by Alexis Davie
Scarlet Oak had awakened something in her, and she had no idea what it was. All Emma knew was that she was in a constant state of fear and excitement, like she was waiting for something to happen, but it never quite did.
Until that morning.
Max had not stopped hounding her since the day she had arrived, and with each reprimand he gave her, Emma’s anger increased.
He’s picking on me for no reason except that I’m his neighbor, she thought furiously. One of these days, he’s going to go too far.
His lecture that morning had appeared to be the final straw, the nail in the coffin of her metamorphosis.
Suddenly, it was as if Emma had lost all control over herself. She watched in horror as her hands transformed before her eyes, paws overtaking the spot where her fingers had been. Before she even realized what she was doing, Emma had made her way into the supply closet, willing herself not to lose control of her emotions as her body seemed determined to take on its own course.
Fur sprouted over her long frame, and she touched her face with the pads of her paws, noting that she had grown a snout. She was hallucinating. She was overtired, and this was nothing more than a bad dream. That was all it was. It was not real. This was not real…
Then Max found her hiding in the supply closet, and it was until she saw his face that Emma knew she was not in the middle of a nightmare. Something beyond her comprehension was happening, and she didn’t know how to stop it.
She continued to bound through the unfamiliar streets of Scarlet Oak, hoping to avoid contact with anyone.
Do I look like a beast? she wondered. What am I? How is this happening? The more she panicked, the more she felt her form shifting. It responds to fear. If I remain calm, everything will be fine, she told herself, praying that her theory was right.
Somehow, Emma had made it back to her apartment without anyone casting her a second glance. She tore inside her bedroom to stare at herself in the full-length mirror.
Indeed, she was half an animal. A wolf? A bear, perhaps?
Her scrutiny was interrupted by someone banging on the door to her apartment, but she ignored it, staring at her shiny blue eyes in fascination. Abruptly, her fear began to dissipate, and she grew enthralled with the round silken ears above her blonde tresses.
A bear, she realized. I am a bear.
“Don’t you answer your door?”
Emma whirled, baring her canine teeth as Max stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.
“How did you get in here?” she demanded. When he didn’t answer—instead, he just stared at her—she gnashed her teeth. “Get out!” she hissed, but she did not recognize her own voice as it manifested like a growl.
“You’re a shifter,” Max mumbled, almost to himself. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it before.” He took a step closer to her. “Are you okay?” he asked in the same soft voice he’d done back in the supply closet of the hospital.
It was the first conversation they had ever had in which Max was actually acting like a decent human being. Emma remembered how she had found him handsome the first time she had looked at him, and she forgot about the way he had acted towards her in the past. All that mattered to her was the kindness in his voice now, the gentle way he approached her.
Exhilaration like Emma had never known before filled her body as the nearness between them grew. She could smell Max’s musky scent fill her nose, and she cocked her head to the side to stare at him daringly.
“You aren’t afraid of me?” Emma whispered, her gaze challenging him.
He smiled. “No.”
She stepped toward him, her nose touching the bottom of his chin.
“Kiss me,” she heard herself say.
Max grasped her head, drawing her half-formed mouth to his, their tongues touching instantly. She shifted back to her human form as a fission of electricity sparked through Emma.
Before she could stop Max, he spun her around so that they were both facing the mirror. Max lifted her scrubs over her head, his fingers undoing her bra as he let his lips touch her shoulder. A shiver of pleasure flowed down Emma’s spine when he teased her nipple with one hand, his other slipping down the front of her pants.
Emma fell back against him, grinding her firm buttocks against his growing member. Slowly, she gyrated her hips as his fingertips did the same, rubbing against the pulsating nub between her thighs. Max kissed the small of her neck, slipping a long finger inside her, pinching at the taut flesh of her breasts, and Emma released a small moan.
Pushing her forward slightly, Max pulled down her pants, exposing her bare rear. His own scrubs made it to the floor without skipping a beat, the heat in her center rising as his finger slipped in and out of her.
“I want you to take me,” Emma moaned.
Max did not respond with words. Instead, he pushed the elastic of her thong aside, pressing his shaft between her cheeks. Emma reached out to brace herself, knowing that he was about to plunge into her hard and deep, but when she looked up, she gasped.
Max slipped inside of her, no longer the broad-shouldered man who had tormented her for the past three weeks, but a beast like her. He bared his gleaming white teeth, a stunning contrast to the dark brown fur of his face, and Emma was sure she had never been so aroused.
As he filled her, he let out a low growl, and the sound caused Emma to reach her climax as her legs buckled. She began to scream out her pleasure, biting on her lower lip, but she could not stop watching the bear ruthlessly taking her with passionate desire and bringing her to the point of breaking as she clung to the edge of the mirror. No sooner had she finished her climax than Max emitted another long, feral moan as he came inside of her.
Emma’s body was tingling from every angle, and she closed her eyes, relishing the sensation as they flowed together. When she managed to part her lids again, she was staring back into Max’s dark irises, as if the animal who had just mounted her was a figment of her imagination.
Deliberately, Max withdrew from her, continuing to hold her gaze.
“What are we?” she exhaled when she was finally able to speak. “How can this be?”
Max watched her, casually leaning back against the sink of the bathroom without speaking. Emma whirled around to look at him, her blue eyes pleading.
“Are there more like us?” she demanded. “Why is this happening?”
He sat up and cocked his head. “You’ve never shifted before?” he asked dubiously. “You’ve never seen a shifter?”
“What… like a werebear?” she whispered, and Max nodded slightly.
“Yes,” he said. Emma collapsed against him, her heart hammering in her chest.
“No… I’ve never…” she told him earnestly. “Why would this happen now?”
A wry smile crossed over Max’s face.
“I would guess it’s a combination of several things,” he replied softly.
“Like what?”
“Scarlet Oak is a special place,” he said. “It has… a few secrets.”
Suddenly, Emma remembered what Camille had told her when she had moved in—that some people in Scarlet Oak weren’t always what they seemed.
“Are you saying that people who come here become… you know… like us?” she gasped in disbelief.
“No,” Max replied slowly, laughing slightly. “You don’t just become like us. You have always been a lycanthrope.”
“But then why haven’t I ever shifted?”
Max shrugged. “Possibly because you’ve never been mad enough,” he suggested lightly.
Emma scoffed. “Are you saying you made me so mad that I transformed into a bear?” she demanded. He cupped her face and stared into her eyes.
“Because you were looking for your mate,” Max murmured, and Emma felt her skin explode into goosebumps. “You have been looking for the other part of you, someone to inspire and complete you.”
Her mind was clouded with confusion. Was Max her mate?
Emma realized that the
torturous longing she had felt in her soul was mysteriously absent for the first time since she could remember. Her eyes grew large, her mouth gaping open.
“You are my mate,” she whispered. “I have been looking for you!”
Max nodded slowly, leaning in to tenderly kiss her lips. “Yes. And I have been looking for you, too.”
She glanced up at him, biting on her lower lip.
“Does that mean you’ll let up on me at work now?” she asked slowly, and Max chortled.
“Not a chance,” he replied, embracing her. “I’ll never let up on you anywhere.”
* * *
THE END
5
Finding Her
Jessica gave him her characteristic pout, her hands on her hips as she stared at him defiantly.
“Come on, Uncle B! You promised!” she cried, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder in annoyance.
“I really would prefer not to go out,” Byron sighed. “Come on, Jessica. Let’s just order in.”
“Uncle Byron, you never go anywhere! Would it kill you to take me out for my birthday?” his niece protested. “Just this one time? I only turn twenty-one once, you know?”
A fission of guilt coursed through Byron when he heard the disappointment in her voice.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just stay in and watch a movie?” he asked hopefully, but he could see that Jessica had made up her mind.
“Why are you such a hopeless homebody, Uncle Byron?” she asked, though her tone was teasing. “Are you afraid that you might meet the love of your life if you venture outside your apartment?”
Byron glanced at her speculatively, her words sending a warning through him. There was a reason she wanted him to take her out somewhere, and it wasn’t just because she was turning twenty-one. She was up to something—her mother had surely put her up to something.
“What are you planning?” he demanded, narrowing his grey eyes. “Have you got some blind date hiding in the wings somewhere?”
“Oh, never mind!” Jessica snapped, exasperated. “It’s only my birthday, after all. Why should I have any say in where I’m going? Fine. Put on Netflix and order a crappy pizza like I’m six years old, then.”
Byron stifled a groan and smiled sheepishly.
“Okay,” he agreed miserably. “We can go out for dinner. Where do you want to go?”
Jessica’s tanned face exploded into a broad smile. “I was thinking Crafty Kitchen! They have the best tofu tacos, and I think Wednesday nights are two-for-one pitchers…”
She rambled about the menu, but Byron had already tuned her out after “tofu tacos.”
She is determined to make this as painful as possible, he thought, rising from his permanent spot on the sofa. It was almost painful to move for more reasons than one.
“I’ll drive,” Jessica told him, grinning. “At your age, I worry about your eyesight.” Byron scowled at her.
“You should respect your elders,” he retorted, and she laughed, playfully pushing his shoulder.
Jessica was his sister Lacey’s only child, and therefore, she was Byron’s only niece or nephew. They had a close relationship, despite her endless ribbing, and if it wasn’t for Jessica’s inherent desire to be social, they would likely have spent much more time together.
One night isn’t going to kill me, Byron thought, getting into the passenger seat of Jessica’s Honda Civic.
“Maybe we can go out dancing afterward!” Jessica chirped. Byron opened his mouth to protest, but he immediately saw the glint of amusement in her green eyes.
“You said it yourself,” he replied, a smile cracking over his stoic face. “I’m too old for those kinds of shenanigans.”
“Ha, ha, ha, shenanigans!” she chortled as she pulled out of the visitor parking, making a left on Broadway. They were headed into the heart of Scarlet Oak. “Don’t worry, Uncle Byron. You’re going to have fun. I can feel it,” she told him confidentially, winking at him.
Instantly, Byron was filled with the same dread he had felt earlier as he recognized the mischievous expression on her face.
Dammit! he thought, panicking. I’m walking into a set-up!
Jessica pressed her foot down on the gas, and he realized that it was too late to do anything about it. He was at the mercy of Jessica and Lacey’s matchmaking hell.
* * *
Hadley drummed the red pen against her lip, peering at the page with a furrowed brow as she tried to decipher its meaning.
Is this even in English? She glanced at the name at the top of the paper to ensure the work belonged to one of her students, and she sighed deeply. Of course. It’s Simon’s essay, she thought, cringing. How could I not have known that?
“Can I get you some more wine, miss?”
The waiter stood at her side, and Hadley looked up gratefully at him.
“Oh, God, yes,” she said. “I’m going to need it.”
The waiter grinned, pausing to look at the mound of papers before her on the table.
“Are you a teacher?” he asked, studying the work.
“I teach eighth grade English and History,” she answered, flopping back against the booth. “Although sometimes I’m not sure I’m doing my job properly.” The server smiled sympathetically.
“I’m sure you’re doing a great job,” he replied. “Some of us are slower learners than others.”
Hadley looked up at the young man and smiled.
“You seem very capable,” she said smoothly. “As are my students. Anyway, the subjects I teach are not necessarily for everyone. All of us have our strengths and weaknesses.”
He nodded and smiled appreciatively at her.
“See? I knew you were a good teacher!” he proclaimed. “My teachers didn’t have nearly your patience or understanding. Of course, I didn’t make it easy for them.”
Hadley chuckled and shrugged. “It’s what keeps us on our toes as teachers, I suppose. It’s no fun if everything is predictable, is it?” She wondered if he could tell that her life was fraught with predictability. She hoped not.
He winked again and wandered off to fill her drink order, leaving Hadley to look around the busy restaurant.
Crafty Kitchen was one of her favorite haunts, especially for grading papers. She could easily find a comfortable booth to sit in, the food was excellent, and the service was always friendly. Sometimes she wondered why they didn’t throw her out when she was monopolizing a booth on busy evenings, but she was thankful they allowed her to stay.
Although I am sure I stimulate their economy in my own way, she thought wryly, eyeing her near empty glass of red wine.
There was an eclectic mix of couples, friends, and families in the establishment—just another reason why Hadley enjoyed the atmosphere. Everywhere she looked, there was something new to appreciate. Sometimes she felt as if she was living vicariously through the people among her, or that she was part of their circles.
Like that handsome man sitting over there with his…daughter?
Her gaze rested on the distinguished looking gentleman with his linebacker shoulders and solemn face. His hair was thick and black, with a sprinkling of salt laced through. One rogue curl fell across his broad forehead, giving him a sexy, boyish charm that Hadley found almost irresistible. Even from where she sat, Hadley could make out the smoky gray of his eyes, and she found it charming how ill-at-ease he seemed in the bustle of the restaurant.
There’s something very Clark Kent about him, Hadley thought, a small shiver floating through her.
She was surprised at her reaction. It was not often that a perfect stranger would cause such an intimate response in her.
The younger brunette with him seemed to be chattering at him rather than to him, and Hadley smiled softly as he tried to look attentive. He clearly didn’t want to be here, which made Hadley laugh to herself.
As the thought occurred to her, another woman approached the table, closer to the man’s age but dressed like a college girl. Her hair was
a terrible burgundy dye job, and her skirt was far too short for such lumpy legs.
Hadley watched the brunette girl squeal in delight, embracing the inappropriately dressed woman and shooing her into their booth next to the handsome man.
I guess the wife is here now, Hadley thought, a strange sense of disappointment piercing her heart.
“Here you are, miss,” the waiter announced, depositing another glass of merlot just out of reach of the papers so it would not spill.
Hadley shifted her eyes away from the man and guiltily lowered her gaze. She was checking out married men who were too old for her. She had been there for too long that night.
“Thank you,” she said, trying to ignore the loneliness that abruptly overwhelmed her. “I think I’ll take the check, too.” The server nodded and turned away to retrieve her check.
Hadley couldn’t resist sneaking one last look at the man and his odd family before turning back to her grading. Maybe she would be a happily married woman one day, too. She wouldn’t mind if her future husband looked like that.
* * *
“Byron, I can’t believe we’ve never met before!” Jessica’s friend exclaimed, leaning over to touch his arm, her thick Georgian accent dripping with phoniness.
Byron jerked as if she had burned him, pulling his hands off the table to slip them out of view and out of reach. Jessica’s friend seemed to have tentacles, touching him at every opportunity, and he was beginning to feel violated.
“Yeah,” he said dully, shooting Jessica a scathing look. “Although I don’t think I’ve ever heard your name before, Allison.”
Jessica’s mouth puckered into a pout, and she shook her head.
“That’s not true, Uncle Byron!” she denied. “I’ve mentioned Allison many times. We’ve worked together at the wellness center for a year!”
Byron shrugged nonchalantly and picked up a piece of garlic bread.
“Can’t say I remember that,” he replied, popping the food in his mouth. Allison glanced uncomfortably at Jessica, but Byron could see that his niece was not going to let it go.