Bear Necessities (Bad Boy Alphas): A Post-Apocalyptic Bear Shifter Romance (31 page)

“Afraid not.” The man chuckled. “You’ll have to tolerate something a little more man-powered.”

“What are you—” Ivy let out a little cry as he moved toward her again, reaching to scoop her up, and she would have fallen again if he hadn’t caught her. “Doing?”

“I’m obviously going to have to carry you,” he explained, a steadying arm around her shoulders.

“Oh no… no way,” she protested, feeling a flush flooding her cheeks as she tried to twist away, but that wasn’t easy on one foot. Her mobility was considerably limited. “Besides, I’m too heavy. You can’t…”

“Are you kidding me?” The stranger laughed, a sudden, booming sound, like thunder, putting an arm under her knees and lifting her as if she weighed nothing. Ivy felt all the air whoosh from her lungs and she put her arms around his neck just to stabilize herself—that’s what she told herself as he looked down at her, now suddenly, incredibly close. She could see flecks of gold in his blue eyes, the way the hair of his beard curled toward the full curve of his mouth. The press of his body was both hard and warm, and his arms didn’t seem to be straining under her weight.

“It’s a long way,” she told him, squinting at the broken window. “A mile at least. Do you have a wagon? Or we could make a litter out of something. You can’t possibly carry me the whole—”

“You’re not heavy,” he assured her, a fact Ivy knew was impossible and completely untrue. She’d started the apocalypse with plenty of extra padding, and given her father’s forethought and food stores and her penchant for baking, she’d maintained most of it. “Although the butt of that damned rifle’s digging into my side. You can get on my back instead, if you want.”

She blinked at him and bit her lip. Climb on this man’s back? Was he serious?

“This isn’t going to work,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “Maybe I should just—”

Ivy gasped when he lifted her easily, maneuvering so she was sitting on top of the bureau. They were face-to-face now, eye-to-eye. He smiled at her again, but she wasn’t reassured by it.

“I’m going to turn around,” he told her, explaining slowly. “And you’re going to get on my back. Okay?”

“This is so not okay,” she said, scowling. “In no way, on any planet in the solar system, is this okay.”

“What would you propose, then?” he asked, hands on either side of her on the dresser. “Unless you can sprout wings and fly home, I think we’ve narrowed the options to this.”

“Oh fine.” She grumbled, trying to reach her back pack. “We’re going to need a flash light anyway. It’ll be dark soon.”

“Which pocket?” he asked, reaching toward her backpack.

“Left side,” she said, turning to watch him unzip the side pocket. She had a small flashlight in there. He handed it over, zipping the pocket again as she tested it, grateful the batteries were still working.

“You ready?” he asked, cocking his head at her.

“Whenever you are.” She sighed as he turned around, reaching back with both hands over his shoulders.

“Hop on,” he said, taking her hands as she hesitantly offered them. “Wrap your legs around my waist.”

“This is crazy.” Ivy adjusted the rifle over her shoulder, squeezing his sides between her thighs. It was like straddling a rock. He was that solid. “There’s no way you can carry—”

Caleb snorted another laugh, hefting her onto his back in one smooth movement, hooking his forearms around her thighs as he headed down the hall toward the front door. It was strange, being carried like a six-year-old, and Ivy marveled at how easily he managed it. Her injured ankle throbbed with every movement and she knew she never would have made it home on her own.

“Hey, we need to watch out for the bear,” she told him, her gaze moving in the direction of the forest, and home, where the sky was ominously dark with storm clouds. “He may still be out here.”

“You’ve got the rifle, shortcake,” he reminded her with a chuckle. “You watch for the bear. Which way?”

She directed him with the beam of her flashlight into the forest, where it was even darker, just as the rain began to come down.

Her scent was intoxicating.

The woman on his back made Caleb’s nostrils flare and his mouth water.

“How do I know you’re not going to rape me—or eat me?”

That’s what she’d asked him, and he remembered making some off-the-cuff comment to placate her, because he didn’t want her to have any idea how much self-control it took to keep him from taking exactly what he wanted from her. He knew she was frightened—and he couldn’t blame her. A woman, alone, out here in the middle of the woods? It was a dangerous recipe for disaster.

She acted like she could take care of herself, and maybe she could. She’d brought a rifle with her, after all, and when she’d been faced with a full-grown bear, she’d managed to raise it.

But she hadn’t shot him, had she?

Because she felt it, too.

He pondered this as he made his way through the woods, the weight of the woman on his back like a blanket of heat. She wiggled and squirmed, her soft, supple thighs squeezing his sides, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Her breath was warm, driving away the cold pelt of the rain, and the soft press of her breasts made his groin ache and throb. She was the weight of distraction.

Sweet, damnable distraction.

Had she really felt it, too? He wondered. When he’d risen up on his hind legs, scenting her—she was far sweeter than the strawberries he’d been eating, and more luscious. The sight of her through his bear’s eyes was like pure fire. She glowed in the late afternoon light, her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders like a chocolate waterfall, her mouth stained red from berries, full and open and surprised to see him.

He’d almost forgotten, in that moment, what form he was in. He’d even begun to speak, which just came as a low growl, reminding him that he was a bear. He couldn’t shift in front of her—that would frighten her even more than the six-hundred-and-fifty pound mass of muscle and fur rising up on its hind legs in front of her. He hadn’t been thinking, though. Thought was the last thing from his mind in that moment.

He’d been consumed, from the moment the wind shifted and he first caught her scent, with having her. The lush curve of her hips in those jeans, the way her breasts rose and fell, faster and faster under that white t-shirt now stained red with berry juice as she struggled to unsling her rifle. He hadn’t even registered the danger she posed—a human with a gun—until she pointed the barrel at him.

But she hadn’t pulled the trigger, had she?

He’d felt a momentary flash of anger—how dare she raise a gun at him? His instinct was to charge her, bat the gun out of her hands. But that feeling had come and gone in an instant. He saw the fear on her face—but he also saw her curiosity and her confusion as she hesitated, her dark eyes searching his. She was looking for something, he thought. She
sensed
something in him. Had he really seen recognition in her eyes?

It was impossible—but he felt the truth of it tightening his chest as she faced him. And when she spoke her soft, sweet apology, presumably before she pulled the trigger to end him, he could almost feel the pain and loss radiating from her. She might have ended his long search in that moment, and he wasn’t so sure it wouldn’t have been a relief. He was tired of traveling, of hiding and always being on-guard.

But in the end, she hadn’t shot him.

Instead, she’d turned tail and run.

And he had pursued her.

He hadn’t even understood it himself—had never found his own instincts beyond his control before. The woman had lit a fire in him, and the moment she took off, he found himself helpless to stop the chase. He knew he was frightening her in his bear form, although he wasn’t so sure he would frighten her any less in human form. He saw her glance back, saw the moment she twisted her ankle, and her cry of pain pierced through him like nothing he’d ever experienced before.

When he’d explored her calf and shin with his hands, searching for anything broken, he cursed himself for chasing her, for causing her any pain. She had put on a brave face, trying valiantly to walk through her injury, but she was holding back tears. What a fool he’d been, giving in to that sudden urge to give chase.

What had come over him?

“Right there!” She spoke loudly over the storm, but her lips were right next to his ear, the sound of her voice bright, searing through him. He stopped at the edge of the forest, her flashlight pointing the way through the clearing. A small house stood in the distance, the light in one window like a yellow painted square on the night. The yard was a gardener’s paradise in the moonlight, raised boxes clearly cultivated with love and care.

“I didn’t leave any lights on to conserve power from the generator, but… oh… wait… what?” The woman peeked over his shoulder and he felt her thighs tighten around him. “I know I didn’t leave a light on… I…”

“Shh!” The rain dampened Caleb’s sense of smell just slightly. He could scent the chickens and the rabbits not far away in a small shed. He heard the lowing of an uneasy cow in the same direction. But it was the house that drew his attention. The house with the light on.

“Someone broke into the house!” Her voice was just a whisper, full of fear and dread.

“They’re gone.” Caleb was sure of it. He could smell their scent, but it was faint. Faded. They’d been here, but they weren’t anymore. Still, they could be nearby. Watching. He thought that was likely.

He knew they were looking for him.

“Let me down.” She wriggled and squirmed so much he had to let her go. He heard her cry out when she landed on her swollen ankle and he grabbed hold of her elbow.

“Easy,” he urged, scanning the edges of the clearing with eyes that saw much better at night than any human. “They could still be nearby.”

“What am I going to do?” she breathed, and he felt her tremble. They were both soaked to the skin—the rain hadn’t let up since it started—and he knew she was cold. But now she was shaking from fear.

“We can go back to my cabin.” He thought that was the safest thing. “Come back in the morning and reassess.”

“All the way back?” she scoffed, leaning against the trunk of a tree, clearly easing the weight on her hurt ankle. “You want me to stay the night in that shack? No way. I’ll take my chances.”

She unslung the rifle and took a step, limping on her bad leg. He heard her sharp intake of breath when she put weight on it. 

“It’s too dangerous.” He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. “I can’t let you go.”

“Let me?” She snorted, shaking his hand off. “This is my house.
My
home. Thanks for bringing me back but… I can take it from here.”

Caleb sighed, watching her hobble off. He contemplated turning around and walking away. He told himself this woman was trouble—she was headstrong and foolish. And a distraction from his mission. He watched her stumble, heard her cry out, but she kept on going toward the house.

He was sure they were gone now—but they’d probably be back. Looking for him, stocking up on her supplies. And if they found her there? Could he live with what he knew would happen to her next?

His gut twisted at the thought, his head buzzing, images burning in his mind that made him want to shift into bear form right then and there. They wouldn’t just violate her. That would be bad enough. The men following him had much darker designs. He couldn’t leave her, not now. Not until he knew she was safe.

Of course, the irony was that this was all his fault. If he hadn’t chased her when she ran, she never would have been injured in the first place. She would have finished picking her berries and walked back home unharmed.

And they still would have been in her house,
he realized with a sinking, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he stared at the moon-wet grass at his feet.

Because of him.

Looking for him.

“No!”

Caleb’s head snapped up when he heard her scream. She’d made it to the house—her curvy silhouette stood frozen, framed in the open doorway.

“Noooooooooo!”

She collapsed, and Caleb went running after her.