by Hattie Hunt
Finally naked, Mason crouched down and invited Bones forward. He nearly burst out, so excited to be free that Mason had to coax him back for the notebook.
Bones ambled back and picked it up, careful not to pierce the leather cover with his teeth.
Mason was impressed.
They emerged from the bushes to find Emma leaning against his car with her arms crossed over her chest. Her shoulders had bulked up and were covered in a swatch of short golden fur.
How did she do that?
“It’s about damn time.” She stepped forward and stood tall. “Quill boy.” She shifted.
It was the most graceful, beautiful thing Mason had ever seen. Her shoulders, already covered in fur, bulked up further and the fur rose up her neck, darkening her natural blonde as her long locks shortened, revealing rounded ears on the top of her head. As the transformation finished, Emma shook her head and dropped down to all fours, letting out a low, contented growl.
All Mason could think of was Cinderella being turned into a princess by her fairy godmother. Because, for a bear, Emma was incredibly gorgeous. Snout and all.
The second she was shifted, he could feel another presence in his mind. It was in addition to his porcupine—Bones. It had to be Mal?
And Emma. Was Emma touching his mind?
There was something so intimate about the idea that it set him back.
The bear started into the trees, but when Mason didn’t follow, she looked back. He could still see Emma in the bear’s eyes. Could she see him in Bones?
Mason nudged Bones on, but the porcupine seemed apprehensive. Had it been any other bear, Mason probably would have been too. But it was Emma.
Mal grunted and swung his head back and forth and Mason felt a press of encouragement—laced with what he was sure was irritation—press against them.
Come on, Bones.
The porcupine perked up at the use of his new name, and ambled along behind the bear, his quills raised slightly on alert. Once Emma and Mal were sure Mason was following, they picked up the pace, accelerating to a jog that sent ripples of golden fur down their back.
If Mason could begrudge porcupines anything, it was their short legs. As they started moving, Bones fell into pace, taking no less than a dozen steps for each of Mal’s one, but he grew more confident, more at ease. Exhilarated.
Mason let himself sink into Bones’ presence, and together, they became one. He noticed each stone and branch under foot. Smelled the musk of the forest, the soil and leaves.
It wasn’t the first time he’d let Bones completely take over, but today was new.
Mason felt alive with Bones. And as cliché as it sounded, one with nature. He would have to tell Emma when they shifted back. She would probably get a kick out of it.
A surge of laughter that didn’t belong to Bones swept over him like a blanket.
So, she already heard? How as that even possible?
A sharp smell assaulted his nose.
Bones turned and dropped the notebook on the ground… next to a pile of bones.
It smelled of fresh decay and Mason could see a tuft of fur not far away. The pile wasn’t big, perhaps that of a larger rodent. Maybe a cat.
But he knew immediately what Bones was after.
Sitting right in the middle of the pile was a completely intact skull. A surge of giddiness swept through them as Bones started digging.
Another presence pressed on their mind, and branches cracked behind them as the bear pushed into the brush where they had stopped. Mal took a step forward and Bones hissed, quills standing up in full array. His eyes flicked between Mal and the skull, which he had almost stepped on. He had one long toenail resting on the little black journal that Bones had dropped.
Mal snorted, and took a step back. And Mason could swear he saw him roll his eyes. He didn’t think bears could do that, but what did he know?
Bones skirted around the skull until his rear-end was facing Mal and nosed up to the skull, bumping it gently. Then he picked it up in his mouth. Dropped it. Looked at the journal. Picked up the skull again and set it on top of the journal, then stepped back.
He looked up at Mal.
The bear sat on his haunches, plucking at something on a front leg with his teeth. When he noticed Bones looking at him, he dropped back down and growled.
Mason was beside himself. What was Emma going to think?
Bones was conflicted. For probably the first time ever, he wanted to please Mason by carrying the notebook, but he seemed to have realized that he couldn’t carry both the notebook and his treasure.
Mason had to bite back his laughter at the absurdity of it. He pushed on Bones’ thoughts, trying to suggest that he try and get Mal to carry the notebook.
Bones balked.
Mal growled again, apparently more aware of Mason that he’d thought.
Nudge the notebook towards him. Emma will pick it up.
Bones flicked his eyes between the skull and Mal.
Come on. It’ll be fine.
Bones crooned, and his quills pulsed up and down.
Please.
Bones flattened himself to the ground, ears back and quills flat. He skulked around the skull until he was facing Mal and then reached out with his snout and pushed the skull off the notebook. With a quick glance at Mal, Bones pushed the notebook forward.
Mal snorted and Mason saw something flicker in his eyes. Mal swung his head back and forth, a grizzly refusal.
Bones took half a step back from the notebook, picked up the skull again.
Mal exhaled, his lips flapping. A string of saliva flicked towards Mason and Bones. Then, he reached down and picked up the notebook with his teeth.
Mason was never going to hear the end of that. He didn’t sense anything from Mal as the bear backed out of the brush and back onto the open way they had been following. They weren’t on one of the trails in this section of the woods, but Mal had led them through a part of the woods clear enough for a bear to wander without trouble.
Mason urged Bones to follow and the porcupine did without complaint. There was even a spring to his ambling steps.
They didn’t travel much further, emerging into a sweeping clearing with a stream running along one edge. The grass swayed in a light breeze, pressed down in spots by past lounging wildlife. The standing grass parted around Mal as he moved, swishing back and forth in his passing.
This was easily the best day of his life.
He just hoped Emma understood how much this meant to him.
19
When Bones ambled into the next flattened spot of grass, Mason didn’t see grizzly fur. Emma stood over them, holding a drool covered black notebook in her hand.
Oh, no. Even with his insistence on bringing along the notebook, he hadn’t considered the fact that to make use of it, he would have to shift back into human form. Which would leave him standing there, completely naked. Because he had left his satchel back by the cars. Like an idiot. It seemed like a supremely bad idea now, no matter what Emma would say about it.
“You gonna stay a porcupine all night, Mason?” She propped one hand on her hip.
Her skin was perfectly tanned, a rich golden color that glowed beneath the fall of her blonde hair that somehow looked no worse for wear than when they had started their journey into the woods. He might have felt better about it if she at least had a leaf or a twig or something stuck in it.
Mason looked around, his immediately searching for a place to shift back. There was a thick trunked tree not too far to his left, and he could shift there, just out of sight. He didn’t know why it was so important, but even without his clothes, he still didn’t want to shift right there in the middle of the clearing. And, it would give Bones a safe place to leave his skull. He would be unbearable if Mason lost it while he was shifted. And Bones had tried so hard to please him. Come on. Over there.
As Bones retreated to the tree, Emma huffed. “You’re not serious. This is ridiculous.”
Maso
n ignored her. Once they were behind the tree, he shifted back.
Bones wasn’t very happy about it, but he didn’t fight. Though he did make sure Mason knew exactly where the skull was.
“Mason, quit being a prude and just get out here.”
He really didn’t feel comfortable with this. “You sure we can’t just stay shifted?”
“You have ten seconds or I’m letting Mal eat your notebook.”
Fuck. Mason stood up tall and shook himself, trying to imagine himself fully clothed, but too aware of the breeze blowing around his midriff and between his legs. He wished he had his glasses. His vision wasn’t as awful up close, but it occurred to him that when he walked out, things weren’t going to be perfectly clear. Which might work to his benefit, because he wasn’t convinced that he was going to be able to keep his eyes off Emma. He was alert, aware, exhilarated. Alive.
And she was gorgeous.
Dear God, what if he—with Emma there and—oh, Lord. If he popped wood in front of her, he was going to be mortified.
Faking courage, he stepped out from behind the tree.
Emma hadn’t moved, one hand still on her hip, notebook dangling from her fingertips. “It’s about time.”
And that’s all she had to say. That…wasn’t horrible?
Emma gave him a once over, enjoying the view and how uncomfortable her appraisal made him. He was surprisingly hairy, which she didn’t expect. Dark hair covered his chest and stomach, coming to a point just below his belly button.
He shifted on his feet, visibly uncomfortable.
She crossed her arms and smirked. “I’ve seen worse.”
“Thanks.” Mason flattened his hands over his junk, walking towards her with an awkward gate.
Emma shook her head and held the notebook out to him. “I’m a little impressed you got your porcupine to carry this. Spirit animals tend not to like being treated as pack animals.”
Mason took the notebook. “We’ve been doing it one way or another for years. It’s been one thing we can negotiate. I will say, he didn’t begrudge me quite as much, now that he has a name.”
Emma raised an eyebrow. “You named him?”
Mason shrugged. “It occurred to me after you told me to treat him as a person that maybe he deserved one. His name is Bones. I would rather call him Bo. He disagrees.”
Emma laughed. “Suddenly the little foray into the bushes makes a lot of sense.”
“It’s a porcupine thing. Apparently. They collect bones. I let him because it makes him happy. Finding that skull was like striking gold.”
Mal grumbled irritably.
She shook her head with a smile. “Wow. Mal isn’t super amused.”
“No. I didn’t realize we could communicate, or whatever that was.”
“It’s more that our spirits can communicate with each other, and we’re bystanders. I couldn’t communicate directly with you while we’re shifted, though I could probably get Mal to relay a message… or a feeling I guess. They don’t really communicate with words.”
“Interesting.” Mason flipped open the notebook and pulled the pen out of the crease. He started writing.
“What could you possibly be writing down now? It’s not like you can google this shit.” Emma reached out and pressed a finger down on the notebook so he had to stop writing.
Mason bit down on his lip in a grimace and then met her eyes.
The intensity of his gaze sent a rush of heat through her body, both unexpected and welcome. Mason was so… innocent. Awkward. Adorable? And he made her feel normal. Human. In a supernatural life.
She plucked the notebook out of Mason’s fingers, and her breath caught in her throat.
He stood, his chest rising and falling in heavy anticipation, unsure of himself.
It was just so very refreshing. Everything about this man intoxicated her, even though she knew this was a bad idea.
Emma rose on her toes and kissed him.
It started tentative, their lips both cold in the night air. Question and hesitancy kept the kiss short. She pulled away first.
He stood frozen.
Had she made a mistake?
But his eyes were on hers, green—emerald—and deep. Endless. She could see into him. The desire built.
Then his hand slid around her waist, soft as a feather until it settled in the small of her back and became solid.
Emma stepped into him, her fingers exploring his chest. She let the notebook fall to the ground as she played in the hair on his chest, soft and plush.
Mason put his other hand on her neck and pulled her in, their lips meeting in an explosion of lust.
Everything slipped away. Nothing mattered but the way his lips felt on hers.
He pulled away, just enough to wet her lips with his tongue, and she let her mouth slip open, inviting him inside. She could taste the mint on his breath, feel his heat. Emma slid her hands up his chest, wrapping them around his neck and pulled him deeper into her. His tongue looped around hers, and they danced together. She sucked him in and bit his lip, dragging it between her teeth. He groaned and tightened his hold on her waist, pulling her against him.
His erection pressed against her abdomen. Her body ached, needing more, needing him. She placed one foot between his, sliding behind his legs until they couldn’t be any closer together. She pulled away from their kiss and nudged his chin to the side with a trail of light kisses until she found his earlobe. She traced the edge of his ear with her tongue in between nibbles. His breath caught, and he moaned in her ear. His hands slid down her back, over her butt, each movement sending ripples of pleasure cascading over her skin.
He lifted her off the ground, his hands at her waist. Her arms tightened around his neck, arching her back, her breasts standing at attention, nipples hard.
He spun them around, but they were in the middle of the clearing. There was nothing he could press her against to take her. And she wanted him to take her. Needed it. Emma moaned in frustration, but it was stifled as his mouth found hers again.
She didn’t realize they were on the ground until she felt the grass tickling her back. His hands swept around from behind her back. He ran them open palmed over her stomach, to her ribs, cupping her breasts. He kneaded them, drawing them up until they fell back under their own weight. And then his tongue traced circles around her nipple, flicking over the top and sucking it in.
Fire exploded through her.
Her hips kicked up, bucking against him. His attention was still on her nipple, and she slid her own hand down her stomach until she found the folds of her womanhood. She was slick. Ready. She shivered as her fingers slipped over her clit.
He moaned, his mouth full of breast. Releasing a ragged breath, he spread her legs with his knee.
She needed him so bad. Her fingers found him, encircling him, measuring his girth. He felt amazing. She ran her finger along his smooth tip, reveling in the satin feel of his skin.
Jesus.
The sound he made was strangled as his manhood wept under her manipulation. His shoulders tightened. He placed both hands palm down on either side of her and bowed his head, his breathing harsh.
Those emerald eyes bore into hers, claiming her in way she’d never experienced before. Her vision blurred for a moment and the only thing she could think about was feeling him inside her. She guided his tip to her waiting opening.
He studied her, as if waiting for some sign, or maybe a teacher’s note. She didn’t know. She needed him. Now.
Releasing him, she thrust her hips upward.
He raised an eyebrow and moved his hips away, a slight smile on his lips.
Those damned, fucking lips.
She needed him, and she was going to have him. She lifted her head off the ground, intent on claiming his lips in a kiss.
He pulled his head back just far enough away that she couldn’t.
What…the hell was he waiting for?
He brought his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. They st
ayed like that for a long moment, breathing each other’s breath.
“I need you, Mason Covey,” she whispered against his lips.
His body shivered as if her words were a caress. Her fingers found his hips.
One breath. Two.
He thrust inside her.
Her world exploded as she felt him deep inside her.
With each thrust, Mason lay a kiss on her shoulder. Her breast. Her nipple. Her neck. Until his lips found hers again and they breathed each other in. Their kisses grew distracted, lips brushing and bumping together with each short breath. They came faster, more urgent and the fire in Emma’s stomach reached inferno. Her fingers gripped the grass, pulling the arch of her back tighter. Her breath caught, oxygen cutting out as she teetered on the edge of climax.
When she couldn’t hold her breath any longer, she cried out, and then she came, a rush of ecstasy flashing through her body in a wave of fire. He cried out and shuddered, and then his arms collapsed.
His weight settled on top of her. She held him close, cradled in her arms. She wrapped her legs around him, just holding him, her passion spent, feeling complete.
He nuzzled his face into her neck, his haggard breathing a pleasured hum in her ear, their chests rising and falling together as he held himself off her just enough to keep from crushing her.
They stayed like that for a while, letting the energy from their climax evaporate.
She rolled her head to the side and nipped him on the ear before letting her arms fall out to the side with a huge grin on her face.
He groaned and fell to the ground splayed out in the grass beside her.
They lay there for a long while, no words, only breathing.
Eventually, his hand found hers. He wound his fingers into hers and lifted it to his lips.
Goosebumps trickled along her arms. She closed her eyes. She could still feel him on top of her, inside her. And she didn’t want this moment to go away.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” he said. Her hand was still in his, laying between them in the grass.