by Meg Ripley
Unless the sensible explanation was that Marisol was a bear shifter.
How would she face that? How would her mother ever forgive her? She’d probably call the sheriff herself and send Marisol away. She’d probably think that was a better solution than letting her daughter run wild.
Suddenly, home didn’t seem like the safest, or smartest, answer.
She had only one friend who might understand: Dean. He was a Longstrider, and even if he hadn’t admitted to being a bear himself, he would definitely know more about what happened than anybody else. But she couldn’t run through town covered in blood and looking like an extra from a horror movie. She couldn’t linger there at the scene any longer, either. It was still early, but soon the whole town would be waking up, and she was only a few blocks from the heart of the small community.
Just then, the ding from her phone almost made her jump out of her skin. She fumbled it out of her pocket with numb fingers. There was a new crack in the corner of the screen, but otherwise it was fine. The message was from Rachel, asking her if she finally got a ride on her cowboy. Marisol ignored the question and searched for Dean in her contact list. The phone rang five times and she almost hung up, but the sixth ring was answered with a sleepy, “Hello?”
“Dean. Dean, it’s me. Something’s happened. I...I don’t know what. But something...I need your help!”
“Where are you?” The sleepy rasp was gone from his voice.
“Near the park on the east side.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No...no, I don’t think so. But Dean, I can’t stay here. It’s bad. It’s real, real, real bad.”
“Okay, sit tight. I’ll be there in just a minute.”
“God, thank you,” she said quickly before the call cut out. Okay, it’ll be okay, she reassured herself again and again. Somehow, someway, they would figure out a way to make this okay.
Dean was true to his word. He pulled up to her within minutes, his chest bare, like he hadn’t even taken the time to put on a shirt. His eyes widened when he saw her, and she rushed to say, “The blood isn’t mine. I think...there’s a man...he’s over there. It’s his. I don’t know. I don’t know what happened.”
“Slow down. Take a deep breath. Just get in the truck. Here, cover yourself with this blanket. We’re going to get you cleaned up and then we’re going to get to the bottom of this. Just tell me everything you know.”
“I don’t know anything. I woke up and I was here.”
“Well, we’ll just have to work backwards from there.” He studied her for a moment before asking in a softer tone, “How do you feel?”
“Feel?”
“Yes, feel. What does your body feel like right now?”
“It...it feels full.” She looked at Dean, her eyes brimming with tears. “What does this mean? What have I done?”
“Maybe nothing. There’s a man who can help us. He’s in Jackson.”
“Let’s go.”
“What about your parents?”
She shook her head; she’d deal with them later. Before she could deal with them, though, she needed to know what was happening to her. She had so many questions that an answer—any answer—would be a huge relief. “Take me wherever we need to go.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
****
Rory Longstrider had once been a very big deal. He’d won two world championships with his brother Derek as a team roper, and then once Derek was banished from the professional rodeo association, Rory went on to conquer the world of bull riding. He’d won more money on the circuit than anybody before him and his record stood for ten solid years after his retirement. A man who saw Rory ride could still get a free beer in most towns in Wyoming, as long as he was willing to talk about the legend who could not be thrown from any bull.
The legend himself did not discuss bulls, or the rodeo, or his championship rides. And he especially did not discuss his brother. There were a lot of questions about Derek; a lot of rumors and gossip, fueled by the public display of his powers and his abrupt and mysterious disappearance. Rory kept to himself on his ranch outside of Jackson, breeding and selling racehorses, and he didn’t have anything to do with the rodeo.
“Doesn’t he ever watch you ride?” Marisol asked.
“Nope. Never.”
“How can that be?”
Dean looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Did you think the old man mentored me?”
“Something like that.”
“No. He doesn’t approve.”
“He doesn’t approve? That seems a bit—”
“Hypocritical?”
“Exactly.”
“Now you see why we don’t talk much.”
“Oh.” Marisol fidgeted with the hem of her truck stop sweatshirt. They’d stopped outside of Cody at a Top Stop so she could clean up and change, and Dean had taken the opportunity to call Rory while he waited.
Rory answered on the second ring. Despite the tension between them, Rory was the type of man who always answered his phone—even if what Dean had to say made him wish he hadn’t.
“Oh what?”
“I just...will he be unhappy to see us?”
“No, don’t worry about that. He knows we’re coming and he wants to help you.”
“Why doesn’t he approve? Is it because it’s too dangerous?”
Dean took a deep breath and considered telling her the truth, but at this point, he didn’t know if she would welcome the news as comforting, or if it would only add to her anxiety. Still, he didn’t want to lie to her. He’d lie to the rest of the world, but he wanted her to know the truth.
“You’ve heard of my father.” Dean snorted. “Heard of him… hell, you probably saw him.”
“I have. Quite a few times.”
“And you saw him the night he—”
“Turned into a bear? Yes. A bull had jumped over the fence and into the stands. Suddenly, there was a big grizzly in the middle of the crowd. It was...scary.”
“Yeah, I bet it was. Well, my old man never rode any bulls because bulls always brought out the bear in him. Rory, he rode bulls because he wanted to prove to the world there was no bear in him at all.”
“What about you? Why do you ride?”
Dean checked his rearview mirror and frowned. “Hey, you don’t think your mom would have called the cops, do you?”
“Why?” Marisol’s head whipped around. “God! How long has that cruiser been following us?”
“A few miles. But I’m doing the speed limit.”
“I don’t know. Even if she did call the sheriff, what would she tell him? That her grown daughter has left the house? I don’t think that’s illegal.” Marisol sighed. “I know she’s just worried about me but...I’ve got too much on my mind to worry about her. And you didn’t answer my question.”
“What question was that?”
“Why do you ride?”
“Because I want to. Would you do it… if you had the chance?”
“Ride a bull? Hell yeah, I would.”
“Of course you would. And there’s just nothing else like it.”
“Not even sex?”
“It depends on the night. Depends on the ride.”
Marisol’s laugh was cut short by a wide yawn.
“Are you tired?” Dean asked. “Why don’t you get some sleep?”
“I’m okay, I’m just—” she yawned again and blinked at him. “I think it’s the road.”
“Go ahead and close your eyes. When you wake up, we’ll be there.”
Dean was true to his word. When she opened her eyes again, they were parked outside of Rory’s secluded cabin in Jackson. The sun was sinking lower and the shadows were long over the man’s face as he walked out to meet them.
“I still feel sleepy,” she muttered.
“I know. Rory needs to talk to you, then you can take another nap,” Dean promised as he stepped out of the truck. She was still blinking heavily when he opened her door and helped her to the ground. Rory offere
d his hand with a warm smile.
“Howdy, ma’am. You had a long drive. Can I get you some water? Or maybe a beer?”
“Water, please.”
Rory was a tall man and he absolutely towered over Marisol. He offered his arm, escorting her up the gravel driveway to his cabin. Dean followed a few paces back, listening as Rory asked about the drive up from Cody. Marisol answered, shooting a curious look over her shoulder to Dean; he nodded and gave her the most reassuring smile he could. Marisol returned his smile, but he could see the trepidation in her eyes. She was probably wondering when the exam would start, but Rory knew everything he needed to know by the time they reached the cabin’s door.
He ushered Marisol inside and paused to take Dean by the arm. “I need to talk to this girl. Go out to the shed and get my rawhide bag. The one by the door.”
“Is she…?”
“We’ll know soon enough. Now go. Don’t dawdle.”
Dean was already taking long strides across the yard. His phone sounded just as he reached the shed. A text from his brother. There’s been another murder. They’re looking for a bear.
Dean wrote back. Sit tight. Keep your head down. Everything will be fine.
****
“Everything’s a disaster. My life is...it’s ruined.” Marisol lifted her eyes to meet Dean’s, but she couldn’t stand to look at him for more than a second. Rory’s solemn declaration still echoed in her head, twisting her stomach into new and interesting knots with every beat of her heart.
“Your life is not ruined,” Dean said softly.
“How will I tell my parents? The sheriff will probably want to arrest me for killing that poor man. I’ll never be allowed back on the rodeo grounds again. They might kick me out of school if they deem me too much of a threat.” She ran her hands through her hair. “Why did this happen to me? How could this happen to me?”
“Your parents will understand. Mari, you have nothing to be ashamed of. This isn’t your fault.”
“Well, whose fault is it? How did it happen?”
Dean shrugged. “It’s nobody’s fault. It just...happened. One of your parents may carry the gene. Hell, they both might. It might just be dormant in them.”
“But...if I’m a bear shifter, wouldn’t I have always been?”
“You’ve always been a bear shifter, but you may not have had the ability to shift until now.”
Dean had been calm and reasonable since the moment Rory gave her the news. He’d told her there was no way to be completely positive until somebody actually saw her shift, but he added, “I’m still pretty damned sure.” Marisol had managed to keep her tears at bay until they were on the road, but now they streamed down without stopping. She wiped them away, but her fear kept the pump primed.
“Dean, what am I going to do?”
“You’re going to live your life. You’re going to find a way to control it and you’re going to continue to be Marisol. Beautiful, intelligent, sweet, wonderful Marisol.”
“You think I’m beautiful?”
“Well, yeah. Of course.”
“And wonderful?”
“I think you’re the most wonderful girl I know.”
“Even though I’m a bear?”
“That makes no difference to me.”
She paused. “Are… you a bear?”
Instead of answering, Dean signaled and moved into the exit lane that led to a nearly abandoned rest stop. He parked on the opposite end, away from the two idling semis, and turned the ignition off. They sat in silence for a few moments as the engine ticked and Marisol licked her lips, waiting for the answer that a part of her already knew.
“Yes, I’m a bear. Nobody knows but my family. And I’d like to keep it that way. If anybody knew—”
“You would be banned from the rodeo.”
“Yeah.”
“So how do you keep it under control? Can you...can you teach me?”
“Of course.” He reached for her hand. “I’ll teach you everything I know.”
Marisol looked down, transfixed by the way his thumb moved over the back of her hand. Perhaps he intended the gesture to be soothing, but it was having the opposite effect on her. A chill raced down her spine as her cheeks flushed. As silence settled between them, she realized it was her turn to talk, but she couldn’t summon any words.
“I want to kiss you right now,” Dean said, his voice low and tight.
She licked her lips. “What’s stopping you?”
“You’re my friend.”
“We’ll still be friends after you kiss me.” She unconsciously leaned into him, and he shifted forward and their mouths were only an inch away. She inhaled and caught the scent of him—the full scent of skin and sweat and blood beneath the superficial smell of aftershave and horses.
“Mari.” The rumble of her name from his throat was like music to her, pulling her forward until their mouths finally touched. She’d had a few awkward, closed-mouth kisses before; kisses that did nothing for her except make her believe that kissing was a ridiculous custom that she hated. But her lips almost immediately parted under the pressure of his, and she melted at the first brush of his tongue.
Marisol felt a strange sense of déja vu, though she’d never been kissed so thoroughly before in her life—like maybe they’d exchanged these sweet caresses in a dream. She leaned in as close as she could, all too aware of the empty space between them, the void where their bodies didn’t touch. She needed his heat, needed to feel the texture of his skin and the rhythm of the blood coursing through his veins. He seemed as hungry as she was, his hands running over her arms, her shoulders, down her back. He touched her everywhere a friend might leave a casual caress, and she strained forward, hoping to guide his hands to her breasts and her aching nipples.
When they finally broke apart, she was left gasping and wanting more. Dean’s breathing seemed labored, too, and his large fingers curled around her arms, holding her with almost bruising strength.
“We...God, Mari, we have to stop.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s getting dark. We can’t...I don’t want to do this here.”
“This? Kiss?”
Dean shook his head. “You must know I want to do more than kiss you. Look what you do to me, Mari.”
He took his hand and guided it to his rock hard erection. She gasped at the feel of him, curling her fingers slightly. He moaned at the pressure, even through his jeans, and she completely forgot they were supposed to stop. It was getting dark and her parents were waiting, but she wanted to rip his zipper open and push her fingers through the fly to find his hot flesh. She tingled at the thought, her body clenching and trembling with anticipation.
“Mari, we should really stop. This isn’t the right time.” He gently pushed her hand away and turned the key. She heard his ragged breathing over the sudden roar of the engine, but her own racing heartbeat nearly drowned everything else out.
“Have you...wanted to do that before?” Marisol asked shyly while he navigated back to the freeway.
“Yes. Many times.”
“Me, too.”
He shot her a sideways smile. “I’m glad I didn’t have to wait until the 4th to do that.”
“I wish you hadn’t waited until now.”
His smile faded a little. “Yeah.” He reached across the divide and took her hand, clasping her fingers tightly. “But first things first. We need to get you fed.”
“Am I going to keep...killing people?”
“No,” Dean said firmly. “Remember, the bear is hungry. If we keep the bear sated, you won’t go hunting. Besides, I’m going to keep an eye on you. I won’t let you hurt anybody.”
“What are you going to do? Sit up outside my house all night?”
“Yes.”
Marisol shook her head. “You can’t do that. You need your sleep.”
“I can always catch a nap before the rodeo. Don’t worry about me. I’m here to help you, okay?”
She smiled wea
kly. “Okay.”
They passed the Cody city limits just after nine. Marisol expected her parents would be at the arena, and she was counting on having a few extra hours to herself to work out her story and decide how much she dare tell them of the truth. But when they turned the corner of her street, she saw the house blazing with lights and the driveway packed full of cars.
“Looks like they rounded up a posse,” Dean muttered.
“Oh God. Just drop me off; you don’t have to deal with them.”
Instead of agreeing, Dean surprised her by taking her hand again. “We’re a team. We’ll deal with them together.”
Marisol’s head was still spinning from everything that happened in the past twenty-four hours, but his touch grounded her, and for a moment, she thought they would actually face everything together and get through it.
Right up until her mother shouted at Dean to get the hell out of her house before she called the police and had him arrested for kidnapping and trespassing.
Dean’s response was to tighten his grip on her hand, but she gently pulled away.
“Don’t talk to him like that. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“You watch your mouth,” Anna snapped. “You disappeared without as much as a word. Do you have any idea how frightened I was? How much you worried your father?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. It was just...a trip. For class. I needed to do some research in Jackson.”
Her mother narrowed her eyes, and Marisol realized she’d miscalculated. “Now you lie to me? Go to your room. You’re grounded for the rest of the summer.”
“Mom, I’m a grown woman. You can’t ground me.”
“You’re a liar. As long as you live under this roof, you will follow my rules, and you will respect me and your father. No more lies and no more rodeo.” She turned her attention back to Dean. “You and your kind are not welcome here. If I see you sniffing around my daughter again, I’ll call the sheriff and have you removed. Do you understand me? Now get the hell out of my house!”
Dean had no choice but to comply. Her heart sank as the door closed behind him. Her mother’s face was red and Marisol could sense another tirade. She didn’t give her a chance to launch into another rant; she turned on her heel and marched into her room, her head spinning, her eyes burning, and her stomach churning.