Bear With Me (BBW Paranormal Shifter Romance)

by Jasmine White

  Forcing this fact into the forefront of my consciousness, I urged myself into a run, shouting to the tops of the tree, “Mom! Mom!” as though they would be able to help me. The branches around me rustled, laughing at my foolishness, mocking my slow paced jogging. The roots beneath my feet snatched at my ankles and tried to trip me; long, vine-like twigs whipped out and slashed at my cheeks, already stinging from the tears frozen on my face.

  And then I heard the howl – a long, wavering sound that pierced through the forest and stopped me in my tracks, sending chills all the way up my spine until the hairs on the back of my neck stood up on end. More howls joined in, softer but no less chilling, until it was practically a symphony. Each voice perfectly finely tuned to match with the one beside it, as though there was a canine acapella group just a short distance away.

  I broke into a sprint, defying every instinct in my body to turn and run as far away from the sound as possible. I knew there was danger ahead – mortal danger, most likely. I knew that I had no hope in hell if I tried to fight off whatever creature was capable of making that sound. But I knew also – and god only knows how I knew – that my mom was there, and that I was the only person in the world who could help her.

  I ran for what felt like hours, covering miles and miles of ground, until the autumn sun was high in the sky and I felt like I was going to be sick from worry and exhaustion. Panting and desperately fighting to catch my breath, I collapsed to the damp, muddy ground and looked helplessly around me. I was in a clearing, the one I had been positive the howling had come from, with threadbare trees circling around me. There was not a single living thing in sight. Not a wolf, not a bird, not my mother… I was entirely alone.

  I added my own howl up as an offering to whatever there was out there, letting loose the long scream of frustration which rubbed my throat raw until there was no energy left inside of me to scream anymore. Then I simply sat, with my knees drawn up under my chin, and sobbed. I was too tired and too cold to even think. Nothing made sense and nothing was okay. This was supposed to have been the weekend that would fix everything and bring us back together. And now there was no hope. Everything was fucked, and any chance of fixing it was diminishing faster and faster until the only thought I could properly concentrate on was the image of my mother’s dead body lost somewhere in the forest, half-eaten by foxes.

  I didn’t move again until the sun had shifted another forty-five degrees, unwilling to face the reality of my situation. Finally, my face numb from the cold and my limbs aching with cramps, I raised my head blearily and tried to force my brain to function. One thing was for certain – I could not do this alone. I had to find help, and I had to find them fast. The sun barely grazed the tops of the trees, and I did not want to be caught lost and alone once darkness fell. The wolves’ song still rang through my ears and haunted my memory, reminding me of my task and spurring me on. My legs wobbled beneath me as I struggled to my feet and lurched back into the depths of the forest. If I kept going for long enough, I was certain that I would eventually come across somebody – a park ranger, another camper – who would be able to help me.

  Chapter3

  If I had so much as blinked at the wrong moment, I am sure I would have missed the cabin entirely. Covered in moss and thick tree roots, it was so imbedded in the forest, it could very easily be mistaken for nothing more than a rabbits’ warren, or a fox hole. Certainly not the dwelling of a human being. But by that point, my senses had been sharpened so acutely by fear and adrenaline, even the dimmest light of a single flickering candle glowing through a murky window shone like the beacon in a lighthouse, beckoning and calling out to me through the cloying darkness of the impending evening.

  I stumbled towards it, tripping over a long branch at the last moment, and falling headfirst through the make-shift door and crashing into the small hideout in a cloud of splinters and powdered dead leaves. I lay there, unmoving – being horizontal was surprisingly pleasant – and would have quite happily stayed there indefinitely, had it not been for two strong hands closing around my arms and hauling me back to my feet, the fingers digging painfully into my flesh. I scowled deeply at the stranger and tried to wriggle out of the grip, but this only served to cause the fingers to tighten even further, making me gasp out loud in pain.

  “Hey!”

  The man before me bared his teeth and gave me a little shake. “Hey,” he echoed, his voice gruff and hoarse as though he were not used to speaking. “Hey.”

  I blinked, and he blinked back at me. Our eyes narrowed as we searched each other’s faces, trying to suss the other out. It was like communicating – or trying to communicate – with a wild animal. Like when you find yourself nose to nose with a squirrel, when neither one of you dares to move first for fear of breaking the spell. And certainly it was some degree of magic that connected us to one another in that moment. I found myself bound and held tight by the intensity of his gaze, his eyes wide and bright, and so dark they were almost black. I could feel myself falling headlong into them, sinking deeper and deeper into the bottomless pools. I failed to even noticed that he had let go of my arms, so enraptured was I.

  “Who are you?” he demanded in his rasping way, breaking the spell and bringing me out of my reverie. “What d’you want?”

  “I…” I licked my lips, my heart juddering in my chest. “I’ve lost my… I’ve lost my mom.” I winced inwardly at how utterly pathetic that sounds. I was twenty-two, for god sake! Not five years old!

  I fully expected to be laughed at loudly – that sure would have been my reaction if I was him – but, instead, his brow creased in immediate concern and he ushered me deeper into his ‘hut’ – although now I could see it properly, it seemed more like a cave than anything else, with its stone walls and fern-carpeted floors.

  “Tell me,” he said, sitting down amongst the rushes and ferns and bidding me do the same with a gesture of a hand. “You came for help. So tell me.” His voice was urgent, almost eager, as though he had been waiting keenly for this.

  I eased myself down next to him, the lack of space making it so I could not position myself without some part of my body touching his. He didn’t seem to care, so I decided not to too. The circumstances were too dire to be prudish about such things.

  And so, in the flickering light of the candle perched on a rocky outlay well out of the way of the dried leaves, with our knees touching, I carefully recalled everything that had lead up to this moment to the wild stranger I had met only moments ago. Once I started, everything seemed to just flow out of me, like poison being bled out of a wound, until there was not a single thing left to say and I felt light and dizzy with the relief of it.

  He listened without moving or speaking, not even interrupting when I went off on a tangent and told him, in minute detail, how I had never known my father and how my mother had never provided me with a decent, strong role-model in my life, which was definitely the cause of all my crippling self-doubt. If I had been him, I would have told myself to shut up. But he didn’t. He was as patient and tentative an audience as I could have wished for, doing a far better job than any of the countless therapists that had been inflicted upon me at one time or another.

  When eventually I ran out of steam, the silence rung about our ears like a bell. I waited with forced patience for his response, for his verdict, for the plan of action that would save the day. I waited and waited, the seconds stretching out into minutes, but all I received in return for my tale was a long, thoughtful silence.

  “Hmm,” he said after several minutes. “Hmm…”

  The nerve in my temple twitched.

  “Hmm what?” I demanded, my temper flaring. “Are you going to help me? What am I going to do? What do you think?”

  With his head cocked to one side, he contemplated me calmly, entirely nonplussed by the way I had snapped at him, then asked, “Do you know anything about wolves?”

  “Wolves?” My heart lurched as I remembered the howls. “I heard some, I think,
earlier. A whole lot of them. It sounded like they were…singing?” I shook my head. “I chased after them, but they were gone long before I got there.” I hesitated, chewing my lip, before continuing tremulously, “Is that what you think it is? Do you think wolves went off with my mother?”

  He nodded. “I can think of no other explanation,” he said as though it were the most casual thing in the world. “It is that time of year.”

  “What do you mean?” Nothing about this conversation was reassuring me. “Time of year for what?”

  “Winter has nearly fallen,” the man explained slowly, his tone bordering on patronizing. “Soon it will be time to sleep ‘til spring. All creatures need to eat, even in winter. Stores must be made now. Every forester knows not to make themselves conspicuous at this time. You were a fool to bring your mother here at this time.”

  I flinched, the callousness of his words was like a slap to the face. “You’re saying this is my fault?” I spluttered, open-mouthed with utter disbelief. “Fuck you! Fuck you! Don’t help then! I’ll do it by myself. I’ll find her, and if she’s already dead, I’ll kill those bastard wolves too!” I hauled myself up, shaking with anger, and made to storm out. “Thanks a lot for your help.”

  A bark of laughter emitted from his mouth, and then another and another until the man was doubled over in uncontrollable amusement. My cheeks blazed with humiliation. “What?”

  Still chuckling, he stood up. “So, you’re well equipped to just walk into a werewolf pack, are you?” he asked, the corners of his eyes crinkling in mirth. “You think you’re even strong enough to be able to defend yourself against them, let alone kill them?” Shaking his head, his folded his great arms around his broad chest, his expression suddenly serious. “Go home, girl,” he told me. “Go home and mourn your mother in safety. There is nothing that can be done for her now.”

  My head was swimming with all his words, not one of them quite making sense. “You’re insane,” I whispered, as much to myself as to him, backing out towards the broken door. A Wildman talking about werewolves… I had been crazy to think I could look to him for help. For all I knew, he had taken Mom himself. It would not surprise me.

  In the moment before I turned and ran, he flashed me the widest grin, bearing the largest, sharpest teeth that I had ever seen on another human-being. I knew that he would have no difficulty tearing a raw carcass to pieces. Bile rising dangerously in my throat, I clambered over the broken wood of the door and pelted as fast as I could in the opposite direction.

  I was trapped in a nightmare, I was certain of it. The sky was starless; the trees were no more than looming shapes that clawed at me from behind shadows; I was going nowhere. I was sure that it was only a matter of time before I awoke with a jolt, sweat-soaked and trembling, but safe in my own bed – the trip and everything that had happened since we had arrived, no more than a fading dream.

  But that was okay. That meant that, no matter what happened, I was safe. In dreams, nothing can touch you no matter how real they are or how frightening they can become. They are finite. They will end. They will… They will…

  A low growl rose up out of the thick darkness and stopped me sharply, rooting my feet to the frozen ground.

  “It’s just a dream,” I murmured out loud, the words ghosting in the frost before me. “It’s not real. It’s just a dream. Just a-” I screamed as the howl pierced the silence, the haunting sharpness of it freezing me from the inside out and filling me with utter terror. It was the sound I had been chasing only hours before, now closer, now aimed at me – a warning and a promise of danger. The wolves’ song.

  I should have listened to the Wildman. I should have run to safety. I was going to die in the salivating jaws of a hundred wolves. Just like my mother. I was going to end up just like her.

  I clenched my teeth, every muscle in my body going rigid in terrified anticipation, as the soft crunching of paws on dead leaves reached my ears. Even though I had still yet to see even one, I could hear them stalking around me on both sides until I was entirely surrounded by a ring of soft, sinister growling. There was nowhere to run – not that I had the physical capability to out run even one hungry wolf, let alone a whole pack. I was done for. Utterly and completely fucked.

  I closed my eyes tight shut just as the first pair of bright, amber eyes set deep in a long-snouted shaggy grey face. If this was to be the end, I didn’t want to see it.

  The wolves started to snap and snarl, and I could feel almost feel the sharpness of their fangs through the timbre of the sound. One barked so close to my ear that I could feel the heat of its breath on my neck, the stench of blood so pungent in my nostrils I almost gagged.

  But I forced myself to remain still and calm. Perfectly composed.

  I waited for the claws that I knew were coming to pin me down. I waited for the teeth I knew were coming to rip into my throat. I waited for the death I knew was coming to release me from this blanket of fear I had become entrapped in.

  And then there was silence – a sudden, sharp silence that forced my eyelids to open just the tiniest of cracks. I knew nothing of wolves, or of their habits, but this seemed peculiar. I found myself looking at a shining wet nose on the end of a long snout. A neat set of canines made my stomach give an uncomfortable jolt, but the wolf’s attention was not on me, just inches away, but on something behind my back. Unwilling to move just in case I caught its interest again, I strained my eyes to look around at the pack encircling me. None of them were looking at me. Each face was pointed towards something seemingly just above my shoulder, and each expression – half-hidden behind varying shades of shaggy grey fur – was alert with surprise. Whatever it was behind me, and I dreaded to consider the possibilities, had managed to alarm the wolves. And whatever it was that had the power to alarm a pack of bloodthirsty carnivores was certain to be no friend of mine.

  The wolf seemed to be considering the intruder careful. Its eyes were flicking back and forth, and I could almost see it thinking. Then its lips pulled back in a snarl – not the triumphant snarl of a beast about to take down its prey as I had heard before, but a fearsome snarl of warning and a signal to its pack that the danger must be taken down. Immediately. Its packmates took up the call at once, and soon the air around me was throbbing with the wolves’ single-voiced growl.

  Behind me, the roar of a different creature responded, declaring war with the utmost certainty. There would be no truce, no mercy. There was to be a fight and that fight was to be now.

  I ducked with a yelp as the wolf bent down and then sprung up into the air, sailing smoothly over my head and throwing itself bodily at the intruder, its claws extended and its jaws wide open ready for battle.

  Only then, safely forgotten, did I allow myself to move. I twisted around and found myself face to face with a bear. It had drawn itself up to its full height, which must have been at least ten feet. I had to crane my neck upwards to so much as glimpse its face, which seemed tiny and isolated in the middle of a huge expanse of deep dark fur. It seemed to almost embrace the wolf as the creature hurled itself straight at the bear’s throat, not wasting a moment and going straight for the killing strike.

  The wolf barely grazed the thick brown fur before the bear raised its paw and dealt the smaller animal a brutal blow to the head, sending it flying back to ground with a crash and a whimper. This sent its pack mates into a snapping, snarling frenzy, although it seemed that they were under some sort of instruction not to move. The air around us was a quiver of pent up energy as the leader – I assumed the fallen wolf was the leader as it was far bigger than any of the others – struggled to right itself, its tongue falling from its mouth as it panted heavily, struggling for breath from the pain of the impact of landing on its back.

  We all watched – the other wolves, the bear and I – and waited for the wolf-leader to make its next move. The bear was obviously refusing to strike first, the smaller wolves had been forbidden to join in the fray… There was some sort of tacit agreement be
tween the two groups, some sort of truce that could not be broken. But the leader-wolf was bristling with fury, its hackles raised, and would not be contained by the same rules that the others were deferring to. Shivering with anger and pain, it slunk in a wide circle around the bear, its eyes – bright with malice – never leaving wavering from its enemy. The bear watched it with equal intensity, its own lips drawn back in a silent, warning snarl.

  But the wolf would heed no warning. It had been grievously insulted, and it would have its revenge.

  Holding itself low, it slashed at the bear’s legs with long, scythe-like claws – first one and then the other in quick succession. With a howl of pain, the bear fell heavily onto all fours, the ground shaking with the impact of its great weight. Great gashes – long and deep – were already oozing with thick dark blood which seeped down its ankles and matted its fur. The sight of the wounds made my own skin tingle in sympathy, all too aware of how that could easily be my own fate. One slash of a paw. That’s all it would take.

  As the wolf continued to stalk its foe in a wide circle, carefully calculating the perfect moment to strike, I knew that I could run if I wanted to. I had been forgotten completely by that point. But whilst my mind knew it and considered it, my feet were firmly rooted to the ground and refused to budge an inch. I could slip away, I tried to tell them desperately. Before the fight’s over and they realise they’re hungry again… There’s still a chance of survival.

  But they would not comply, and I was forced to stand there – like a deer caught in headlights – and watch this great war of nature taking place around me. I was no part of this, and yet I was caught up in the middle of it all.

  The wolf stopped, considered its position for a moment, shuffled back on its haunches, and then leapt once more. It sprung high into the air, twisting its neck to get a good angle with its teeth. I saw the bear flinch as the wolf landed on its back and its jaw closed around the scruff of its neck, holding fast. My heart thuddered in my breast, and I found myself praying for the bear that saved me. There was no way that wolf would be letting go until the bear was dead, its jaws and determination were stronger than iron, and it was safely out of reach of both the bear’s claws and its teeth. The battle was all but over. The rest was merely a formality, and it seemed that the wolf’s pack mates thought the same. Their voice rose in a single unified howl of triumph, calling out their victory for all the forest to hear. No doubt they would do the same when they delivered the final blow to me too. Maybe that’s what they were singing about earlier… maybe I had been listening to the moment they murdered my mother.