by Jenika Snow
So here I was, three years after penning my first thriller story, buying an old-ass house situated on rustic acreage, and living my best life.
It was another twenty minutes of driving down some scarily tight roads before I finally turned off on a little dirt lane that would lead to where my property was. My Jeep Cherokee was packed full of supplies, but thankfully I’d had the moving company bring over the majority of my belongings the previous week.
When I finally saw the house, my heart did a little jump. It was decent looking on the outside, a two-story cabin which fit well with the scenery, and a small porch out front. But it was old, nearly seventy years old, to be exact, and despite it being in his family for a couple generations, the owner had decided to move. And because of the state of the place, I’d gotten a really good deal on it, even with the five acres.
But it was clear the previous owner hadn’t cared two shits about how he took care of the place. Almost everything needed replaced, including all the appliances—a matter which I hoped had already been addressed.
There were some solar panels, a propane tank that was in decent condition, but aesthetically the house needed lots of work. So that’s where Blue Bear Ridge Restoration came in.
I remembered seeing the owner of the company back when we lived in town, although it was in passing. But I do remember hearing the stories of him and his brothers, bear shifters who lived as recluses high up in the mountains. Although I probably could’ve found several other companies who could have helped with the renovation, there’d been this nagging feeling at the base of my skull that drew me to his company.
Maybe it was because he actually worked in town? Maybe it was because I “knew” him? But it was still such a strange sensation, and so I asked the real estate agent specifically for Asher’s company to do the remodeling. It had been a shot in the dark, given the fact it was such short notice, but when I got the call that Asher would do it, I felt this calmness fill me, a sensation that this was exactly what was supposed to happen.
The gravel crunched under my tires as I pulled into the driveway, seeing a big pick-up truck parked in front of the garage. Blue Bear Ridge Restoration was painted on the side of the truck and I found myself curling my hands tightly around the steering wheel involuntarily.
I didn’t know if I liked the way I felt. But I pushed it off to this being a new experience, that I was out of my element, and all the things that went with that.
After putting the Jeep in park and cutting the engine, I climbed out and headed to the back, opening the passenger door and grabbing my backpack. I had all my writing stuff in it: laptop, notepads and pens, and an inspiration trifold mini-board that I used for my current work in progress.
I then lifted a box with some food—canned goods, boxed foods, and other nonperishables. I needed to head to the grocery store in town and get some actual stuff, some healthy stuff. Fruits and vegetables, and the essentials: coffee, wine, and chocolate.
I adjusted the backpack on my shoulder and made my way inside. I took the few steps it required to get on the porch, one of the things about the cabin that needed a major overhaul. In fact, I wanted an entire wraparound deck; that way I could get all the angles of the house and scenery, even look at the creek and hear it trickling down the mountain as I wrote.
I held the box between my arm and body and reached out to open the screen door. It was rickety and squeaked as I pulled on it. The main door was already open, and I stepped inside, the musty scent of the house not having been aired out for a while, with an underlying hint of pine, filling my head.
I heard the sound of a tape measure being opened and snapped back in place.
Opened and snapped back in place.
I couldn’t see Asher, but I felt this nervousness start to fill me. I walked into the kitchen and set the box and my backpack on the breakfast island. I turned and faced the living room and really looked around, taking in my new home.
This was the first time I’d actually been here, that I’d actually stepped inside my new cabin and looked around. Buying this place seemed so spur of the moment, a drop of the hat kind of thing, but I just felt it was right, that it was for me.
The lower floor of the cabin was one large room, with the kitchen off to the left and the living room to the right. A massive stone fireplace was right across from the kitchen island, one of the major selling points for me because it was gorgeous, and I could picture myself sitting in front of it on a cold winter night.
There was a set of stairs off to the side of the living room that led up to the second floor. On that level there was a loft, two bedrooms, and one bathroom, with the second bathroom on the first floor right off of the kitchen.
I took in the living room first. A large picture window was across from the stairs, giving a gorgeous view of the forest. Massive exposed beams were above, giving the place ambience and a cabin-like feel.
I turned and faced the kitchen. To my left was a large open area, which would be perfect for a small dining room table. Another large picture window sat opposite of where the table would go. Then there was the kitchen itself, with my new stove, refrigerator, and dishwasher. The counters would need to be redone, but the cabinets were natural wood that had been lightly stained. They were gorgeous.
Another large window sat right above the sink, and I could faintly see where the starting point of the creek was. I knew when I opened the window I’d be able to hear the trickling of it mixed in with the sounds of the wildlife.
For the next ten minutes or so I was messing with the new appliances, opening and closing the refrigerator, doing the same with the dishwasher and the stove.
All these bursts of ideas and images about decorating the cabin once it was fully done played through my mind.
I turned and leaned against the sink, crossing my arms and just looking around. It was when I heard the snap of the tape measure again that I remembered I wasn’t alone. I heard footsteps above, coming closer to the stairs.
Then I saw him.
He was jotting down something on a small notepad, his dark blond hair cut short, his body big and masculine. He was just like I remembered, but ... more.
He had yet to notice me, and so I took that moment and just stared at him. I didn’t know why I felt this connection, this pull, but it was undeniable.
It was unmistakable.
It consumed me.
And I found myself desperately wanting to explore it more.
Chapter 3
Asher
I’d shown up at the cabin an hour earlier, and as soon as I stepped inside I knew this project was going to be an undertaking in itself. The previous owner had let the place go to shit, although from what I could see, the cabin was structurally sound.
But cosmetically it needed a lot of work.
I went through each room and took measurements, writing them down, figuring out in my head what would need to be done, the supplies I’d need to acquire, and the length of time to get this completed.
The new owner, Ainsley Shepherd, was due at the house sometime today, and although it would be best if I was here to meet with her and go over specifications, anxiety filled me at the thought.
Ever since I heard her name from the real estate agent, I’d been obsessing over it, playing it in my head on repeat, unable to get it out of my mind. I didn’t understand it, but it was like this living entity inside of me, refusing to diminish no matter how hard I tried to force it.
So, I immersed myself in work, in restoring my boat, but no matter what, I hadn’t been able to focus on anything. And my bear, my fucking bear was restless, pacing inside of me, demanding to be out. Maybe that’s all it was? It had been too long since I’d let the bastard out, since he’d been free and run.
That had to be it. My animal telling me that it was time to get some energy out.
Yes, that’s what I needed.
I needed to run free. I needed to get back to my roots.
It was dangerous for a shifter not
to let his animal out from time to time, and it had been months since I’d let him roam.
I closed my eyes and rolled my head around on my neck, feeling the vibrations of his growl, hearing it my head. He was an anxious bastard on the best of days, but right now, over the last few days since I’d gotten the call from the real estate agent, he’d been one annoying motherfucker.
I breathed out slowly and opened my eyes, going back to measuring. I heard the sound of an approaching vehicle and assumed it was the owner but kept on working. She’d come find me when she was ready.
The scent of dust and age filled my head. It was a damn shame the previous occupant didn’t give two shits about this place, because the state it was in made it clear he probably hadn’t been on the upper level for some time, not even to clean it.
I stepped out of the master bedroom, made my way toward the stairs, but stopped and started jotting down some last-minute ideas and numbers. And as I wrote those things down the scent of something glorious slammed into me.
It was something that filled every single part of me, right down to my very marrow. My bastard bear stilled, froze. He fucking grew calm.
It was like time stood still, as if nothing else mattered. I inhaled deeply, the scent of warm sugar, vanilla, and a touch of honey coating my senses. It wasn’t food that I smelled, but the scent of a female ... of our female. That had a husky roar leaving my bear.
I slowly opened my eyes and looked over the loft, seeing her standing there. She watched me, the strangest expression on her face, as if she were confused about these feelings as well, conflicted about what was going on inside of her.
The moment was so intense that I actually dropped my pad and pen as I reached out and grabbed the banister framing off the loft. I tried to stay calm, steady.
I couldn’t move, so all I did was stand there and stare at her. I let the realization that my mate was actually here slam into me, wrap its possessive claws around every organ in my body, and squeeze tightly.
I couldn’t breathe or think, couldn’t even move. I was lost in the color of her eyes—this cerulean blue that had me thinking of the ocean.
Get your shit together.
But even telling myself that over and over again, even after trying to keep my fucking control, the human and bear sides of me were at war.
Take her. Claim her. Mark her.
I never thought I’d have a mate. Take time to think about this. Really understand what this means.
My bear growled at my human side, at my thoughts and confusion and second-guessing.
But as I looked at her I knew one thing for certain.
This was my reality. She was my mate, the one woman who was meant to be mine. Only mine.
I’d gone so long thinking I wouldn’t find her that I’d come to the conclusion I would live a solitary life. I’d accepted that.
But in the blink of an eye, in one single moment, all of that had changed.
“Hi,” she said after clearing her throat, as if she’d caught herself just as transfixed as I was.
I said nothing in return, not because I didn’t want to, but because I couldn’t find my voice. She lifted her hand and waved, but I still stood there saying nothing. I watched as her brows knitted, as if she were confused, probably thinking What the fuck is up with this dude?
“I assume you’re Asher? At least I hope you are and not some strange man in my house.” She laughed softly.
The sound of her voice, the way her tone rose as she joked, had my heart stopping.
I finally cleared my throat and nodded, moving away from the banister and toward the stairs. “I am.”
She laughed. “You’re Asher or you’re a strange man in my house?”
Fuck, her voice had every part of me coming alive, little shock waves of electricity moving through me.
My bear wanted out. I wanted to take her, claim here right here in this cabin. Fuck everything else, fuck being polite and a gentleman, going slow and making her see that she was made for me. My bear wanted out so he could mark her, to see if she was as sweet and delicious as I knew she’d be.
I heard a low growl fill the air and realized it was me, my bear pushing for supremacy. He was trying to show dominance, but I kept my control. I couldn’t be more animal than man right now.
I cleared my throat and lifted my hand to rub the back of my neck. “I’m Asher.” Shit, was that my voice?
I found myself walking down the stairs and toward her, this tightness in my body so pronounced I felt my muscles relax and contract. It took every ounce of self-control not to shift right here, not to show her my bear, let her know what she was getting into.
But she was human, fragile and vulnerable, maybe unaware of the way it worked with mates.
Show her how it will be with us, as our mate.
Those words played over and over again in my head.
She was made for me, born for me. I wanted to admit that I’d never been with anyone, never touched, kissed ... felt a woman, because I didn’t want to, but also because it was physically impossible.
No other woman made me feel desire. Any pleasure I had found all these years had come from my own hand as I pictured my nameless, faceless mate.
But then as the years passed and I grew more isolated, hardened, I’d come to the resolve I would forever be alone.
And then fate had stepped in and given me my mate. She was only a few feet from me, looking up at me with big blue eyes I could get lost in. All I wanted to do was hold her, kiss her, touch every part of her until she was writhing and begging me for more.
But right now, I was conflicted and confused, fighting internally with my bear. I found myself taking a step back, knowing how I wanted this to go, but instead having all these unusual, powerful feelings moving through me.
“I’ll be in touch later this week with all the specifications.” My voice was hard, deep, my bear right there at the surface.
I could see her eyebrows lower, could sense that she was aware something was off right now. But instead of saying anything, I handed her my business card with shaky fingers and turned and left my mate standing there, confused and alone.
And, as I walked away from her, it felt so wrong. The need to go back to her had me stopping several times, had me questioning every single thing in my life.
And through it all, one thing kept playing through my mind ... Go back to her now.
Chapter 4
Ainsley
I collapsed on my bed, my arms outstretched along the mattress, my focus on the cedar wood ceiling. It had been a full day of unpacking the food and kitchen stuff—well, as much as I could, seeing as renovations needed to be done so there was no point in really getting settled. But I needed some items out, needed to make this place feel a little bit like home while I stayed here, while it was being worked on around me.
All of my belongings were still in boxes scattered throughout the cabin, but I’d managed to get the bed together—well, at least the mattress. Hauling a full-size mattress up the stairs had been a feat in itself, but it was worth it, because making a pallet on the floor or sleeping on the couch was not an option I was really wanting to take. Especially not after the long drive I’d had.
But if I were being honest, I’d been keeping myself busy all day trying to get Asher out of my mind. I didn’t know why he consumed me so much. I’d just met him, didn’t know anything about him aside from the rumors I’d heard while living in town years ago, and what little research I’d done on his company.
Yet I couldn’t get him out of my mind.
All I kept picturing was our interaction, that first meeting where he seemed almost as confused with how weird things had gone and felt as I had been.
Even now, I could smell his scent lingering in the air, this starkly masculine aroma that had hints of the forest weaved in. I felt like those scents were ingrained in me, like I would never be able to not smell them.
I sat up and moved over so that I could grab his business card
off the nightstand. I held it in my hand, the paper smooth, thick. I envisioned it between his fingers, his thumb and forefinger moving over the paper. I started to have obscene thoughts, ones that had to do with his hands, me, and both of us naked.
God, I was losing my mind.
I set the card down and lay back, my eyes closed, sexual images slamming through my mind over and over again. But I needed to get myself together, because it was clear these feelings were one-sided. He’d acted like being close to me was akin to being on fire, especially as he hauled ass out of the cabin.
And for some strange, indescribable reason, that broke a piece of my heart.
I actually lifted my hand and rubbed the center of my chest, this ache settling right there. I was insane. I had to be to feel this kind of intense emotion over a man I’d just met. But on the heels of that thought, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe there was something more to this. Maybe this wasn’t just some crazy feeling I felt for an attractive bear shifter?
Maybe, just maybe, we were more to each other?
A mate?
Living in a world full of shifters made a human very aware of the technicalities of what being mated to a shifter actually meant. Being tied inexplicably to a shifter meant undeniable, irrefutable, proof that you were meant for that one person. That your soulmate was out there, that other piece of you that you never knew was missing until it stood right in front of you.
And that’s how I felt.
Surely that had to be my case, that maybe I was tied to someone, and that’s the reason why I’d never felt desire, never been with a man, hell, never even been kissed.
Here I was, a grown-ass woman and I’d never known a man’s touch. I’d never even felt pleasure, not unless it was at my own hands, those awkward little touches I gave myself as I thought about a faceless man who I just knew in my heart was meant for me alone.
And maybe it was because of all that that I’d never gone the romance route in my writing? Maybe it was because I didn’t know how that even felt since I’d never experienced it, and as much as I wanted to write about people falling in love, I just couldn’t.