Primal (Monsters and Beauties #3) Read Online Jenika Snow

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Novella, Paranormal Tags Authors: Series: Monsters and Beauties Series by Jenika Snow

Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)

They didn’t care who got me pregnant… just that one of them did.
The first time I saw the beasts, I’d wandered off and gotten lost. But I hadn't been alone. Not the entire time. I’d been found, just not by something that was human. Bear-beasts. They were myths whispered amongst the villagers and that parents told their children before bed to keep them inside, to make them fearful of what lurked in the dark. Seven-foot-tall creatures covered in fur, with sharp claws, fangs, and the strength of a hundred men. But the creature kept me safe and led me out of the woods. I never saw it again, but I felt it—no, I felt them —watching me. Following me. Stalking me. They waited for me all these years. Protected and provided for me, even when I hadn’t realized it. Now, I was on my own, and not one but three primal beasts had come for me. And what they wanted was To make me theirs in any way they saw fit. I was Goldie, and these were now my three bears.

Reader A Goldie Locks and the Three Bears reimagining. This is a monster romance featuring a human/nonhuman MFMM relationship and HEA.

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When I was younger, I wandered off from my parents' cottage. I got lost. I cried. I was five years old, walking the woods at night, hearing animals scurrying past me, seeing ominous creatures slinking around.

I found myself by a brook, collapsing and covering my face as I wept, knowing I’d never get home, never again feel the warmth of my bed or taste the sweet flavor of my mother’s porridge she’d give me when I first woke.

But I hadn't been alone. Not the entire time.

It had found me, this creature I only heard about whispered amongst the villagers.

The bear-beasts were myths, things parents told their children before bed to keep them inside, to make them fearful of what lurked in the dark.

Beasts, monsters… the very offspring of the devil himself.

It had found me crying out for my mother.

The creature had been so much bigger than me. It was covered in fur, his body nothing like a human’s. I knew I should have been terrified. It had paws instead of hands. Claws instead of nails.

But when it crouched in front of me, its boxy head tilted to the side, its rounded ears twitching back and forth as if it were taking in the sounds of the wilderness, I felt nothing but ease and comfort.

I knew it wouldn’t hurt me.

The beast hadn’t said a word. To this day, I didn’t know if it even spoke my language. But no words were needed as it held its paw out, waiting for me to slip my hand into it.

And I had.

It led me through the woods and back to my family’s cottage. It waited at the tree line, hidden amongst the shadows and foliage as I walked away and toward the only protection I’d ever known.

I looked back at the creature before entering, seeing its golden, glowing eyes watching me. And then it lifted that massive paw in what I knew was a farewell gesture. And before I turned back around, I saw two more sets of golden eyes, hidden but glowing amongst the shadowy forest… trained right on me.

I never saw the bear-beast again, but I felt it—them—watching me for years after.




Fifteen years later

My parents had died the year before, a horrible accident that had left me alone in every sense of the word.

It had taken the entire time since then for me to come to terms with the fact that I would probably be alone for the rest of my life—to accept it. But as the days passed, I realized I enjoyed my solitude.

Taking care of my home, the animals, and making sure things were stocked for the winter kept me busy in mind and body.

I gathered my cloak and basket, and headed out of the cottage toward the tree line. Harriet, Myrtle, and Louisa, my three chickens, gave me a welcoming “bwak” as I passed by but, after a second, went back to pecking at the ground.

Daisy, the goose, gave me a loud honk in greeting, stretched her wings, and waddled away.

This little homestead was a labor of love, and I’d forever be thankful my parents taught me from a young age how to care for and tend to it. It was hard work, and by the time the sun set, I was exhausted, barely any energy left to even enjoy supper before I cleaned up and went to bed.

The air was chilly, with the promise of fall nipping at my skin. I pulled my cloak tighter, my boots crunching over the debris on the forest floor.

I had one job to do this morning, and that was to pick the pink berries that only ripened this time of year and grew by the brook deep within the woods. The same brook that held the most incredible, if not frightening and exciting, memory I held.

The walk was long, and the higher I ascended, the chillier and thinner the air became. And the closer I got, the clearer the memory of that night the bear-beast saved me played through my mind.

I broke through the trees to a small clearing, where the brook descended the mountain into the village. The sound of the rushing water and the scent of its cleanliness washed around me. I stood there for a moment just taking in the scene.

A small animal scurried across the forest floor somewhere close. A woodpecker was going to work on a tree. I stepped closer to the babbling brook, droplets of the icy water splashing on the hem of my skirting.

The pink berry bush was on the other side of the water, and I slowly made my way across the natural bridge of flattened rocks until I reached it.

It was several minutes after I crouched and started picking the bright-pink berries off and putting them in my basket that the skin on the back of my neck prickled.