by Lila Felix
“You’re nuts.”
“No, I’m not. Don’t you think I’ve wanted to do the same thing when you were parading across Hawke’s lawn?”
“That’s not the same. There were no males there, molesting my biceps and hips.”
“Sure they were. Just in their minds. I nearly choked Tarrow to death right there in the Alpha’s office.”
I couldn’t help but argue with this man. Not arguing with him would drive me to drink.
“But I didn’t do it on purpose.”
He chuckled, the sound soothed me from the inside out. “Yes, you did.”
I sighed. With this mating thing I couldn’t get away with jack. “Fine. I did. But I won’t do it anymore. No more shaking my ass to get my mate’s attention, I swear it. And next time some skinny Cruella wanna-be is touching you, do a girl a solid and back away from her, or spray her with pepper spray—something. If she touched your arm one more time, she was going to be selling furniture fingerless in the future.”
With those words, he laughed, really laughed until his nostrils were flaring in and out and one hand reached out and cradled his stomach.
“You’re really funny when you’re angry, and I agree with everything you said except one thing.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
He parked in a parking spot in front of a restaurant. I’d hardly realized we’d left the furniture store. “Next time you want to shake something, do it; but make sure it’s a private show. Now, let’s get you fed. Your hunger is making me hungrier.”
Through all my homemade drama, I hadn’t even realized I was hungry.
“Agreed.”
“Stay there.” He said holding up his pointer finger and rushing out of the door. Walking around the back of the car, I had no idea what he was up to until he opened my door.
“I can open the door for myself.” In addition to the great desire I had to argue with him constantly, I also felt the need to defend my independence. The beast inside of me gave the middle finger every time I did. She’d have to get over it.
“I know that, Martha. I just thought that this is the first time we are going on a date of sorts and I’d be a gentleman. I suspect you’d complain if I hadn’t opened the door.” Then he shrugged. “I wanted to open the car door for the most gorgeous female I’ve ever seen. You don’t like it? Write it in a book.”
Did I mention that I hated how he knew the exact words to shut me up?
His stride was confident as he walked into the restaurant and held the door open for me, daring me with his ballsy stare to say something about that very sweet gesture.
Sweet gesture?
I have multiple personalities.
I need medication.
Or yoga.
Something to balance this shit out.
Of course, the waitress was a pert little teen dream who licked her ruby red lips before asking him how many were in his party. I bet she had some hidden meaning behind that question.
She wanted to put her sweet and sour on more than just the chicken.
I was losing it again, this time in a restaurant of all places.
As soon as he touched me, I released a long breath. My jaw unlocked and the rest of me followed its lead. His hand kneaded the back of my neck as we walked to the table and took our seats. The waitress had placed us in a corner, with only the flickering red candle in the middle as lighting.
“Better?” I glanced at him—concerned laced his voice and marked his face.
“Yes, thank you.”
“I’m sorry. I should’ve done that as soon as I got into the car at the furniture store. It seems I’ve tried to take over again.”
I laughed. “And I think I’ve done the opposite. I’ve let my bear rule me today against my better judgment.”
Taking my hand in his, he raised it to his mouth and kissed it gently. “You had that saleswoman shaking in her pointy shoes.”
I sighed and he tugged on my hand, “Hey, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I was flattered.”
“I think you’ve already won, by the way.” I admitted. “If we weren’t staying among a pack of wolves, I would have us complete the markings tonight.”
Our hearts sped up together. I didn’t know which one of us had sparked the thundering rhythm. It didn’t matter.
“We will be back home soon.”
The waiter came to take our order and I hadn’t even looked at the menu. Rev, so cool and calm, ordered for us both.
“What are we waiting for anyway? What did Hawke order?”
“A hand-carved crib.”
“Why from here?”
“The wolves and he have kept close contact. I don’t know the details about how furniture came up in their dealings, but somehow it did and as soon as he knew Echo was expecting, he took action.”
The food arrived shortly afterwards. I watched him eat. There was no way he could keep up his good manners with chopsticks and eggrolls.
My mate schooled me again in how wrong I could be.
As we pulled into the wolves’ territory, I looked at the time and planned out my writing goal for the night. I’d packed my laptop and headphones against my mother’s argument.
She thought I worked too hard.
We’d stayed at the restaurant longer than I’d planned and my schedule was way off.
“Are you working tonight?”
“Yes. I work every night.”
He huffed, “Even holidays?”
“Even holidays. It’s a part of my life now. It’s more than a job.”
Talking about writing, put me back into human mode. I opened my own door, even though I saw Rev coming around.
He opened the door to our little cabin and pushed the door for me to enter first.
“Do you need me to leave? Will I distract you?”
I shook my head, “No, it’s fine. I did well the other night when you were with me.”
“Good. I’ve brought my computer as well. I will work while you do.”
“Okay.”
The tiny desk facing the window in the cabin suited me just fine. I’d never worked anywhere but at my home office or in a hotel room, but I still hadn’t told Rev about all the travelling I did, but I supposed it was small news compared to the fact that we couldn’t get through the day without arguing.
The wolves’ lands were remote enough to be away from the noise of humanity, but not so close as to give me nothing but silence for company. Outside, I could hear the different sounds of this country as opposed to the swamps. Here, there were owls abundant and different creatures roaming the night.
I typed for hours, again, forgoing the headphones in favor of the beat of our hearts, so loud in this atmosphere and as the soothing as the lull of Rev’s breathing.
I’d hit my word count earlier than usual and those sounds were making my bear more and more curious.
“Are you awake?” I turned to see him almost done with my book.
“I am. Are you done?”
“Yes. But I’m not tired.”
“The gates have locked for the night. We can’t leave the pack’s land unless it is an emergency.”
I rolled my bottom lip along my top teeth. “Is there room to run? Is that allowed?”
He rose up from the bed so fast it startled me. “You read my mind, mate.”
Rev
Relief flooded me knowing that the frequency in which she liked to run was similar to mine. My bear roared at me, warning that there may be males at bay, even if they were wolves.
Safe, protected. Those were the words he spoke to me as I took Martha’s hand and led her out of the cabin and into the forest behind the pack’s lands.
“Leave your clothes here so that you can dress in the woods. We can’t be as free as we are at home.”
She nodded and bid me turn around before she stripped. Shifting into my other form was easier to me than staying human. As a child, I’d spent so much time as a bear that my father worried I might not come back
sometimes. When school let out on Fridays, I’d throw the backpack my father had handmade onto my bed, take off all my clothes down to my boxers, and leave. There were many a Monday when my father had to write a note for me feigning sickness or another excuse, because I hadn’t come back from running.
School had been hard for me. I hadn’t gotten along with the other children. My father was well removed from clan life and certainly human life due to his anger at being shunned from the former Alpha. We’d been kept away from clan events and gatherings, always being told it was for our own good.
I’d been taught that Alphas were working toward our demise—the history keepers. I’d feared and hated all Alphas because he had.
So when Hawke had called upon me—I hadn’t known what to do.
That dumbass Tarrow was the one who explained how Hawke was trying to do things differently.
And then I saw how he treated the Coeur and no more explanations were necessary—he had my full allegiance.
I’d taken off everything but my shorts when two hands on my shoulder blades froze me in place.
“You went somewhere dark, Rev.”
With the hands of my mate against my skin, I was no longer in anyplace dark. The moon shone down through a splice in the canopy of trees above us. I tried, in vain, not to picture Martha, her black hair barely touching her bare shoulders, that same waning moon putting her in the spotlight.
“I did.”
“You need to run with me.” She whispered. The prickle of knowing quaked through me. She’d shifted and this time, I’d felt the whole thing down to the moment when her ears turned round with brown tips. No time was wasted in bringing on my own transition. My female had to be protected in these uncharted woods.
Go behind me, mate. We don’t know this place. I used the bond to speak in order to keep our identities safe from whatever we should encounter on our run.
Joy covered all other emotions as she discovered new things. I watched her in awe. We’d found a mountain and before I could protest, she’d clawed her way to the top and looked down on me triumphantly.
And then it changed to worry.
You told me to stay behind.
I’d never known a bear could be almost completely opposite of their human. Martha and her bear seemed to be at constant odds as to how to handle this whole mating thing and how to handle me, more specifically.
Martha would’ve bowed up and puffed out her chest in victory.
But the gentle, loving bear inside her brought out her true self and she was worried I’d be angry for not following my lead.
You look beautiful up there in the moonlight.
Join me.
I took a different path to the top and before I reached the summit, my claw grabbed into a boulder. Pulling myself up, using its steadiness, I found it wasn’t steady at all.
On my way down, all I could see was a slideshow of pictures—trees, sky, ground, trees, sky ground.
Falling is like fainting, you never really know the whole story until you’re back to reality.
Rev!
I shifted back to human form after landing flat on my back on the ground.
“Are you okay?” Martha was back to human.
“Yeah, it was just a fall. No big deal.”
So she slapped me on the stomach. “You scared the shit out of me. Be more careful!”
“I was being careful. It was an accident. Why are you hitting me?”
Instead of answering, she shifted and ran toward the cabin. I had no choice but to shift and follow on her heels. When I reached her, she’d already dressed and was back to her defensive self—hands on hips and angrier than a wet hen.
After I was back to being a human, I didn’t even bother being falsely shy of putting my clothes on in front of her.
“I’m ready to go back.” Her pointy words reinforced her attitude.
“Fine.”
We walked back and for the first time in my life, I regretted running as a bear. It seemed like I couldn’t do anything right by my female. Even having an accident and falling down was a crime in her eyes.
“I’m going to work some more.” She announced snidely after slamming the cabin door behind her.
“Fine.” I answered, as detached as I could manage and went to bed in that tiny cabin with the female who made my heart beat the way it did and who’d already earned my love and respect only feet away. I might as well have been alone.
So much for never having to sleep without her.
The next morning I awakened to find she’d slept in the recliner in the corner. The anger that flooded me was inconceivable.
What kind of male leaves an argument unsettled and goes to bed angry?
I may not have been raised by such a loving pair, but that didn’t inhibit me from knowing how things should be.
Frustrated with myself and the whole situation, I tore out of the bed, showered and went outside. Wolves in their human forms were bustling about everywhere I looked. I tried to avoid all the prying eyes. I didn’t have anything against these wolves in general, but my bear felt uneasy among an army full of predators.
“The crib is almost finished, Rev. The last coat of stain will be dry by this afternoon. You and your mate will be free to leave. It can’t be too—comfortable being among us. Though we’d never harm you or your female.”
It was Schuylar, the wolves’ Alpha, who spoke to me. His menacing and maniacal smile was artifice. He had always been good to Hawke.
“I know you wouldn’t. In the meantime, do you have anything I can do for you?”
He laughed and the sound bordered on hyena.
“Shouldn’t you be with your female? Newly mated couples are often—insatiable.”
Good Creator above, was I about to talk mating advice with a wolf?
“Let’s just say I need to work out some frustration.”
He clapped me on the shoulder. “I’ve got the perfect job for you.”
I followed him to a remote piece of land and saw the job he intended for me. He was right. It was just what I needed. Schuylar put an axe in my hand and ticked his head in the direction of a pile of tree rounds that needed to be split.
Only thirty minutes into the work, I’d worked up such a sweat, even in the more tempered weather, that tore off my shirt before continuing.
Splitting wood with an axe was god for the soul.
Deep in my chest, I felt her movements, her maniac range of emotions, but mostly, I felt her hurt. With every slam of the axe against Oak I ground my aggravation out. I was so bad at this. The Creator had made her for me, so why did he make me so obviously unfit to care for her?
I continued chopping, one chunk of wood after another until my hands were bleeding and I couldn’t feel my arms anymore. The wolves would have enough wood for three winters at the rate I’d cut.
The sun above told me it was nearing noon and yet she didn’t seek me.
Because you are unworthy of her.
When a shifter doubted their mate, themselves, the Creator or their Alpha, you can bet your ass they’ve allowed their human to take over to a point where their animal had no say.
Bears were so easy. They accepted their place in life, in the clan and in the pecking order without apprehension. Our black furry counterparts just wanted to live, find their mate, and have a family. It wasn’t complicated or difficult. There were no doubts about whether or not their mate would arrive. There were certainly no second guesses about their mates’ compatibility.
As humans, we’d complicated the relationship between us and the Creator.
That was the problem.
Our bears didn’t have the nuisances of all the daily details that muted the voice of their Maker. They heard them loud and clear.
Humans, in books they’d written on their theories about shifters. They had it all wrong. We didn’t shift out of anger or rage, unless there was something to protect or defend. We weren’t animalistic beings who barely maintained our humanity.
&
nbsp; Down in the core of who we were, there was a simple explanation.
We shifted to get back to the basics.
We shifted to grow closer to our mates and our Creator.
The uncomplicated other version of ourselves had six priorities at most—Mate, food, water, shelter, clan, and Creator—the Creator and mate coming first.
The rest of the details of life fell to the wayside.
I’d used the words to Martha about allowing my bear to lead me, but that’s all they were, words. The straightforward, untarnished version of me had been in the background all along.
One last slam of the axe and I was done. Though nothing had been resolved, I had no frustration left to pound out.
“They said it’s done—the crib. We can get going whenever you are ready.”
Her voice made the tiny hairs on the back of my neck to rise. Everything about her brought me to life.
“Fine.”
Fine was the only thing I could say that wouldn’t give away my duress.
I turned to face her. She was already dressed and all that beautiful black hair was up in a ponytail. It gave me a great view of her neck and the little hairs that curled around the base of it—the sensitive spot below her ears.
“I’m going to take a shower and then we can go.”
Martha gasped, and I stopped dead in my tracks to find out who I needed to kill first—that was my initial instinct.
“What is it?”
She jogged toward me. “You’re bleeding.”
Inspecting my hands for only a fraction of a second, Martha then dragged me to the cabin and led me inside.
“Sit down.” She pointed to the bed and rifled through her bag, eventually producing a first aid kit—the tiniest first aid kit I’d ever seen.
“I’m fine.” I said, attempting to stand up. I soon found out that as short as she was, she packed a punch—which she showed to me.
“Yes.” She sighed. “You’re fine. You were fine when you tumbled down the mountain. You were fine when I wanted to leave—even though this,” Her pointer finger needled into my sternum. “Told me that you wanted to stay. What else? Oh, you were fine when I wanted to work all night. You were fine to snore all night in that bed by yourself, and now you’ve bludgeoned your hands. You’re just all kinds of fine.”