthy young woman for surrogate. Contact Valemon Bjornson, will pay handsomely.” In the ad there was a mobile number to text if interested. Rachel thought it probably wouldn’t hurt, and a pregnancy would give her a convenient out to give to National Geographic without making her look the villain, thereby keeping a good reference intact.

  She pulled her phone from her purse and sent a text to the number in the paper. It wasn’t as if she was going to raise the child herself, surrogacy means she just carries it and births it. Who knows, she would probably be doing a favor for some poor woman who couldn’t carry to term.

  Her phone buzzed on the table as a text came in. Valemon wanted to meet up as soon as possible to discuss the arrangement. I guess he wanted to get her before she could back out of the impulsive decision, or something. He probably had more than a few replies from desperate women needing a somewhat easy buck, so he likely had a pretty rigorous screening process. She set a time for later that afternoon to meet the guy and kept sipping her coffee. She googled the laws for surrogacy in Norway to get up to speed on how difficult it would be to sign over the child. She didn’t know if it would be a donor egg, or her own. She didn’t care at this point, the pay from this surrogacy and the pay from National Geographic would make her life comfortable until her citizenship became finalized. Then she could get a staff job at one of the many magazines or newspapers in Norway.

  Rachel got up and ordered another coffee. She really had nowhere else to be for the few hours before her meeting with the man, so she settled in at the small cafe and pulled out a book to read. At least the place had some good coffee.

  As she sat at the table, customers came and went, most of whom were unremarkable. After an hour or so, a man so tall that he had to duck to enter the doorframe arrived at the cafe. His silver shoulder length hair was tied at the nape of his neck, his closely cropped beard matched his hair perfectly, yet his face was unlined despite his apparent age. His broad shoulders were covered by a custom-made white dress shirt. His waist was somewhat thick, but not round with a beer belly, just thick and obviously muscular. The man looked like a human mountain, for lack of a better term. He looked around the cafe with his piercing blue eyes. His square jaw clenched with a hint of nervousness, as if he wasn’t comfortable being around people, no matter how small a crowd.

  The large man walked up to the barista and placed his order. After receiving his coffee and adding the cream and sugar to it, he walked up to Rachel’s table. “Are you Rachel Jenner?” he asked. His voice was deep and soft. It sounded like the soft rumble of thunder in the distance. The quality shook Rachel to the core.

  She nervously shifted in her seat and shyly looked down. “Yes I am, who might you be and how did you know my name?”

  “My name is Valemon Bjornson, and we have an appointment in a few hours, but I was in the area and thought I would stop by and we could meet here. It would be less...weird,” he said with a warm smile.

  Rachel nodded in agreement as she took a sip of her coffee. “Yeah, I feel more comfortable meeting a strange guy in a public place, to be honest. So where’s your wife?” she asked.

  “She died a long time ago,” the man said sadly.

  “So umm, why do you want a baby on your own? That’s kind of weird, isn’t it?”

  “It is, if you look at it that way. To be honest, I have no living family, but I have substantial holdings and I need someone to inherit them. I really do not wish for it to go into probate after I a
m gone. Norway has taken quite a bit from me over the years; I’ll be damned if my ancient family home gets turned into a tourist trap for wannabe Vikings and neo-Nazis.”

  Rachel looked at the man more intently. He seemed quite young despite the silver hair and beard. The man held the small cup of coffee awkwardly in his giant hands. He seemed like a gentle giant to Rachel. He was clearly nervous being here, and he obviously didn’t like how people were looking at him.

  “So you need me to carry your baby so you can make sure your house stays away from the state?”

  “Pretty much. Don’t worry; I’ll be a great parent. I mean, I’ll have a nanny and the child will get all the love and attention it could possibly need, if that’s what’s concerning you.”

  “Yeah, it kinda did, to be honest. Look, I’m healthy, I’ve got no STDs, and I’m not attached to anyone. Right now, I have National Geographic breathing down my neck to go back to an island I found to do a more in-depth story, but after what I went through there, I don’t really want to go back right now. I figure a pregnancy would be a convenient excuse.”

  Valemon nodded. “Well, I don’t see why not, then. You seem more genuine than most of the women I’ve interviewed. You say you’re STD free, how do you know this for sure?”

  Rachel blushed a bright red and fidgeted with her hands. “Well, I’m a virgin,” she replied softly.

  Valemon’s eyes widened. “How old are you? Might I ask? If it’s rude, please forgive me.”

  “I’m thirty. Just never bothered with the whole relationship thing. I was always focused on my career. I managed to get out of college unscathed, too. I guess when you’re built like an Amazon, guys know you can kick their ass and it’s not worth to it to try, I never was into the party scene either.”

  He nodded. “Makes sense. I’ll have my lawyer draw up the contract later today. We can meet here tomorrow and you can sign it? There’s only one real condition, and that is you need to stay with me for the duration of the pregnancy. I’ll be attentive and take you to all the appointments you need to go to. I just want to make sure the pregnancy stays healthy.”

  Rachel swallowed hard. “Well, I guess. Pregnancy can have sudden complications after all, and having someone who knows the local language would be great if I need to go to the hospital in a pinch.”

  Valemon sighed in relief. She was taking it better than he thought she would. She was a very attractive woman. He did well in finding her. He stood up and reached out his hand. “I’m off to my lawyers now. It was a pleasure meeting you, and I hope that you enjoy the duration of your contract with me.”

  Rachel reached out and took his huge hand in an attempt to shake it and felt a shock of desire jolt through her as the flesh of their palms made contact. Her eyes widened as she looked up at the massive man. “Yeah, I hope so, too. I think I will,” she stammered out.

  A smile brightened up the large man’s face as he realized what she was feeling. “I’ll see you here tomorrow, same time.” He smiled as he exited the establishment.

  Rachel sank back down on her chair, shaking like a leaf. She secretly hoped that it wasn’t through artificial means that she’d get pregnant. The man was everything she had hoped for her first time -- quiet, kind, and handsome as fuck.

  She finished her coffee, grabbed her crutches and hobbled back to her flat. She felt the beginnings of some early cramps signifying the start of her period. No time like the present to keep track of things, she thought to herself. At least that way, she’d know when to schedule things.

  *

  Rachel packed up the items in her flat as she prepared to move to Valemon’s manor in the countryside. She figured she would be living there for the better part of a year, so she might as well bring her meager belongings with her. She hobbled around on her plastic boot while carrying a cardboard box full of her earthly possessions. A few mementos from her parents who had died in a car crash when she was a teen, some trinkets from meaningful times in her life, and an old Polaroid camera she refused to part with. It was her first ever camera. Her father gave it to her for her fifth birthday. She smiled fondly at the memories. Even though the film was dreadfully expensive at the time, her parents made sure she always had a full cartridge ready to go.

  In another box, carried by Valemon, were countless old photo albums, filled with all her early photographic pursuits. He put it down and took the box from Rachel’s arms. “You need to stop doing things,” he growled. “You’re still healing from whatever happened to you, and I don’t want you incapacitated any more than you already are.”

  Rachel sighed and rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay, I’ll just pack and you can lug, then. Really, I’m not totally handicapped, you know.”

  “I know that, but I don’t want you falling down the stairs.” He ducked through the doorway with an armload of boxes. The giant man was capable of carrying at least two boxes at a time, doing the work for both of them.

  Rachel sat down on the metal and vinyl chair that came with her furnished flat. She was silently grateful for Valemon’s help in moving her effects. Honestly, all the activity was hurting her ankle and she was about to take another ibuprofen to ease the dull throb.

  He entered the flat once again and gave her a shy smile as he scooped up the remaining boxes in his enormous arms. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was attracted to this tall, beautiful woman. He wanted to keep it businesslike, but the more he spent time with her, the less likely that was going to happen. He even called to cancel the appointment at the fertility clinic earlier that day, opting to do things the old-fashioned way; it would be more fun at least, for both of them. The artificial process, he found, was too cold and clinical and might put the woman off, if that was her first-ever experience.

  He packed the remaining few boxes in his SUV and closed the back. He then turned to go back into the flat and saw Rachel standing there on her crutches, camera bag draped across one shoulder and a messenger style purse slung across her back. “Well, I just turned in the keys. I’m all ready to go,” she said sadly.

  Valemon put a large hand on her shoulder and helped her into his vehicle. He sensed a bit of reluctance from her as she hopped up into the passenger seat. “Are you really okay with this?” he asked, concern showing in his ice blue eyes. “I understand you hardly know me, and...”

  “It’s fine. Really. You figure, people have been doing it this way for centuries, right? Like not a whole surrogacy thing, but...”

  Valemon smiled. “I get it. Look, after you have the baby, you’ll be free to go on your way. I just want to keep a close eye on you, that’s all. I am rather sizable and I don’t want any complications endangering you or the baby.”

  Rachel nodded and looked out the window in silence. She wasn’t sure why she felt she had to do this. There was a mysterious draw to this giant stranger that she couldn’t put her finger on. He was very attractive, but that wasn’t it. She wasn’t the type to just jump into bed with the first hot guy to wiggle his finger at her, but Valemon intrigued her. He was rich, solitary, and apparently has a very deep family line. She looked a little more in depth into his family while waiting for the lawyer to finalize the surrogacy arrangements.

  Apparently, Valemon’s family could be traced back to when the Vikings first started their civilization. His was one of the oldest and most traceable family tree in the whole of Norway, next to the King of Norway himself. The history behind him would be fascinating. She wanted to learn more about him based on this alone. What mysteries could she pull out of this “Son of the Bear.”

  “You know, I’ll let you decide how you want to go about this,” Valemon said as he drove through the streets of Trondheim. “You have two avenues, at least. We could do it at the clinic, or we could...” he trailed off, not wanting to freak her out any more than he thought he had.

  “Well, let’s wait and see how well we mesh before we set a method in stone. I still need to track my cycles for a month or two so we can get the timings right.” She evaded t
he obvious implication. It wasn’t as if she viewed her virginity as some sort of trophy that she had to hang on to, it was just that the whole experience of sex was alien to her and she was, to be honest, a little bit frightened of the prospect, especially with him. “Like, I dunno, you are a rather big guy and all...”

  Valemon shifted nervously in his seat. “You’re worried I’ll hurt you.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yeah, I guess, never even bothered with tampons,” she lamely countered. “Like, I’m not one of those super virtuous people you’ve heard about, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just never bothered, that’s all. I chose my education and career over the whole dating scene.”

  Valemon sighed. “You have no need to get defensive with me,” he rumbled. “I find it admirable that you were able to keep your goals in sharp focus despite the obvious attention you probably had.”

  “Thanks,” Rachel replied as she stared out the window. They were leaving the city and entering the countryside. Sparse rocky moors sped by as they drove down the twisting road outside of Trondheim. She really didn’t want to talk much at the moment. Her ankle was beginning to throb and itch and she was cramping up from her time of the month. Valemon picked up on her reluctance to chitchat and continued the scenic drive in silence.

  The couple drove for a good forty-five minutes through the picturesque countryside. Even though the Norwegian coastline was mostly covered in low scrub, there was an abundance of wildlife. Arctic hares, turning brown to get ready for spring, darted across the scrub as a falcon circled overhead.

  Valemon turned off the main road onto a smaller thoroughfare that had small conifers lining it. “It’s just up this lane,” his quiet voice rumbled.