Loved by The Alpha Bear (Primal Bear Protectors Book 1)

by K. T. Stryker

  Lips parting, Nathan nods again—slower. The heating from the vent tosses his hair slightly, making it fall into his eyes.

  “Me too, Liam.” It feels so simple when he says it out loud, his voice calm and quiet. “Me goddamn too.”

  Despite everything that’s happened, Nathan hasn’t shifted yet. His brain flips channels to an image of Naomi.

  “You’re uncontrollable. Come home with me.”

  Nathan furrows his eyebrows. Is he uncontrollable? He doesn’t feel that way. Clara doesn’t feel that way. Liam, sitting right in front of him, doesn’t even seem to feel that way. What is Clara worth to Nathan? What is he, and his happiness, worth to himself?

  The answer comes after a moment. It dawns on him, surfacing from the back of his mind where it had been incubating for God knows how long. It doesn’t feel like a shocking revelation to realize that he’d be better off taking care of himself instead of trying to let his sister guide his life in the direction she thinks is best.

  Standing abruptly, he drinks the rest of his glass of water. “If you plan on wooing my sister, you’ve only got a few hours. All of us are…” Nathan slowly corrects. “She’s leaving really soon.”

  “I took a taxi here—I’m not allowed to take my work car to personal meetings,” Liam explains. “Is it that urgent?”

  “Yes.” Nathan rubs his face, thinking. He needs to go, and he needs to go now if he wants Clara to keep her memory.

  If she loses her memory, what then? He asks himself. The answer, however, comes quicker and easier than he expected it to. I’ll just go after her again, from the beginning. A month can be remade. He’d do it over again a thousand times.

  Is it worth it to try? To take the risk? Clara's car isn't here, and Nathan isn't about to steal one from the neighbor, at least not with a private investigator with him. He could run, but he'd be giving up any chance he has of getting there in time.

  There's only one option. Clara is worth it—more than worth it. He'd choose her every single time.

  "Come with me, and hurry." He beckons to Liam, jogging to the door and throwing it open. Using the spare key underneath the doormat, he locks the door and meets Liam in the driveway. "We can get there in time, at least in time for me, but you have to trust me. If you don't, I will leave you behind and you can walk."

  "Trust you in what way?"

  Nathan gives him a sly smile. "You comfortable riding on the back of a polar bear?"

  It takes a moment for Liam to decide. He gulps, hesitating and narrowing his eyes before nodding. All that's left is for Nathan to shift.

  It's going to hurt. It's going to hurt like hell, especially this close to his last shift. But what would hurt more than that is seeing Clara look at him without a clue who he is.

  The pain is only the first problem. Nathan still can't control himself very well while shifted. Somehow, he doesn't feel worried about that given how relaxed he feels.

  The bad news is if it doesn't go well, the private investigator might be injured by Nathan’s bear form. That would land Nathan in jail, if the rest of it didn't already. There isn't a choice, so the risks are the risks are the risks.

  Nathan closes his eyes and focuses his energy. Inside his chest, his lungs feel light. There's a ball energy right around his core keeping him grounded, and it grows with every second. Make it a smooth shift. Save me the pain. Let me control myself. Nathan’s done this before many times, as a child. He used to be much better at shifting smoothly and in control of himself, but ever since Naomi tried to regulate his shifting, it’s been much, much harder.

  When he starts to change, it hurts but not like normal. It's so smooth, he hardly realizes he's shifting. It takes him, like sinking into warm bathwater. Nathan lets it. He lets fur sprout from his skin—it will always hurt. It’s just part of his illness. Right now, however, Nathan embraces that pain and allows it to make him feel stronger, like he really has to fight for it. He does have to fight for this.

  After all, this is all part of him. His condition is a part of him. There's no cure, and there isn't any way to get rid of it except to deal with the problems it deals him. Nathan, for once, feels at peace.

  A pained growl pulls its way out of his throat. Still, he pushes his breathing, in, out, in, out, in, out until it's finished.

  The ugly, wild side of him threatens to drag itself out. He fights it down as Liam climbs on his back, and Nathan finds himself incredibly grateful that he doesn't have to look at the investigator to get him to do so.

  Without hesitation and before controlling himself can get any harder, Nathan starts walking. A walk turns into a jog then a run. Liam doesn't fall off, which is impressive. The man has a tight grip in his fur, which would sting more if Nathan wasn't so used to pain.

  Nathan throws himself into it. The woods fly by, his nostrils filling with the scent of salt and grass. Everything is wild—the world, his body, his senses. Everything is wild but his mind.

  For once, his head feels clearer than ever.

  He can hear Liam yelling, but over the wind there’s no real way to hear. Nathan lets himself go in the best way, the rhythm of his feet on the ground beating deep into his consciousness. His muscles burn—his wounds burn more.

  Panic doesn't overtake him. His control over himself is better than usual—better than it's been since he was a kid. Still, the wild side of him fights just enough to leave him with only focus and adrenaline. Anxiety fades. He lets his body do the work, quietly thanking it for doing so.

  Nathan breaks through the trees, twigs snapping in his face. As they get to town, he slows to a stop. Passersby run for the sides of the road, screaming. When he stops, Liam slips off and to the side. Nathan lets himself relax. Slowly, he finds himself shifting to normal. When he does, he kneels on the ground, body aching. Everything burns. He's not dead, and he won't be going to the ER any time soon, but it hurts. His bruises will get worse over the next few days, and Nathan's dreads how awful he'll look.

  But that hardly matters now. Struggling to his feet, Nathan looks around. Liam is near, panting and leaning on his knees like he's dizzy, hair windblown. The hair on Nathan's head is fine. His polar bear fur is different than the hair on his head—the two never exist at once.

  "Leave Naomi to me for now, OK?" Nathan commands, voice coming out strained and ugly like he has a sore throat.

  Liam nods. "I have something else to do first, anyway." The man looks around, still breathing heavily. He waves the shifter away. "Go. You were in a rush, weren't you?"

  Yes, he was.

  Nathan throws himself down the street in human form. His limbs ache from his run in bear form—some things don't change when he shifts. It's even worse now because of new shifting injuries. Nathan's used to some of this. Before Mihra, this was every day. It's only fitting that he should have to fight for that comfort the same way he did before her.

  He gets to the coffee shop, passing Clara's car on the way there. She's still here. One peek inside of the windows, however, shows that she's not here. Fuck. Unsure what else to do, he goes inside to the barista.

  "Hey, did you see where Clara and the dark-haired woman went?"

  The man furrows his brow. "Are you Nathan? She mentioned you while ordering." He smiles, and Nathan bites down his irritation and rushed attitude as the man continues. "They were going for a walk on the beach, I believe. You can access it via the docks to the right of the store."

  "Thank you." Nathan breaks for the door. "Thank you so much."

  Once out of the store, Nathan runs for the docks. The wood feels old under his feet—old and unstable. He ignores the pain of movement once again and jumps off the docks onto the sound. At first, he thinks they're not here. Then all the way down the beach, he sees a figure pushing a wheelchair on the thin stretch of sidewalk before the sand and the shoreline. Her memory's not gone yet.

  If Naomi's been convinced by Clara to put it off for as long as she has, there's not much time left. He books it, somehow pushing his bo
dy to the absolute limit. His feet ache, and his ankles burn, but he can't stop. Running on the sand makes it worse.

  Nathan can taste salt in the air, in the wind. It seeps into his senses, making him dedicated—making him feel alive.

  As he gets closer, the two stop. Naomi's figure moves to the side, kneeling before the wheelchair. No. I'm so close. Nathan gasps, desperately running. If there's a God, if there's anyone out there, let me make it in time.

  Naomi presses her hands to the sides of Clara's head, and Nathan can't contain himself anymore.

  "Don't touch her, Naomi—” His voice is deep and strong, loud. The figure looks up and abruptly stands.

  "Go home! We agreed on this together."

  Nathan finally reaches them. Clara looks up, a sad and tired expression on her face. "Nathan...."

  He smiles before turning to Naomi. "No. You chose this for me, just like you’ve always chosen everything in my life." Tilting his head, Nathan tosses his windblown bangs out of his eyes. "And I’ve decided I don't want what you want.”

  Something angry and dark and bitter tints Naomi's expression. "You’re being ridiculous. I just want to protect you and make sure you’re safe—”

  "You may want that, but you haven’t achieved it,” he interjects. “I’m not as off the handle as you think. I shifted on the way here and controlled myself the whole way. When I was a kid, I could do this better, and I know I can learn to again. Your tactics have only just suppressed things I’d be better off letting out and learning to deal with.”

  Naomi winces, looking upset and angry at the same time. "That’s subjective. I didn’t know you could still..." She trails off. “But I still believe this is right. You’re not ready to be on your own, and we both know that. And you can’t stop me. I can always just shift and get you out of the way. Then I could erase her memory with no issue.”

  "I’m twenty-five, Naomi. I’m more than ready," Nathan shakes his head, righting his footing and grinding his teeth. "And nice try, but I can smell the recent shift on you. Guardian or not, you can't change forms for at least another hour."

  His sister looks wounded. A small growl rips out of Naomi’s throat, and she throws a hard and fast punch that lands on Nathan’s jaw. Stumbling, he holds his hands up in a blocking position. After her initial, wild throw, Naomi settles more into stance. There’s no real fighting code for shifters, but they grew up together. There are some standards they’re used to.

  “Stop—” Clara seems shocked, her voice breaking.

  Stopping isn’t an option. Nathan narrowly avoids a kick from Naomi, dodging to the side. The siblings throw themselves into the fight, but it’s more intense than the way they used to spar as kids.

  Nathan knows he's at a disadvantage. Maybe in a fair fight in human form, he'd be fine, but his body is pushed to the brink. His lungs burn, and all his hits feel slow and lethargic. Heaving, he stumbles and gets hit in the jaw by another of Naomi's punches. The sting sends him reeling—he barely avoids falling to the ground.

  Irritation shows in Naomi's face as she moves quickly around him, trying a side kick that he blocks easily despite his exhaustion. Nathan spits blood, smirking. "You've lost your touch, Naomi."

  That makes her hiss, expression caught somewhere between steely and guilty. "Don't fool yourself, little brother. I'm going easy on you."

  She speeds up, moving around him faster than he can turn. Nathan jumps back, avoiding an uppercut. He retaliates with a kick, but she grabs his leg and twists. He knows how to counter this one, though—an opposing twist yanks his foot away, and he uses her compensation time to land a fingertip hit to her gut.

  Nathan can’t keep up with her forever, and she feints and lets herself be hit by one of his punches in order to kick down and swipe his feet out from underneath him. Nathan falls hard and fast, grateful that the sand provides some cushion to his already messed-up body.

  Clara calls out. "Naomi, hold on. He's hurt—”

  "I'm not stupid, Clara," the shifter woman spouts. “Do you think I wouldn't notice my brother's injuries?"

  She steps on Nathan's chest, holding him down. He gasps, groaning. Hair astray now and fallen out of its ponytail, Naomi looks bedraggled. The look she gives Nathan could only be one of sadness and confusion. "Why are you doing this? Who do you think I am? Your prison guard holding you hostage?" She snorts, but the laugh doesn’t feel genuine. "I'm doing what's best for you. Don't act like a child and try to pretend that I'm not right about this."

  Nathan closes his eyes. Surprisingly, he doesn't really feel worked up at all. If anything, Naomi's energy is the aggressive one. He can’t help but pity her and hope that she finds a way to accept and deal with whatever’s going on in her life. It’s probably related to Liam, the investigator.

  "You're not right about this," Nathan breathes.

  "What?"

  "I said you're not right about this." His eyes snap open, and he sits on his elbows, pushing past Naomi's foot. The bruises on his chest under the pressure of her sneaker ache. "The only one acting like a child is you, Naomi."

  Anger bubbles in her expression, and there's an ugly pause that makes Nathan taste something bad. She narrows her eyes and starts to speak, but Nathan cuts her off. "I'm not a kid anymore. You're acting like my big sister on the playground again, protecting me from everyone else and myself."

  "I still need to do that!" She presses a hand to her chest, trying to defend herself. "You—”

  Incredulous, Nathan shakes his head. "No, you goddamn don't." He grabs Naomi's foot and shoves it off him. "I'm not some sort of ticking time bomb. I'm a human being." He pauses, narrowing his eyes. "Don't pretend like you're not taking out your issues on me, either."

  "What?" Naomi takes a step back, black hair tossing in the wind. She furrows her eyebrows, looking confused and frustrated beyond belief. She struggles for words. "Explain."

  "What is there to explain, Naomi?" Nathan struggles to his feet. "I spoke with Liam. 'Human and shifters just can't work together?' What a fucking joke. Are you disciplining me, Naomi, or are you disciplining yourself?"

  Shock paints Naomi's face white, and she pales right in front of him. To his right, a sharp intake of breath reminds Nathan of Clara's presence. He grins at her. While he's distracted, Naomi takes her chance. Nathan finds himself slammed against a tree trunk.

  "Look at you. You shifted and you look like this. You're all beaten up by your body. I was there when you shifted in the square, and I was the one who stopped you. What will you do when it happens again and I'm not around? Will you go to jail for assault and take it in stride? Can you deal with that pain?"

  "That's all what-ifs," he retaliates. "That's life. You never know what will happen. If all us played it safe, there'd be nothing left. I know I can control myself better than you give me credit for."

  Naomi looks desperate. She pulls at strings. "But you have it so much worse than others, Nathan. You know it's harder for you."

  "Yes. You're right, it's harder for me," he admits. Adrenaline pumps through his veins, pushing him forward. Nathan's surprised to find that he doesn't think it's Clara's presence doing this to him—it's his desire to be his person. "But I'm not willing to hide forever being afraid of who and what I am. If anyone's made me worse and stressed me out and pushed my condition to the brink, it's you, Naomi."

  "What about pain, then? What about your injuries? Who will help you when you shift too much by accident and find yourself bleeding out by the side of the road?"

  "I'll help myself, Naomi," he murmurs. Whatever energy for argument he had is gone. He just wants to explain. "I will fucking help myself. That, or someone around me will take me to the doctor. Pain is normal. Injuries mean nothing beyond just that. Pain. It's just a physical sensation."

  Naomi opens her mouth but he interrupts her again. "But you know what really hurts, Naomi—what really digs in and stings?" He pushes her off him, sidestepping. Emotion overtakes him, but he finds that he's calm. "Watching your lover
die in front of you and being able to do nothing about it. That hurts. Being blamed for the death of the one person who viewed you like a person and not a burden—that's a real injury. That's worse than anything."

  Her face softens with hurt and she tucks hair behind her ear. "Nathan," she pleads. "I didn't—”

  "Like hell you didn't," Nathan murmurs. "You pushed that on me as much as anyone else. You're the one who said I put stress on Mihra and pushed her to kill herself when we both know that's not the case. You're just ordering me around like you've always done. It's all so you can feel like you're achieving something—like I'm your charity case."

  Naomi shakes her head. “No, I love you. You’re my little brother—that’s why I do it.”

  “Yes,” he affirms. “I love you, too. I love you so much, but you have to let me go.”

  She's silent for a while, and after a moment she drops her eyes to the sand. Nathan knows there's no fight in her anymore, physically or mentally.

  He steps forward, toward a depressed-looking Naomi. Carefully, he pulls her into a hug. “I know you’re protective over me,” he murmurs. “But I’m an adult man, and I’m stronger than you think. This is not your business anymore.” He steps back, holding her cheeks. “Stop treating me like a pet you have to watch and start focusing on your life.”

  Naomi closes her eyes. “I still think you’re unstable.”

  “Then think I’m unstable. But before you judge me, I think you should focus on the things you’re avoiding in your life. I love you, but you can’t do this to me forever. I’m calling an end to it now.”