What a Bear Needs (The Wild Side) (21 page)

“Then explain it to me because I don’t understand.”

The shaman lifted her hands as if presenting something grand. “There is no word for what you are.”

Cree jerked. “You don’t know
what I am?” She looked to Maddox. “She doesn’t know what I am.”

“I know what you are, girl,” Nasnaana corrected. “There’s simply no word for it. I can only relay what I’m shown.”

“Oh sweet God.”

“It can’t be described with one simple term.”

At the look Cree shot her, the old woman sat back. “Okay, we’ll call you
transcendent.”

“Are you telling me I’m a god?”

Nasnaana chuckled. “No, child. You’re not a god. You’re not a shaman, pack, pride, clan or sleuth. You’re not simply a skin-walker. You just…are. Your gifts are limitless and if you allowed yourself, the things you could learn about this life would be unfathomable.”

“What does that
mean?”

“It means you’re more, Cree.”

“More than what?”

“This,” Nasnaana answered gesturing about.

Maddox watched Cree’s head drop forward. “Am I omnipresent? Are you saying I’m omnipresent?”

If Nasnaana kept laughing, it couldn’t end well for any of them. “You’re not omnipresent,” she repeated. “Although you exist in the same realm with those who are. You won’t live forever, although everything you do will have a rippling effect on this world. Your life is meant to change others.”

“How?”

“By accepting the things that frighten you and killing the things that stand in your path defiantly. My dear girl, you are no one’s burden or freak but the very definition of what we’ve built our faith on. You’re the illustration of what the Great Spirit created. You show that more than one being can co-exist peacefully. You show that memories can be beautiful paintings that outstand the length of time, reshaping one’s perspective on their journey. Your empathy is the engraving of souls. Cree, your continuation will revive beliefs that are long dead in others.”

Cree nodded slightly and looked to Maddox again—who couldn’t form the words to tell her that he believed every single thing that had just spilled from her grandmother’s mouth. “She’s crazy. Let’s go.”

Maddox caught her before she could make it to the door and placed her back in her seat, dropping his giant bear ass in her lap to hold her there. Ignoring her screeches, he proceeded to lean forward and continue a conversation with Nasnaana.

“I try to get her to see what I do but when she’s determined not to its frustrating,” he said.

“She’s head strong like Nuna. Never wants to believe in something unless she can physically touch it,” Nasnaana retorted.

“I’m sitting
right
here,” Cree snarled.

“Tell me,” the shaman said. “How often do the two of you do that thing you did this morning in the shower?”

“
Oh for fuck’s sake!”

Maddox drew in a breath and Cree kicked around. “I swear to God that if you answer that, I will kill you! Do you hear me? There will be death!”

He sighed. “As you can see, clearly not enough.”

“Ah, may I ask you another question?” Nasaana went on despite Cree’s bellows.

“Be my guest.”

“How much do you weigh?”

Maddox sat back a bit and told her.

“Mm-hmm. More like Mingan than I thought.”

“Mingan?” Maddox questioned.

“Fifth husband,” Cree answered along with Nasnaana.

“The child forgets I was young once and I know what passion is.”

“Kill the visual, Jesus!” Cree cried.

Maddox’s shoulder began to shake. “I think I may love you a little. Can I call you Nana?”

Cree growled. “You’re an idiot.”

“And apparently you’re the second coming so I would say we’re even here.”

She grew deadly silent after that and he knew he’d be feeling his words at some point later tonight. Nasnaana then invited the pair to stay for dinner and ignoring Cree’s swift denial, Maddox accepted. She tried to remain aloof up until Nasnaana began to speak about her childhood and then he watched Cree’s change in demeanor. At the mention of her parents, she started to speak animatedly and from the wink Nasnaana gave him across the table, he knew she’d done it purposely. The conversation soon shifted to their relationship and the shaman explained that nothing about their mating would be average.

“I’m sorry,” Maddox said, looking up from the plate of food Nasnaana had placed before him just minutes ago. “Could you repeat that? Because it sounded like you said you want us to get high on hallucinogens and have sex in the woods.” He tapped the table top with his fingers as Cree elbowed him in the side. “And I know of several parties that happen yearly in Vegas which more or less encourage that behavior.”

As she’d done with most things he’d said in the last few hours that he and Cree had been in her home, Nasnaana laughed. It was always full bodied and lively, as if she were enjoying every second of amusement. “Silly boy,” she admonished with a grin. “I’m asking you to take a peyote walk together.”

“But,”—he pointed his fork in her direction—“you also mentioned a
physical connection.”

She conceded with a nod. “Sexual intimacy crosses bounds that nothing else can between two individuals. It’s the one time everything is open, unencumbered and refrains from becoming weighed down. Your partner sees every expression, hears every sigh if they care enough to do so. They witness the unfolding of what makes your spirits kindred and should they be wise enough, they grasp that and never let it go.” Her eyes were knowing. “Here in the corporeal, you’ve achieved this, you’ve grounded her but it needs to occur metaphysically also. Maddox, you’re Cree’s lighthouse. You guide her wayward spirit back to where it belongs, you’re the keeper of her deepest fears and regrets and no one—absolutely no one
—
will ever know her better aside from her creator. The peyote walk isn’t simply about soul searching, it’s about soul
binding.”

The heft of her words made him sit back. His eyes slid to Cree who’d been silent this entire time and he knew then what Nasnaana had said was right. He
was
her lighthouse and nothing in him could turn away from that. He needed her just as she needed him. Maddox’s life had been spent looking after himself, periodically helping others without wanting anything in return but this time, he was able to be a bit selfish and gain what couldn’t be replaced—
her
. On some level, he understood that he would never lose Cree regardless but to know that this, whatever it was, would be inescapable gave him a sense of comfort that he’d only achieved when she told him she loved him.

“It’s entirely up to you,” he said, putting the choice in Cree’s palms.

She grasped his hand, interlocking their fingers. A smile teased her lips. “Sure Maddox. I’ll get high with you and have sex in the woods.”

His brows rose slightly. “I haven’t heard those words since college and I have to say, I’m now feeling a bit nostalgic.” He stared off. “Although, I
do
hope I don’t wake up naked wearing a G-string and ankle boots again. That won’t be comfortable for any of us.”

“Oh, baby,” Cree replied lovingly. “It’s not comfortable for any of us
now.”

He laughed against her temple as she leaned into his side.

When Maddox looked up, Nasnaana was watching them with an expression that was partly amused, partly maternal. Cree had been wrong. There
was
something for her here aside from knowledge; there was family. Nasnaana gestured to the door with a dip of her head and he nodded, excusing himself from the table.

It led him to a beautifully designed garden. Maddox stood there for a moment and took in the night’s air, determined that whatever happened from this point on, Cree would never doubt her choice of him as a mate.

He’d witnessed for himself what it felt like to be an outsider amongst the rest, stared at but never spoken to. She’d endured the treatment for the majority of her life and somehow managed to still become a valued member of her pack with little to no mistrust of the ones around her. She feared for their
safety more than she feared for her own. Nasnaana had been right, she
was
more than this; she was so much more. They’d joked but he understood the severity of what was about to take place.

“There’s something you should know. Something you should be prepared for,” the shaman told him. 

Maddox turned around at the softly spoken words.

“Cree’s transformation won’t come through a peyote walk, cub.”

He searched her gaze for a moment, seeing the resignation in it. His heart hammered a staccato rhythm that grew harder by the second. “Then what, exactly, will it come through?”

Something flashed across her eyes and was gone before she answered quietly, “Death.”

Sixteen

“Before this begins I’d like for you to absorb what I’m about to say and take it to heart,” Nasnaana expressed.

Cree looked up from the fire steadily burning and caught the old woman’s stare directed at her. “Yes?”

They’d moved to the open air of the garden. Maddox had taken an axe and went to collect logs as Nasnaana had asked, returning with his shirt tucked into his back pocket and his hair damp before he’d cleaned himself up and redressed. It had been distracting to say the least but Cree was entirely too focused on the significance of what was about to happen to appreciate his brief interlude into the world of lumberjacks. When she’d described this to Maddox a week ago, she never thought they’d be sitting here doing it now. However, she understood that Nasnaana wouldn’t have led them this far without a purpose.

Cree glanced at Maddox, who’d followed every directive without argument. His eagerness soothed her anxiety. Knowing he was ready, without the slightest hesitation, to bind his soul to hers cloaked her in security.

Without even looking in her direction, he held his hand out, somehow knowing she needed the comfort of his skin touching her own. Swallowing, she slid her palm along his and turned back to Nasnaana.

“Every breath, every blink, everything that happens from the moment you leave this land will happen for a reason.” The shaman sat in the lotus position across from Cree and Maddox. “You’ve spent the majority of your life not trusting yourself but you need to learn to do so
now
because that discernment will save you both from unnecessary agony.”

She held Cree’s stare. “You fear losing yourself to what you’ve been given but what you’ve been given fears losing
you.
Your gifts are just that, Cree—gifts. Your mother’s incapability to understand her abilities made her internalize her struggle. She became voiceless in her terror and allowed herself to be drug under. With knowledge comes control and with control comes strength. The more you know yourself, comprehend what your limitations are, the stronger you will become. There are some that would prefer that didn’t happen because to them you’re an infection rather than a legacy in the making. I’m telling you now that they’re wrong,
that you’re
wrong. You don’t have to be voiceless. You don’t have to be drug under. Because when it gets too wide, too big, you’ll have him,”—she gestured to Maddox—“you’ll
always
have him. Take advantage of that. Never doubt it. And never forget that you may belong to every single one of them, but they also belong to
you.”

She sat there for a moment, sponging every softly spoken word. When Maddox squeezed her hand gently, she closed her eyes and nodded. “Okay.”

“Just okay?” he whispered.

Her lips twitched and she angled herself to brush her mouth along his cheek.

Nasnaana drew their attention back to her and passed each warm clay mugs. “The effects will take hold immediately and both of you will fall under. Because of the link you already share, you’ll find one another without issue. Take advantage of that moment without qualms and give yourselves over to it.”

“Starting to sound more and more like those parties in Ve—”

Cree looked up at Maddox’s abrupt pause.

His eyes were narrowly focused on something outside of the garden. She tried to follow his line of sight but found herself shoved to the ground. “What—?”

“Stay down!” he barked before Cree heard a whizzing sound and then a
pop
.

When Maddox stumbled slightly, her heart sank.

He turned in her direction and a scream worked its way up her throat but was smothered under the agonized groan already pouring from a place in her that she hadn’t knew existed. Crimson disturbed the plaid pattern of his shirt over his heart as blood slid from the corner of his mouth and trickled along the side of his jaw. The jaw she’d nipped and licked hours ago. The one she’d threatened to break several times over the year. The one that she’d run her fingertips along, learning the curve of his features as he learned the curve of her mouth.

Maddox blinked, paling slightly. Before he dropped to the ground, he wheezed a bit and whispered, “Well that really fucking hurts.”

Cree could hear nothing beyond that point. Nothing beyond the echoing sound of his heart slowing until the beat was almost imperceptible. As howls rang out in the distance, announcing an oncoming attack, she stood slowly, feeling the heaviness of Nasnaana’s gaze. She allowed her knees to hit the grass a foot away from where Maddox lay dying. Her trembling hand reached forward, every bit of distance closed between her fingers and his face, causing the limb to vibrate harder.

“I don’t,”—she inhaled—“I don’t understand.” Cree looked from his ever quieting frame and towards Nasnaana. “I
don’t
understand,” she repeated.

“You will.”

She shook her head and hysteria grasped her. “They shot
him?” Cree chest racked with silent sobs. “They
shot
him?” The greatest injustice one of their kind could ever experience was being gunned down
as though they were nothing more than fair game on the Serengeti. It was a dishonorable death, worse than being killed from behind. And those responsible knew it.