The Bear Who Loved Me (14 page)

B
ecca had never enjoyed violence. She didn't like
The Fast and the Furious
movies, only watched cute puppy videos on YouTube, and if there was blood on the TV screen, then she took those moments to check her email. Yet here she stood, rooted to her spot on the porch as two grizzly bears tried to kill each other in front of her.

When Nick had first lunged at Carl, she'd taken a step forward to help, but got no farther. Alan had gripped her arm to hold her back. And then she'd watched Carl's amazing display as he held himself in human form while the grizzly Nick attacked. It was beyond impressive. It was a demonstration of control and calm like she'd never imagined.

But then it had changed. Nick went from angry to all-out war. She couldn't have stated what the difference was. It was all fur and teeth with Nick, not to mention roaring. But, suddenly, the atmosphere seemed to thicken and the seven-foot-tall beast became deadlier. Beside her, Alan cursed under his breath and, worst of all, a look of resignation settled on Carl's face. And then he, too, became a bear.

She'd seen him in bear form before, she told herself. No need to be so shocked now. But back then she'd been in the midst of a bizarre attack in the woods at night. This was in the broad light of day out on the front porch. Carl was standing there all golden skin on a muscled torso, and then she saw his head shift. His nose elongated, his shoulders thickened. And while she watched his whole body grow, he pulled off his pants, abruptly standing as tall as a full bear.

Mahogany brown with a distinctive streak of silver gray on his back, right between his shoulder blades. He was slightly taller than Nick, who was a darker color and had thicker arms and uglier-looking claws. That's all she saw before Nick lunged and suddenly the two bears were grappling.

She felt Alan's hand tighten on her arm, holding her back. Had she seriously been trying to move forward to intervene? No one was getting between those bears.

The air filled with grunts of exertion. She saw blood fly but couldn't tell whose it was. Her brain couldn't make sense of the mass of claws and teeth, not to mention fur and limbs. The two rolled in dirt, and the onlookers backed up to give them more room. God, there were boys watching. Nick's adolescent sons, if she had to guess. And how awful would that be to stand there and watch your father fighting for his life.

Then Nick gained the upper hand, pinning Carl with his body as he hauled back an arm—claws flashing evilly in the light—to eviscerate Carl. Becca would have screamed, but she hadn't the breath. She ought to do something. Throw a chair, maybe, but Alan's grip was like iron.

And just when Nick was most extended, his arm raised like a spiked mace, Carl moved. He must have gotten his feet under Nick, because in the next second, he threw the bastard five feet away to slam into an oak.

Then Carl rolled to his feet and stood there, watching as the older grizzly shook his head as if stunned.

“Stop,” Alan rasped under his breath. “Stop it now.”

Becca looked at Carl. He wasn't moving. “He's not doing anything.”

“Not Carl,” Alan said, his voice tight with worry. “Nick. Nick has to stop and accept his banishment. He has to.”

There was something in Alan's voice that made her turn slightly. Just enough to see the man's face. “And if he doesn't?”

“Carl will have to kill him.”

Oh, shit. But Alan wasn't done.

“The last thing Carl needs is another soul on his conscience. He's already killed three ferals. This won't help him sleep at night.”

Oh, hell. That suggested all sorts of things, none of which were good. She looked to the combatants. Nick had regained his senses and looked around, his gaze landing unerringly on his children. Both boys shrank away from him until they stood protectively in front of their mother. Pam set an arm on each child.

“You shoulda fixed the platform, Nick. You were poisoning the land.” She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “You shoulda done what you were told.” Her voice quavered as she spoke, but there was a firm set to her jaw that Becca respected.

That was it for Nick. Instead of slinking away like he should, he lunged forward on a roar. But he didn't go at Carl. Instead, he went for Pam and his two sons. Becca didn't even see the move coming. One second he was leaning against the oak as he steadied himself, the next he was mid-leap right at his own family. Pam's face registered shock—eyes wide, mouth open—but there was no time for more.

And then Carl landed on Nick from the side, rolling the two of them away until they flattened into the hedge. And this time, the change was in Carl. Before he'd been grappling with Nick, defending himself but keeping the fight contained in the yard—away from the onlookers. Now he was all fight and blood.

No restraint as he clawed at Nick. The first swipe took out a huge swatch of Nick's thigh. Blood spurted over everything, but the older grizzly didn't stop. He rounded on Carl, snapping his jaws, barely missing Carl's neck.

So Carl clawed across Nick's chest, making deep furrows that welled bright red.

“Run,” growled Alan. And the one word was echoed all around.

Nick didn't listen. He kept fighting, coming at Carl again and again. But it was a hopeless battle. His leg was hobbled, and he was losing blood.

So Carl didn't waste any time.

Two more blows ended it. One thunked against Nick's head. The other sliced straight across the grizzly's throat.

Nick fell, crumpling in agonizingly slow moments. He twitched on the ground, blood pouring like a thick, dark river.

Becca stared, waiting for the moment that he reverted to human form. That's what happened in the movies, right? Werewolf turns back into a naked dead man while the credits roll? But this wasn't a movie and Nick didn't shift back. He remained a bear, lying dead at Carl's feet.

Carl was the one who shifted, shrinking back into himself until he was a man covered in blood who turned to the boys now clutched in their mother's arms.

“I'm sorry,” Carl said, his voice sounding gravelly. “I tried to find a different answer. I didn't want to kill him.”

Pam clutched her children tight, and this time her voice rang clear and strong. “And that's why you're a terrible alpha,” she said. “You shoulda killed him months ago and saved us all this trouble.”

Carl flinched as if struck, then stomped forward, his eyes blazing and his hands poised to become claws. He didn't shift, but if ever a man could look like a bear, Carl did.

“I would have done this years ago, but you begged me on your knees not to.” Then he looked around at everyone, pinning every onlooker. “Is that what you want? A bloody, violent tyrant in charge? Yes, my uncle would have killed him months ago, but he wouldn't have stopped there. He would have snapped your boys' necks, too, raped you until he tired of it, and then taken your property as his own.” He loomed over Pam. “Is that what you want?”

“N-no, Mr. Max,” she stammered. The boys just flinched and kept their eyes down in submission. Carl rolled back slightly on his heels, but he kept up the glare until Pam spoke again. “Th-thank you for your help, Mr. Max. I'm sorry if we caused you any trouble.”

Carl took a deep breath, and as he exhaled, he seemed to settle further back into himself, though Becca could see the struggle in him. She saw his muscles ripple, the hump between his shoulder blades thickening and retreating, then thickening again. He was fighting to keep himself under control, and she held her breath, waiting to see if he would manage it. Eventually, he blew out a hard breath. “You have until Friday to get that platform fixed.”

“Yes, Mr. Max.”

“And you'll pay Alan for all the legal work he did on your behalf. Every single dime, if it takes you ten years.”

Pam was bobbing her head like a puppet. “Yes, Mr. Max.”

Then Carl looked down at the terrified boys. “And you two will come to camp after school every day. Every single day I want you doing your homework right there.” He pointed across the circle to the cafeteria. “You're going to get the grades I expect out of every Gladwin member. If you want, we'll help you with college, but you have to prove to me that you're smarter than your father. Is that clear?”

Both boys scrambled to answer. “Yes, Mr. Max.”

Carl looked at Mark, who had been watching with almost casual disinterest from the side of his truck. “Can you see that they get home?”

Mark didn't even speak. He just pulled open the door of his truck and waited while Pam and her sons climbed inside. Meanwhile, Tonya stepped up beside Carl, her expression flat.

Becca did a double take. When the hell had she gotten here?

“Alan got it on video,” Tonya said. “And I was here for the last of it. There won't be any problem from the police. It'll be reported as a bear attack. I'll get animal control to deal with the body.”

Carl nodded. “Thanks.”

Tonya kept talking, her voice all business. “Let me handle this and then we've got to talk. We've gotten some of the forensics back from yesterday.”

Becca saw Carl's shoulders tighten, then slowly ease back down. “Good. That's good.”

“So why don't you go clean up? Maybe put some pants on, and I'll be inside in a minute.”

There was a moment's silence, and then Carl answered in an almost humorous tone. “Well, it is getting a bit chilly.”

Tonya smirked as she glanced significantly at his crotch. “Couldn't tell by me.”

It was that smirk that woke Becca up out of her trance. How dare the bitch make comments like that now? Becca might be new to this shifter clan stuff, but she knew hierarchy. Comments like that were inappropriate from a woman to her boss. It had to be ten times worse in a pack structure, no matter how complimentary the comment.

So Becca stomped forward, holding Carl's coffee in one hand and picking up the discarded stripper pants with the other. “I'm sure he finds your tits appealing, too, Officer, but let's try to keep things professional, shall we?” Then she offered Carl both items and waited while he decided what he wanted to do.

Well, that's what she intended to do. She held to the plan long enough to see Tonya's dark flush of embarrassment, but then she turned to face Carl and that's when things went all to hell.

She got an up-close-and-personal look at his face.

His mouth and jaw were dark with drying blood. Plus, the coppery scent was thicker here right over the body. And now that she saw the front of Carl's torso, she got too close to all that gore.

Holy shit.

She was going to be sick.

D
isgust. Horror. Nausea.

Carl saw all that and more fight for dominance on Becca's face. Her eyes widened, her mouth grew slack, and he knew the moment she fought the urge to vomit.

He hadn't been self-conscious about his physical state until that moment. Bear shifters were fairly casual about nudity, but Becca's reaction filled him with shame. All of the judgmental thoughts he kept locked down rushed forward, swamping his consciousness. He was a violent predator, unfit for civilization. He disgusted normal people, and they were right to shun him. He'd lost control again, and now he was exposed as a monster.

His jaw grew tight and his grizzly growled. He hadn't intended to make a sound. Hell, he'd thought he'd completely locked himself down. But apparently he'd made a noise. It must have been bestial because Becca's eyes shot back up to his. She was pale, and he saw her swallow convulsively.

On instinct, he reached out to steady her, but she flinched back.

Well, that answered that. Up until that moment, he hadn't realized how deeply she was embedded in his life. He hadn't consciously decided to propose to her. He hadn't faced the Gladwin shifters and declared her his mate. But he'd been thinking about it.

She'd flinched back from him. Which meant that she'd seen him for who he really was and was revolted.

He struggled for something to say, anything that would ease the moment or reassure Becca that he wasn't a monster. But he
was
a monster and his grizzly wasn't going to let him apologize for it. Neither was the alpha in him. Which left the man standing there, mute and embarrassed.

He let his hand drop away from her elbow, then awkwardly reached for his pants. But he couldn't put the damned things on over all the blood. And he sure as hell wasn't going to strut his bloodied self inside. So he turned to Tonya, who was watching the entire byplay with banked intensity. At least she understood the monster inside him.

“Mind holding the hose?” he asked as casually as he could.

Her brows arched in surprise. “It'll be cold.”

“Whatever,” he answered. He wondered if he'd even feel it. He felt totally numb inside.

“Sure,” she said as her phone buzzed and she quickly answered it.

It took him a moment to grab the hose from the garage and hook it up to a spigot beside the driveway. He was excruciatingly aware of Becca watching from just off the porch, her eyes still huge and her mouth pressed tightly closed. He wondered what she was thinking. Was it like staring at a train wreck? She just couldn't look away? Or was there something more to the way her gaze followed him whatever he did? She didn't say a word and he couldn't guess.

Meanwhile, Tonya put away her cell and grabbed the spray gun part of the hose. “So how'd you do it?” she asked.

“What?”

“Declare him legally incompetent. You did it so Pam could have everything, right? Otherwise she and the kids would be out and penniless.”

He nodded as he positioned himself at the top of the driveway. “He thought he was a bear.”

Tonya frowned. “But he is a bear. Or was.”

“The judge didn't know that. And neither did the therapist who evaluated him. And if he hadn't been such a blowhard, he would have known to shut his mouth when being videotaped.”

Tonya's laugh was the last thing he heard before icy water hit him full force. It should have cut off his breath. It should have had him cringing against the frigid cold. Instead, his gaze ended up on Becca, still standing by the porch with his coffee mug in her hand. She watched him steadily, her eyes slowly softening as her mouth lost its tight cast.

What was she thinking? What did she want?

He almost went to her. Fuck the wet and the blood, he needed to touch her right then. But he didn't get far. The very moment he took a step toward her, she flushed and turned away. He wanted to call her back, but she didn't give him a chance.

Long before he figured out what to say, she disappeared back inside the house.

Becca didn't know what to think. Worse, she didn't know what to feel. The sight of Carl covered in blood had made her physically ill. She held herself together by willpower alone, but by the time she'd been able to function, Carl's eyes had gone flat.

She knew that look. She was raising a boy, after all. It was that moment when they just turn off and you know nothing you do or say will get through. So she stood there waiting, racking her brains for something that would make it better. But before she'd found it, he'd stepped under the spray of water. It was spring in Michigan, which put the temperature at a few notches above freezing. He hadn't even flinched when the stream caught him. He'd just stood there taking the punishment while all that blood washed away.

Never before had she seen anything more beautiful. A man covered in gore, slowly cleansed in the sunshine. Inch by glorious inch,  his body had emerged, flexing golden in the light, his muscles rippling with power. She knew every curve and hollow of that body, had kissed every part of him last night. She had lain underneath, felt him strain above her, and had climaxed around him. This beautiful man had worshiped her last night, and she had reveled in it. In him.

That was the man who was revealed to her beneath the spray. That was the man who looked at her with such yearning that she had felt herself go wet and achy. Her nipples had tightened and her belly had contracted just from the way he looked at her.

But they were in public and he'd just killed a man in front of her. Hell, the grizzly body lay just a few feet away. And yet she'd wanted to strip naked and step under the water with him. She'd wanted to feel the cold sluice down her while his body warmed her. And if he had bent her over and taken her right there on the front lawn, she would have loved it.

She was that aroused.

Which was insane.

So she'd run inside rather than give in to such an immodest display. She rushed inside and headed for the kitchen without any thought of what she was going to do or say. She couldn't even figure out what she was feeling. Lust? Certainly. Disgust? Maybe. But not at him. She was appalled by herself for wanting someone who was so violent it terrified her. She was a civilized woman, and now she saw him as a primal man in all his brutal glory. She wanted him even as she was repulsed by the violence of him.

She could have reconciled the two if this were a simple attraction. Who didn't love a hot, dangerous man? But the real problem was the power of her desire. This wasn't a lukewarm interest. Or even a fascinating diversion. No, this was hunger—deep and raw. This was desire without inhibition. This was a need that went beyond anything she'd ever felt before and it terrified her.

She'd never be able to control a passion like this. She couldn't imagine fitting it into her regular life. This was something that would consume everything around it. Her life, her nephew, herself. She could lose herself in a man like Carl. And as a single parent, she had no business losing herself in anything except Theo.

“Are you okay?”

She looked up from the kitchen sink to see Alan standing in the door, his expression wary.

She swallowed and cleared her throat. “Um, yeah. I'm fine.”

He took a step into the room. “Forgive me, but you don't look fine. You look scared.”

“Do I?”
Get it together!

Alan was quiet as he poured himself another mug of coffee, but then he leaned against the counter to study her with a quiet intensity.

“He'd never hurt you.”

That was something she felt to her bones. “I know.”

“It's natural to be freaked out. I grew up here, and challenges like that still bother me.”

“The violence?”

He nodded. “It's pretty raw.”

He understood. She flashed him a weak smile. “It's primal, and I'm not used to that.”

“No one is. Not even them.”

That was reassuring in a twisted kind of way. So she took a breath and reached for the coffeepot to refill her own mug. Except the carafe was almost empty.

“I'll make some more,” Alan offered, but she stopped him.

“Please, let me get it. I think I need to be useful.”

He started to argue with her, but something in her face must have changed his mind, because he backed off. He pointed to the cabinet right above her head. “Everything you need is in there.”

“Thanks,” she said. And then she went about the business of making coffee. It was a simple task that gave her hands something to do. Which allowed her fears to ease their grip enough for her to talk a little more rationally. “So when you shift, how exactly does that feel? Do you think? Can you control yourself? I mean, could you be a bear and drive a car?”

He snorted at that image, and she flashed him an awkward smile. “I'm sorry to be so ignorant.”

“It's not ignorance. They're reasonable questions, but you're asking the wrong person.”

She finished pouring the water into the coffeemaker and switched it on. “What do you mean?”

“I don't shift.”

She looked up, startled. “What?”

“It's a genetic lottery. Shifters have human and animal DNA. Too much animal, and they shift young and often go full beast by adolescence. It's the hormones. When they kick in, the beast can be too much to control. Or in my case, I seem to have only the human side. I've never shifted.” He shrugged. “I'm not even all that hairy.”

“Oh.”
Jeez, what a stupid response.
But she didn't know what to say. Congratulations, you're not half beast? I'm so sorry you can't kill people with your claws? Did shifters like running wild in the woods and digging honey out of beehives? Or did they want to hang out with a girl at prom and not worry that they'd start sprouting fur if things got too intense?

“You should ask Carl.”

She nodded. She should, but her emotions were too close to the surface to even consider that yet. She felt too exposed and too wild around him to broach the topic. Then, as if the thought summoned the man, the front door opened and Carl came in.

He was wearing the tearaway pants and nothing else. His hair was dripping wet and slicked down against his body. She looked up at him as he entered, and the lust slammed against her hot and hard. She drank in every sculpted muscle, every lithe movement of his body, but she didn't leave the kitchen. If she did, nothing would stop her from jumping him in the bedroom. And from there, it was the tiniest step to giving him everything.

Carl didn't stop as he came into the room. He saw her, of course. And there might have been a slight hitch in his stride but no more as he headed straight for the bedroom.

Ouch. Even though she knew she was the cause, the awkwardness between them hurt. But she couldn't think of a way through it. Not until she felt more settled. And more capable of controlling herself when she was around him.

Meanwhile, Alan spoke, his voice low. “You need to talk to him, Becca. If you two are going to make a go of this, you have to love the bear as much as the man.”

She jolted at the word “love.” It wasn't that she hadn't flirted with the idea. Hell, she'd been fighting tooth and nail to
not
think the word. “We just met,” she said. “We… He and I…” Hell, she couldn't get the words out. “It's a no-strings-attached kind of thing.”

“Is that what he told you?”

She jerked her gaze back to Alan. She'd been staring at the closed bedroom door, but suddenly she was staring at Alan with her chest so tight she could barely breathe. “What do you mean?”

For the first time this morning, Alan looked chagrined and he rapidly started backing out of both the conversation and the room. But she couldn't let him go. She grabbed his arm and held firm. He could have escaped, of course. She wasn't that strong. But he didn't push the point as she held tight.

“Talk to me, Alan. I need to understand.”

He huffed out a breath. “The very first night, he put you in his bedroom, Becca. His
den
. He hasn't done that with anyone before.”

She shook her head. The last thing she needed was to realize that Carl was feeling as intensely about her as she was about him. That made it a scorched earth kind of relationship: wild, passionate, and completely destructive of the world around them. She knew. She'd seen her sister go through them often enough. By all accounts that's how Theo had been conceived. Maybe that's how all shifter relationships went.

“We just met,” she said, denying everything he'd said in three words.

“Maybe you feel like you just met. He's been watching Theo from the very beginning. That's his job as Max—to keep an eye on potential new shifters.”

“But that's Theo, not me.”

Alan held up his hand, freeing his arm and silencing her in one motion. “He's been aware of you, Becca. And if what I saw this morning means anything, he's fully invested in you. Carl doesn't do things halfway.”

No, no, no! It was too fast! But Alan didn't stop.

“You have complete control here. You can say yes or no. He won't force you in any way. But don't imagine for a second that he's just being casual with you.”

She leaned against the counter and closed her eyes. Her hands were wrapped around her empty coffee mug as if it were a grounding wire to reality. It wasn't. Which left her reeling from too much too fast. Hell, Theo was missing. Shouldn't she put all her attention on finding him? On getting him home safely?

But what more could she do there except wait? And while waiting, all these other things had happened with Carl. She didn't know how to cope. And then she felt a hand, large and gentle, on her arm. Her eyes shot open to see Alan looking at her with sympathy. His expression was kind, but his words were anything but.

“I know this is a lot, Becca. And I don't want to pile more on, but you have to make a decision. Because I'll be damned if I let you hurt my brother.”