by Jade Allen
“I am calm.”
He reached for her hand, holding it tightly as he met her eyes. “You’re not. You’re upset and you’re hungry. Concentrate on your breathing and slow your heart rate. You need to have control over yourself.”
“She has no right to talk to you that way.”
“I know. Take a deep breath. Good. Yeah. Just like that.”
“How are you going to help me if I’m never allowed to see you?”
Dean squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry about that. I want you to concentrate on this moment, right now. Don’t think about your mother. Don’t think about tomorrow. You watched Peter Pan, right?”
“Of course.”
“Find your happy thought.”
Dean. The texture of his roughened hands, the way the sun lined his face and crinkled his eyes, the shape of his lips, and the smooth, velvety sound of his voice as he offered her his reassurances. Dean was her happy thought. Concentrating on him had the desired effect, and she felt herself beginning to calm down.
“I’m here,” he murmured, “and I’m not going anywhere.”
She believed him. She believed in him, as he believed in her. That may be the one bright spot she had, but it was as bright and warm as the sun.
****
The first week of July was the biggest week of the year for Cody, Wyoming. Summer tourists and rodeo fans kept the small town busy throughout the summer, but the population swelled beyond the borders for the Independence Day celebrations. Cowboys and cowgirls, clowns and queens, fans and dreamers all flocked to Cody for one of the biggest professional rodeos in the States.
Anna kept up a good business throughout the summer, but it was the 4th of July weekend that kept her in the black. The food truck was slammed with hungry customers from the minute she opened it until the minute they ran out of food. Over the holiday weekend, she never closed the truck down until there wasn’t a single bite of anything left to serve. That reality, and that reality alone, was the reason Anna allowed Marisol to leave her room and return to the arena.
There were several conditions, however. Marisol was not allowed to leave the truck to watch any of the events—and that included bull riding. She was not allowed to venture away from the truck or out of her mother’s sight. She wasn’t even allowed to go to the pens after the rodeo to find her father and help him back to the truck, as she had done every night for the past ten years.
The twenty-two year old chafed against these rules and conditions, biting her tongue hard to keep from protesting as her mother continued to spell out the requirements for her parole. It went without saying that Marisol was to have no contact with Dean Longstrider, but her mother did say it. Several times. At length.
It would have been too much to tolerate. Marisol had seen Dean every night for the past week, and after her parents went to sleep, he arrived, positioning himself beneath her window, promising to keep her safe. They couldn’t risk speaking to each other, but they sent texts back and forth until she finally fell asleep, knowing he was there for her. Knowing he would stop her from harming anybody.
He couldn’t stop her dreams, though. Vivid, exhilarating, and terrifying, they consumed her sleeping hours, taking her far from the comforts of her bed, her home, and her family. In her dreams, she traveled through the woods and into the mountains, across the badlands and over the plains. She roamed the west, searching land she’d never encountered before, discovering a life she could not articulate during her waking hours. When she woke, the images remained fresh, and her nose tingled, too weak to pick up the dimensions, the nuances, of her human life.
Dean wasn’t there when she woke on the morning of July 1st. The summer sun slanted through her room, warming her face and toes, promising to keep the day hot and bright. She emerged from bed with the customary excitement the first week of July always brought to her heart. That excitement stayed with her as she showered and dressed, not dissipating until she joined her family for breakfast.
Her mother didn’t hum or sing under her breath as she prepared the meal, and she served Marisol her plate without so much as a smile. Marisol’s heart sank to her stomach as she remembered that this year, there would be no 4th of July celebration for her. Whether or not her mother was still angry that Marisol disappeared with Dean for a day, she couldn’t say for sure, but clearly, there was still no forgiveness.
Marisol could handle the anger. She could even cope with the drudgery of working and not seeing Dean or the bull rides. But she couldn’t cope with keeping her secret from her parents. She couldn’t live with the silent treatment. Her father barely spoke to her, though when he did, it was without the edge that constantly sharpened her mother’s tone. She would give anything to fix the situation, but she was unequipped, having never been on the receiving end of her parents’ anger or disappointment. How could she share her secret in this state? How could she ask for their much needed support or guidance?
Since discovering that the spirit of the bear dwelled within her, she’d debated several tactics to reveal the truth. But what would be the point? Her parents would disown her and likely alert the University to the fact that she was a shifter. She could face suspension—or worse—if the school learned of that. But then, perhaps that was for the best. Dean couldn’t follow her all the way back to Laramie and sleep outside her window every night to stop her from maiming and eating innocent people. She was too dangerous to be allowed on campus and too miserable to stay home.
Dean had explained to her at great length that it was imperative for her to continue to eat as much as possible. “Take second helpings of everything and never, ever miss a meal,” he warned. Considering how little she ate compared to what a bear needed to be satisfied, it seemed pointless to worry about skipping a meal here or there, but she’d asked him for his help, and so she did her best to follow his advice.
But the food turned to sawdust in her mouth and the tension around the table stifled her appetite.
“Big crowd in town for tonight,” Ernesto said. “You need to do a supply run?”
“Nope,” Anna answered, “we’re fully stocked.”
Marisol crunched on her bacon.
“I’m heading over to the arena early today.” He looked to Marisol. “Do you want to come with?”
Marisol swallowed her bacon, her gaze jumping from her father to her mother and back again. When Anna didn’t jump in and declare that Marisol was not allowed to leave the house under punishment of death, she nodded. “Yes, I’d love to.”
“Well, finish up your breakfast.”
She tucked away the rest of the food, her heart hammering with excitement. It reminded her of when she was a little girl; back then, she had always felt so grown up when he asked her to join him at the rodeo grounds. Now if only her parents could recognize that she was no longer that little girl, safely tied to her mother’s apron strings.
Once her breakfast was consumed, she washed her plate, kissed her mother’s cheek, and followed her father into the summer sun. Marisol had the feeling he wanted to start a conversation, but she kept her eyes down and her mouth shut as they walked. If she opened her mouth, she feared everything—the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth—would spill out.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Marisol blinked, so surprised she forgot the weight of her secret for the first time in a week.
“When you disappeared and we couldn’t find you,” he continued, his voice low, “we both panicked. And I’ve never panicked before in my life. I never had a reason to.”
“Daddy, you’re a bull fighter.”
“I never panicked in the arena. That’s how people get hurt. Or worse.” He shook his head. “No, I never panicked in front of a bull, and I never panicked over you. You’re the best daughter a man could ask for—hell, you never even gave me a single gray hair. Then, one morning, you weren’t home. You weren’t at the grounds. And you weren’t with the bulls.”
Mari’s lip had started to quiver by th
e second sentence, as she thought about how brave her dad was, and by the time he finished speaking, she was sobbing over how scared she was. “I’m...I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...I never...never...meant…” Her temples throbbed and she couldn’t catch her breath.
“Shh, shh.” Ernesto wrapped his arms around her, simply holding her until she managed to gasp for breath. “What has happened, mija?”
“I’m sorry… I had to go. I had to... I had to know if... if…”
“If what? What has happened?”
“That morning... I woke up.” She swallowed hard, pushing the tears away and trying to gather her thoughts through the pain in her skull. “I woke up and I wasn’t at home. I was in the park by the arena. And I... oh, Daddy, there was so much blood. There was so much blood and it wasn’t mine… but I was... I was covered…”
“Oh, Mari. Oh mija.” He clutched her closer, and she realized her fears had been unwarranted. She should have confided in him from the beginning. “Dean took you to his uncle, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“And what did Rory say?”
“He said I’m… I’m a bear,” she whispered. “And I’ve been so scared, Dad.”
“Oh, honey, it’s—”
“I killed that man.” She pulled back and blinked the fresh tears from her eyes, trying to focus on her father’s face. “I keep expecting Sheriff Walker to pull into the driveway. Dean’s been watching the house at night, making sure I don’t go out, but what if I attack you? Or Mama? I haven’t been able to sleep. Dean told me to keep eating, but my stomach is in knots. I feel sick all the time.”
“So you’ve been seeing Dean?”
“Daddy, please don’t be angry. He’s been keeping me safe.”
“I’m not angry. I’m...I’m relieved he’s been here to help. You needed somebody and I’ve been acting like a big baby.”
Marisol frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“I should have known from the beginning that there was something wrong.” Ernesto brushed hair away from her brow. “That you would never run off with some cowboy.”
“It’s not like that.” For most of the last week, when she hadn’t been agonizing over her new identity as a bear shifter, she’d been agonizing over Dean—specifically their single kiss, and how much more she wanted. She craved him and she’d silently cursed his name a million times over while her body burned for his touch. But now, she was thankful he’d insisted they stopped. At least she didn’t have to lie to her father.
“Yes, I understand that now. He’s a good man. And if anybody can help you, it would be a Longstrider.”
“How am I going to tell Mama?”
“I’ll talk to your mother.”
“Can I watch the rodeo tonight?”
“Of course. It’s the 4th of July.”
Mari felt her mouth readjust itself into a smile. “Can I see Dean?”
“Yes. In fact, I think we should go see him together. We have much to discuss.”
They resumed walking towards the arena, Mari gripping her father’s hand. “Daddy, how is this possible? Are you a shifter?”
He shook his head. “No, I’m not—but it can skip a generation. Sometimes even two. Your great-grandmother was a shifter. So are two uncles and three cousins.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“For the same reason you won’t tell me the truth about Dean. And you should know, all three of your cousins graduated from college. There will be some adjustments, but that doesn’t have to stop you from achieving your dreams.”
“They might not let me on campus.”
“Then you can take classes online.” He squeezed her hand and smiled down at her. “We’ll figure it out. I promise.”
Mari returned his smile through her drying tears. Her skin felt hot and tight and her head still throbbed, but her burden didn’t feel so heavy and each step was lighter than the one before.
****
When Ernie and Mari came knocking on his trailer door, Dean knew Mari had finally found the courage to tell her father the truth. Ralph and Waldo were eating breakfast at the narrow table, and he gestured to them to get out before opening the door.
“Good morning, Mari. Sir.”
“Good morning, Dean. May we come in?” Ernesto asked.
“Of course.” He stepped back and allowed them to enter. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Yes, thank you,” Mari said, shooting a shy smile at Dean’s brothers. They quickly gathered up their cards, greeted the visitors, and ducked out of the trailer before Dean could give them another warning look. Dean poured three cups of coffee and invited them to have a seat.
“I reckon you know why we’re here,” Ernesto said.
He looked at Ernie warily. “I have a guess.”
“I want to thank you for helping Mari. Especially since I wasn’t there for her when she needed me.”
Dean released a long breath. “It was the right thing to do. Especially since she’s my friend.”
Ernesto sipped his black coffee and leaned forward. “Do you think she killed anybody?”
“Nope.”
Mari jerked like his answer surprised her. “But I was covered in blood.”
“That doesn’t mean you killed anybody,” Dean said. “And you haven’t shifted in the past week or been a danger to anybody. I don’t think you went out and killed that man.”
“What do you think happened?” Mari asked.
“I think you smelled the blood and went to find it. I think whoever killed poor Curt was the same bear that killed old Red,” Dean answered.
“But how do you know?” Mari pressed.
“Because there were two sets of human prints where Red was killed. Whoever killed him shifted once they got to the edge of town.”
Ernesto nodded. “So there’s another bear in town.”
“I believe so.”
Ernesto narrowed his eyes, his gaze holding Dean’s. “Was it you?”
“No. I have my shifting completely under control. I only shift when I want to, and I don’t hunt humans.”
“Can you teach me how to do that?” Mari asked.
Dean didn’t answer her right away, and he didn’t look away from Ernesto. He wanted the older man to understand him; to understand that Dean had trusted him with his life, and that he could trust Dean with the most precious thing in his life: Marisol. Dean wanted nothing more than to keep her safe—both from the world and from her herself. He would continue to protect her and help her with or without Ernesto’s approval, but it would be much easier if he had her father’s support.
“I can help you. It’ll take some time, but you’ll never have to be afraid of losing control of yourself. Does your mother know?”
Mari shook her head. “Not yet.”
“It’s important to get rid of any stress. I know there’s been some...tension in the house,” Dean said carefully. “Right now is a very delicate time.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Ernesto promised.
“We also need to make sure you’re eating right after you shift,” Dean continued. “A side of beef would be ideal.”
“I can take care of that, too.” Ernesto finished his coffee with a gulp and stood. “In fact, I was on my way over to visit with Chad O’Brian and his sons; I’ll arrange for them to deliver some fresh beef to the house.” He leaned down and kissed Mari’s cheek. “I’ll see you tonight after the rodeo.”
She smiled. “I love you, Daddy.”
“Love you, too, mija.” He shook Dean’s hand and ducked out of the narrow trailer, finally leaving the two alone.
Dean released his breath in a long sigh. “God, you’re looking pretty today.”
Mari’s cheeks darkened and her smile was both pleased and shy. “Oh stop. My eyes are puffy and my nose is runny.”
“I don’t care how puffy your eyes are. I’ve missed seeing you.”
“I’ve missed you, too. And I’ve missed watching you ride. I’m so gla
d I get to see you tonight.”
He reached across the table, taking her hand in his. Her fingers were callused from a lifetime of work, but they felt so nice entwined with his equally rough fingers. Holding her gaze with his, he brought her hand to his mouth and placed a soft kiss on each knuckle. She caught her breath, and he realized he was holding his own breath as he kissed a path back from her pinky to her thumb.
“We need to... talk,” Marisol said, her words breathy.
“Mmmhmm.” They had a lot to talk about—Dean couldn’t dispute that fact. But he didn’t want to use words; he wanted to communicate with her on a deeper level.
He wanted to get to know her body better.
The back of her hand was warm and smelled of lavender, but he wanted to kiss the rest of her supple body, wanted to learn her most intimate scents, wanted to feel every inch of her. In the back of his mind, he calculated how much time they had before his brothers would return or before her father came back to collect her.
“Dean, we need to talk about how I can keep myself safe,” she continued, though her voice was halting.
“Mmmhmmm.” He turned her hand over and kissed the center of her palm. The tension drained from her arm as his lips lingered over her skin, moving to her wrist. Her pulse pounded against the kiss, her heartbeat increasing, her blood rushing hot. His senses were always in a heightened state—and just then, he wondered if she ever noticed her own special abilities—and her arousal only sharpened his own hunger.
She wants you, a voice from deep inside told him. She wants you, and you could have her right now. Right here on this table.
The thought made his groin tighten and his pants suddenly felt two sizes too small. He shifted in his seat, but nothing would relieve the pressure short of unzipping his fly. And nothing would soothe the throbbing ache except finally taking her. Claiming her. Making her his.
Dean took a deep breath and forced himself to stop, lifting his head and gently lowering her hand to the table. She looked at him with heavy-lidded eyes, and he could see her hard nipples through the thin cotton of her T-shirt—which didn’t help his self-control or the bulge in his jeans.