"Like what you see?" My face is burning and I hide under the covers. I should have done this ages ago. It would have spared me a gazillion moments of embarrassment.
He laughs and I cringe. Men shouldn't be allowed to run around naked. It should be a rule. I can hear him rummage around the room, and I dare to peek out of the covers. He's dressed - well, he's got trousers on. For these men, that seems to be very dressed. He gives me a mocking bow. "Your chariot awaits."
I remember my ankle. He wants to carry me downstairs with no shirt on? No thanks.
"Don't you want to get dressed first?" I timidly suggest.
He shoots me a wicked look. "But I'm warm. Besides, I don't have any nice shirts up here."
"I don't mind if you wear a not-so-nice shirt. Really, I don't."
He laughs again, but finally picks up a black t-shirt from the ground and pulls it over. I can finally breathe again. And all of this torture before I've even had my breakfast.
Luckily I'm still wearing my clothes. I decide against trying to change with him in the room - he'd never look away, no matter how many times I'd ask him to. And I'm not going to beg. They'll have to deal with a smelly human. After all, I'm having to cope with super-sized, bear-shaped, muscle-propped... guys.
I climb out from underneath the blanket, carefully lifting it off my injured ankle. It's pulsing softly, on the border between soreness and pain. Maybe I can ask one of the guys downstairs to make me another snowpack. Torben squats down in front of me so I can climb on his back. I can feel his hard muscles underneath the shirt. His pine-woodruff scent tingles my nose - in a very pleasant way. When we get to the ladder, I grip him more tightly. It's just because I'm scared of falling, really. Not because I like the feeling of him against my chest and between my thighs - no, that sounded entirely inappropriate. When we reach the ground floor, I wriggle until he lets me jump off his back. I hop into the living room on one leg - much better than clinging to him like a needy monkey.
Húnn is sitting next to the fireplace, a plate full of meat skewers next to him. More are sizzling on a grill above the fire. He smiles at me. "Good morning, sweetie."
"Good morning. And don't call me that."
"But you smell so sweet, sweetie. I don't think I can stop, unless you change your scent. And that wouldn't be a good idea."
I sniff at my clothes. Not smelly, at least not in a bad way. Just smelling more like... me, rather than washing powder.
He grins again and passes me a skewer. I'm not quite sure what kind of meat it is, but it tastes delicious.
"Do you eat anything besides meat?"
They look at each other as if that's the most idiotic thing they've ever heard.
"There's food that isn't meat?" Torben asks in wonder. "However could such a thing exist?"
I throw my empty skewer at him. He catches it in mid-air, and now it's my turn to stare.
"I like honey," Húnn chimes in.
"That's very... beary." We laugh, and even Torben breaks a smile. One that isn't suggestive or dripping with sarcasm for once.
"Would you pass me another skewer?" I ask him, and add, for good measure, "honey?"
Húnn looks at me like a predator looks at a mouse. Torben snorts. "She's good. And cute. I'm glad you didn't freeze, little human."
I don't deign them with a look and instead focus on my breakfast. The meat is juicy, but not bloody. I wonder if Húnn caught it as a bear. I imagine him sinking his claws into a deer, his fangs ripping into the flesh... Strangely enough, I'm ok with that. Which is very strange indeed. I've never been a fan of violence and cruelty. But after seeing the men as bears, as predators, I can see their animalistic traits peeking out beneath their human skins from time to time.
"What are the plans for today?" Húnn asks. The question is clearly directed at Torben.
"I'm going for a run -" I'm pretty sure that means he needs some bear time - "...and Ràn will be here in a moment to join you."
"I don't need two babysitters," I protest.
"No, but they need one," Torben smirks, and I laugh. Húnn scowls at us. "They have a bit of a brotherly thing going on, and it sometimes ends in fights."
"Scuffles," Húnn intersects. "Slight disagreements."
"Rampages."
"Arguments."
"Wars."
Before Húnn can come up with another term for his apparently minor disagreements with his brother, Ràn comes in, slamming the door against the wall. Apparently, he's not friends with the door. Or the wall. Is he friends with anyone? Judging from his permanent scowl, not likely.
"I'll leave you to it," Torben says and starts taking off his shirt. Seriously?
Eyes fixed on Húnn, I try to ignore the sound of a zipper. Ràn flops down next to his brother and takes two skewers at once. They disappear quicker than Torben can get undressed.
When the door falls shut behind the Viking-bear, I breathe a sigh of relief. Now I can relax.
Two almost identical pairs of eyes are looking at me. Maybe not.
While Ràn is eating - devouring - the rest of the skewers, I look out of the window, wishing I was out there. The wind has blown away the clouds and the sun has come out to play. The forest is shimmering with feathery snow on the trees. Instead I'm stuck inside with two giant bear brothers. Húnn and Ràn. So similar, and yet so different. Húnn is chuckling while watching his brother eat. Ràn's scowl has disappeared a little, but I have yet to see him crack a smile.
Húnn is the darker one of the two, but only by a few shades. They match each other in bulkiness, although at least Húnn is wearing a shirt. Ràn seems to have a difficult relationship with clothes. He's even worse than Torben. If only he was bad looking, then my gaze wouldn't be drawn to his muscly chest again and again. I imagine Húnn looks the same under his button up shirt.
"You're such a glutton," Húnn complains. His brother doesn't reply, but reaches for the next, and the final skewer. A second later, the meat has gone. Satisfied, Ràn leans back, the faintest trace of a smile flirting with his lips. Without his scowl his face is beautiful. Strong lines, an angular jaw, a perfect nose, the soft outlines of where a beard could be... Stop drooling, Isla. He's a bear. A big, bad bear who has humans for breakfast. Who says that wasn't human flesh on those skewers?
"Ehm, what meat did you cook for us?" I ask innocently.
"That was squirrel, not much else out there on this island," Húnn says with a cheeky grin.
"It's one of my favourites."
Ràn suddenly boxes his brother in the side. Húnn grimaces.
"Ok, it wasn't squirrel," he admits. "I just wanted to see your reaction. But you didn’t react. You’re not very girly, did you know that?”
Now I’m the one to box him. Grinning, Ràn leans back against the wall, stretching his long legs until his feet are close to the fire. We sit in silence.
"So what do you guys do when you're not running around as bears?" I ask, trying to start a conversation. Not that I have much hope of achieving that goal.
"Talk," Ràn says, almost giving me a heart attack. Ràn talking about talking - the gods of irony must be having a field day.
"Drink," Húnn adds.
"Nothing else? What about games?"
"Yeah, those too. Usually drinking games." Figures.
"Read."
Again, Ràn shocks me. I didn't expect that. But then... it's kind of cute, although I'm having a hard time imagining him with a book in his massive hands.
Our conversation seems to end before it even starts. I look out of the window again, wondering if Torben is having fun running around in the snow. Finn must be out there too.
And I'm stuck with the boring two.
When I notice that I have to pee, it's almost a relief to have an excuse to get up. When I try and get off the ground, Húnn is by my side, helping me up. I give him a grateful smile. It's quite amazing how much an injured ankle can get in the way.
"Thank you. I think I can make it to the toilet myself."
"No, I'll help you." He scoops me up into his arms and walks towards the door - and bangs my legs against the doorframe. I scream in pain. Before Húnn can even open his mouth, a growl shakes the room. Through the tears welling up in my eyes, I look back and see a bear charging us. His eyes are wild beneath the shaggy dark fur.
I'm unceremoniously dropped to the ground. Ouch.
"Fuck it," I can hear Húnn growl, and with the sound of ripping cloth his human body stretches and squeezes - there's no other way I can explain it - until a second later a large brown bear is standing on a mess of rags that were once a very nice shirt and jeans. Bear-Húnn gets up on his hind legs, crashing his head against the ceiling. Wood creaks and dust sprinkles down. I press myself against the wall, scared of becoming collateral damage in this upcoming battle of giants. Ràn swipes his massive paw at Húnn, who evades quicker than I thought possible for a bear his size. He drops down on all fours again and the entire house shakes. He rams his shoulders against Ràn's head and tries to push him away. Ràn presses against his brother, his muscles bulging.
They are evenly matched, and neither is backing down. Ràn growls, his open mouth showing scary sharp teeth. Reality check. Should I really be hanging around with guys who can turn into giant, scary, dangerous mammals? Húnn retaliates, growling and snapping at Ràn's shoulder. Teeth meet flesh, and Ràn lets out a bellowing growl. Trickles of blood appear in his dark brown fur. Ràn backs away, stepping around the fireplace. Húnn follows, his massive paws making the house shudder with each step. When it looks like Ràn is backed into a corner, he suddenly stands up on his hind legs and jumps onto his brother, his jaw grabbing the back of Húnn's neck. The dark-brown bear yelps and I scream.
"Will you stop it! You’re hurting each other!"
They ignore me. Spittle is flying from their muzzles; their eyes burning with violence. The cuddly bears I saw yesterday have turned into vicious beasts. I need to get out of here. Cursing my ankle - and the stupidity that led to said ankle being injured - I drag myself to the door and use the handle to pull myself up. I'm not wearing a jacket, or shoes, for that matter, but I can't stay in the cabin one second longer. When I leave, they are both on their hind legs, wrestling each other. Blood is running down Ràn's shoulder, and Húnn has a gash on his forehead. I step outside and slam the door shut behind me, hoping that they’ll notice.
It's freezing. The sun is shining, turning the snow into a glistening white cloud, but the wind is icy. My socks are soaked as soon as I step onto the ice covering the small tiled terrace. There's an old wooden bench leaning against the wall of the house. Not knowing what else to do, I brush away the snow and sit down, trying to take the weight off my sore ankle. A loud growl shakes the wall behind me. The bears are still fighting. One second they were human, normal, funny (well, Húnn was), and suddenly they're rabid bears.
I don't belong here. A tear runs down my face, turning into ice halfway down. I'm alone, just when I thought I had found friends. I lift my legs up and hug them close, making myself small. I ignore the pain in my ankle. It's a reminder of the emotional pain coursing through my mind.
Alone.
Again.
Something bumps against me. Soft. "Isla? Shit, you're fucking cold. What the hell are you doing out here?" I try and open my eyes, but it's too hard. I'm drifting, barely noticing how I'm picked up and carried inside. It's nice and cosy inside of me. The outside world can stay away. I like it here. No men. No bears. Just me and the cold. Oh yes. Cold. I like the cold. It freezes my thoughts. Makes the bad thoughts slow so they don't hurt. The good thoughts, too, but that's ok. Everything is slow and icy and sparkly.
"Isla?"
"We need to get her warm. What the fuck were you thinking, letting her out on her own?"
"We have to warm her slowly, it can't be too fast. Get some blankets."
"Isla, I'm going to have to get you out of these clothes."
"Don't fight me, sweetie, you won't get warm otherwise."
"Here are blankets, and I found a hot water bottle."
"Fuck that. You know there's a better way."
"She wouldn't like that."
"She's too out of it to care.
"And who's fault is that?"
"She's starting to shiver, that's good. Let's lie her down, carefully."
My icy coat of sparkles is thawing. Don't do that. I don't want to leave. It's scary out there. I'm safe inside me. Safe and safe and... What was I saying? Yes, scary. In here. No, out there. I'm cold. So cold. Make me warm. Please.
The first thing my frozen fingers feel is warmth. Softness. Skin. They move up and down. More skin. One hand goes further up. The soft skin becomes rougher. Hairs are in the way. I brush them aside, following the soft skin. So cuddly. I roll to one side to have both hands to explore.
"Shit, Isla, stop that."
I'm not listening. It feels nice. Warmth is flowing into me from two sides. My back is against a heater and I'm hugging a warm pillow. I can't remember why I want to be warm, but it's nice. Beautiful. Cosy. I hug the pillow closer to me. It resists.
"Isla, what are you doing?"
Isla? Yes, that's me. I'm Isla. And I'm hugging. Hugging is nice. I laugh, it comes out as a giggle. That sounds nice. I do it again. And again. My voice is an instrument making music.
"Would you stop giggling?"
"She's going crazy. We've made her crazy."
"Isla, snap out of it!"
My pillow moves and my hands are pressed back against my body. Something holds my wrists. I want to hug the pillow again, but it's fighting me. I try to turn around to snuggle against my heater, but somehow it’s grown arms that are keeping me in place.
"Isla, open your eyes."
I'm not sure I can do that. Is there an instruction manual somewhere?
I struggle against the pillow. I don't want to open my eyes; I want to be warm. It's not letting me move, so I open my eyes to see why that is. Blue sapphires are looking at me. My pillow has gems. How nice.
"Isla, that's good, well done," the pillow says.
Oh no. The pillow isn't a pillow. I'm not hugging a lifeless object. I'm hugging a Viking. Torben. Afraid of what I might see, my gaze wanders down from his face to his chest to... Yes. He's naked again. I shy back, against another body. Please kill me now. Not another naked man.
This recurring nakedness is getting too much. Do these men never wear clothes? And how can they be comfortable lying skin on skin with - oh no. Skin. My skin. A lot of it. Torben is still holding my hands, so I explore by mentally working myself through my body. My feet can feel the furs on top of me - us - and my legs are sandwiched between warm skin. I disentangle myself from Torben, who I'm clinging to like a monkey. My legs squeezing his. My naked skin on his hot, I mean warm, body. I notice something poking into my belly. Please tell me this isn't - seeing Torben's anatomy earlier today did not prepare me for feeling it. Not at all. I look down, but the blankets are hiding the view. Not that I want to see it. Torben follows my glance and a slight tinge of rose pink appears on his cheeks.
"Ràn, take my place," he groans and rolls away from me. Ràn is standing above us, looking down with a semblance of a grin. Wow, his lips can actually curve in that direction. He's not wearing a shirt - again - but when he starts taking off his trousers I protest. "Leave them on... please."
A snort comes from behind me. I finally see who my radiator is. Finn. "Hello, honey," he whispers into my hair. His breath flutters against my cheek, summoning goose bumps on my skin. Now that Torben is no longer holding me, I roll on my other side to look at Finn. I lift the blanket and look, not preparing for the consequences. A gorgeous chest is smiling at me, with defined abs that aren't too muscly, just perfect. And below... phew, he's wearing boxers. I've never been so grateful to see fabric. I let the blanket drop again. Better not do any further inspection. A large body slides into our group snuggle from behind me. Ràn. He's still wearing his jeans. I enjoy the rough feeling of them on my legs, even though they'r
e colder than Torben's skin was. My body is still shivering a little, but the ice inside has almost melted. A big arm slides around my boobs.
"Ràn!" I shout, turning around, my elbow flying into his chest. Oops.
He feels around - squeezing my right breast in the process, but I'm trying not to think about that - and then settles on my belly. What a troll.
"Sorry," he grumble-whispers in the quietest voice he seems to be able to do. I'm sure that everyone in the room heard him. Yes, they did. Finn starts snorting again.
"Shut up, all of you," I complain. Boys.
At least it's warm. I focus on the warmth, ignoring the fact that it comes from lying in between two half-naked men. I snuggle into the warmness, my exhausted mind slowing down a little. Half-asleep, I grab onto something to cuddle with.
And then I finally sleep.
When I wake up, the first thing I do is feel around me for men. I'm in luck, this time I'm alone under the fur-covered blanket. Good. I know many girls would think the opposite, but I've had enough of guys for a while, thank you very much.
I yawn and stretch, looking around the room. I'm alone with the fire, reduced to a few flames dancing on glowing red coals.
"Hello? Anyone here?"
A shattering sound comes from the kitchen, then the door opens, a grinning Finn behind it.
"Hey sleepy-honey!"
"Sleepy-honey? Really?"
"Well, you're sweet as honey, and your eyes are still half closed, so I think it's an accurate description." He shoots me a cheeky grin. I shake my head in denial. What have I got myself into?
Shifters Gone Wild: A Shifter Romance Collection Page 4