by Sadie Savage
“I dreamed you were a bear,” she replied with a smile.
“It wasn’t a dream, Dixie. It was real. You passed out and I carried you in here to lay down,” he said.
“No. That is impossible,” she replied.
“It isn’t impossible. I was born this way, as my father was before me and my grandfather before that. Our child will be one, as well. There will be anomalies on your ultrasound. That is why I need for you to go to a specific doctor,” he replied.
Dixie’s eyes grew wide. Her hands shot down to her stomach, clutching it as if she expected whatever she was carrying to claw its way out right this moment. She was suddenly more frightened than she was a short time ago watching Luke turn into some sort of were bear. Knowing she had one inside of her was well more than a bit more than she had bargained for in this whole thing.
“It’s okay. You won’t be hurt by the baby, Dixie. He will develop like a normal child and he will appear to be a normal child. Not even he will know any different until he begins to shift in his teens. I will have prepared him for that well before it happens to him. He’ll need to know how to cope, how to conceal it and how to control it. The only thing that will need to be addressed is any doctor’s visits. He can’t go to normal doctors and he can’t go to normal hospitals,” he told her.
“What if something more than a scrape happens to him?” she said.
“Most anything that happens to him will heal rapidly on its own. Anything beyond that will be taken care of by the club physician,” he said.
“The bike club? All were bears?” she said, suddenly understanding a lot more about the close bond between most of them and the animosity from the second in command toward Luke.
“Yes, all of them. There are many of us here and we’ve coexisted peacefully for centuries,” he said.
“Centuries?” she repeated. “How old are you?”
“I am not immortal, Dixie. I will live for several centuries, but I was born here just like you were and am very young compared to some of the others,” he said. “It is the reason I am having issues with Harlan. He is much older and feels he should be the leader.”
“Why isn’t he?” she asked.
“Because it was decided long ago who would be leader. Each generation, a new boy is born to the leader of the pack and that boy replaces his father when the time comes. I replaced my father and our son will replace me one day,” he said.
“That is why Harlan is angry? Doesn’t he know that he can’t ever be leader and it is useless to cause problems because of it,” she said.
“Listen closely to me, Dixie. I have to keep you here, out of sight. Harlan is dangerous. I know he has intentions of trying to take me down so that he can take over as leader. If I am out of the way, it falls to a vote and that is usually who is considered to be the strongest of the pack. The one that took down the previous leader is the most likely successor,” he said.
“You mean he would try to kill you? Oh my God, Luke. What about me? Why do I have to hide?” she asked, still not completely grasping the situation.
“Because if Harlan kills me, our child becomes next in line. An elder would be appointed by the council to hold his place and teach him what he needs to know until such time as he can step into my shoes. Do you understand what I am saying?” he said.
“Harlan would have to kill all of us,” she replied.
“I’m sorry, Dixie. I had no intention of this happening anytime soon. I have some other ways of dealing with Harlan that I was working on, but things have escalated and I’m afraid that if he finds out about the baby, it will set him off completely. I can’t risk him harming you,” he replied.
Dixie sat crying on the bed. This was too much, way too much. How had she gotten herself into this mess? She had tried so hard to do better than her sisters and had only landed in more of a bad situation than any of them could have ever gotten themselves into. Luke held her close, trying to sooth her, but she couldn’t seem to get a grip on herself. A knock on the door disrupted them.
“I’ll be right back,” Luke told her, stepping out of the bedroom and closing the door.
She heard the front door swing open and angry voices coming from the living room. It was Harlan, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying. Creeping out of the bed, she put her ear against the door so that she could hear better.
“How long did you think you could hide that you knocked up your little college girl?” she heard Harlan saying.
“Who told you a tale like that, Harlan?” Luke asked.
“I could smell the hormonal stink on her when she left the garage earlier. Seems I’ve acquired a few skills you haven’t. Only more reason for me to be leader,” Harlan said.
“You aren’t fit to be leader. You have too many anger issues and a nasty streak. Have you forgotten what you did to those guys down at the river house last year? You almost got us all hunted down and killed for that. The council was furious,” Luke told him.
Dixie had some vague memory of an incident at the river while she was away last fall. It was chalked up to wild animals but no one was sure what kind or why they had attacked the men while they slept. Hunters had spent weeks in the woods looking for anything rabid or large, bringing in hundreds of large game trophies as a part of their excused killing of normally protected animals.
“They had it coming, man. They ripped me off in that card game,” Harlan spat back at him.
“I don’t think that should have been a death sentence.” Then, “Don’t do that, Harlan. I’m warning you,” Dixie heard Luke say.
She heard the low growl, the same one she had heard earlier when Luke had changed. It grew louder and was joined by a second. Panic set in as she realized they were changing. Harlan was challenging him, here and now. This was really happening. Right now, in the middle of his living room. The sound of things breaking and large bodies colliding shook the house. Dixie began looking around for something, anything to protect herself and their baby if she had to.
The terrifying noises coming from the living room sent her scurrying to the closet. She cowered there listening to the fight that was happening in the next room. She had never been near two wild animals fighting, much less something like this. Her heart felt like it was going to leap out of her chest and tears fell down her face as it seemed to go on endlessly. Finally, there was the horrible sound of an animal in pain. Everything stopped for a moment except for that sound.
Dixie reached for the wall beside her to steady herself and prepare to run if needed. Her hands landed squarely on something hard. She felt quietly along it to discover it was in fact a double barrel shotgun, something she was very familiar with thanks to her father teaching her at least a little about guns when she was younger. Before she could check to see if it was loaded, she heard the sound of the bedroom door being ripped open and crashing noises of what sounded like the bed being broken. Cocking the gun, she waited, terrified.
The door shook as it was ripped off its hinges. Dixie couldn’t see anything as the dark shadow of the were bear blocked out the light behind it. Without thinking, she pulled the trigger on the shotgun, hoping it hit somewhere that would do enough damage for her to escape. The sound was deafening in the small closet as the gun went off and the bear fell backwards toward the broken remains of the bed. He attempted to get up, but she cocked the shotgun again, unloading another round squarely in its chest. It fell still and she watched as it slowly reshaped into the figure of a man . . . Harlan.
She gagged at the sight of him, falling forward from the closet and holding on to the wall for balance. Fear immobilized her for quite some time before she could bring herself to make it to the living room. There, she found Luke, lying on the floor. He was naked, covered with blood, bruises and scratches. Tears fell down her face as she knelt over him, crying. Holding him close to her, she could feel him still breathing.
“Hold on, Luke. Don’t leave me,” she cried, reaching into her pocket for her cell phone.
Dixie called the bar and asked them to get anyone that was there from his gang to the phone. She wasn’t sure if they could even comprehend what she was saying due to her near hysteria, but a short time later, bikes arrived in droves. An older man she recognized as a frequent visitor instructed someone to calm her while he tended to Luke. She found herself escorted to the back porch and given a glass of water while one of the other club wives let her lean on her shoulder.
A few days later, Dixie stood looking at the mess that had once been Luke Robert’s house. There was very little in the living room, kitchen or bedroom that hadn’t been shattered or crushed from the fight between the two alpha bears. In the bedroom was a stain where the body of Harlan Simmons had once lay. There was now a missing person’s report for him, but the club assured her he would never be found. She placed her hand on her stomach and smiled at the child the doctor had confirmed she was carrying and walked out of the house with the bags she had brought over days ago.
“You ready?” Luke asked as she stepped out.
“I’m ready,” she replied.
Luke nodded at a few of the club members and tossed Dixie’s bags in her car before kissing her softly on the cheek. She followed him down the road, glancing into her rear view mirror just in time to see the house go up in flames and bikes coming into view behind her. Twenty minutes later, she pressed the button on a garage door opener and watched Luke’s bike disappear inside the opening before pulling in beside him.
“Welcome to your new home,” Luke told her.
“It’s beautiful,” she replied, looking around the refurbished plantation home set far back off the road where no one would bother them.
“I’m glad you like it. I had planned on a much less dramatic transition from the old house to this one, but things didn’t work out quite like I planned them. There is just one thing lacking,” he told her.
“What is that?” she said.
“The other half of my plans when I bought this house for us,” he said.
Dixie watched as he fished something from his pocket and took her hand, slipping an antique black diamond onto her finger. She looked at it in surprise and then back at him.
“That ring has been passed down from generation to generation in my family. Now, it is yours and someday, our son will give it to the woman he loves. Will you marry me, Dixie?” he asked.
“Yes! Yes, I will!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him and kissing him passionately. Luke picked her up and carried her upstairs to their new bedroom. She was amazed at how quickly his body had healed from the fight with Harlan, a fight which she later learned he was ill equipped to fight after having changed so recently before it. At the end of the day, it seemed they had saved one another and could now spend their lives in peace, as could their unborn son. That was all that mattered.
*****
THE END
Brother’s Bear
"I work in the morning."
How Anna had both loved and loathed those words at the same time. When Gabriel Kempton had called her back, she'd been floored. After the lackluster reception of her final academic exhibition had stolen her chance at graduate school, she knew the only way into higher education was through completing an apprenticeship to garner real world experience. No opportunity had been beneath her, and Anna had launched her resume off to dozens of apprenticeship positions. That Gabriel Kempton of all people had been the only one to call her back had to be proof that she was meant to succeed. Working beneath his direction would not only look good on her future applications, but it would draw the eyes of the art world in her direction. Even if Gabriel was unsatisfied with her work, the fact that they would be associated would work in her favor.
But he worked in the mornings.
Anna couldn't remember the last time she'd willingly gotten out of bed before noon. Given the choice, she preferred to sleep through the afternoon. Mornings had never been her friend, and anyone who knew her had always planned around that fact accordingly. Anna Nightingale, her mother had sung to her in her teenage years, little lark, despises the light, favors the dark. But now the nightingale stood before the private art studios of Southview University, cup of bitterly black coffee in hand, while the sun rose on the horizon.
"This is your future, Anna," she whispered to herself, the words catching in the thick yarn of her maroon infinity scarf. She slipped her car keys into the small purse slung from her shoulder. "Just a year of early mornings, and then you'll be set for life. Suck it up."
Studio C3 was already lit up on the inside. In the early hour of the day little traffic passed, and the street lights had begun to fade to orange. It seemed like everyone else on the planet slept except for the man she knew lurked beyond the studio walls. And herself, of course. She hesitated before the door, wondering if she should knock or not. Better to be overly polite, she thought, than to be rude. Anna rapped upon the door.
"Come in," a voice called from inside. Although she could tell there was great volume behind it, the words barely bled through the door and she'd almost missed them. Had the morning not been so quiet, Anna was sure she never would have heard the invitation. Without wasting any more time, Anna entered the studio.
Had she to guess, Anna would have said that Gabriel Kempton had already been at work for hours. The largest block of marble she'd ever seen sat in the center of the studio upon a raised platform, its corners and sides already carved off. The pitched pieces lay haphazardly on the floor around the platform. Apart from a few messy tables pressed against the wall and two folding metal chairs tucked into them, the room was empty.
"I need you to start tidying the pieces that have fallen," Gabriel's voice instructed. He was behind the block of marble, out of her field of view. The end of the sentence was punctuated with the bright clang of a mallet striking down upon metal. A new piece of marble knocked loose and toppled to the ground. "Stack them all on one of the tables. We might be able to recycle the scrap for small projects."
No hellos, no good mornings. Had she not been so exhausted, Anna might have bristled at his lack of respect. A hasty sip of coffee silenced any sass. She set the cup down on one of the tables and made her way towards the marble.
"And when you're done that, then you can start to sweep." Gabriel stepped out from behind the marble, and Anna stopped in her tracks. Gabriel Kempton was the talk of the art world and the pride of Southview's Master of Fine Arts program, but every article she'd read about him and his accomplishments had only shown his face, focusing more upon his creations. While his facial features had been handsome, Anna had always assumed he'd look like a scrawny artist in person. The body she'd pictured and the man who stood before her were not one in the same.
Instead of narrow and lanky, Gabriel was cut and svelte. The grey t-shirt he wore stretched across his chest and filled out in the shoulders and arms, and although his muscles were not excessive, there was no question that they were visible. Toned arms, a firm chest, and a body that tapered into his hips, Gabriel looked more like a swimmer than a sculptor. Momentarily Anna wondered if she had nodded off to sleep and was imagining the whole thing. There was no way someone could look as handsome as he did while toiling away in a studio for fourteen hours a day.
The prolonged pause attracted Gabriel's attention, and he looked towards her for the first time. Anna glanced up into his dark eyes and noticed how they stared. Low self-confidence reared inside of her, allowing an uneasy feeling to bloom in the pit of her stomach. Most of the time she ignored the stares, but Gabriel was the only one in the room and he made no effort to hide that he was looking at her. Anna knew that she was curvy, too curvy to be considered conventionally beautiful by men like Gabriel, but she'd always considered herself pretty. Between a great wardrobe and the care she invested to keep her light auburn hair shimmering and styled, Anna had never let her size stop her. Yet here she was, arrested by Gabriel's gaze.
"Anna Nightingale?" Gabriel asked after a long silence. His eyes swept her down and then up, abso
rbing her every detail. The critical eyes of an artist ripped her apart, and Anna felt both exposed and breathless. There was something silently dominating about Gabriel's presence that let her on edge, uncomfortable and yet intrigued.
"That's me," Anna replied, voice smaller than she would have liked.
"It's nice to meet you," Gabriel said after a pause. His eyes lingered on her for a moment longer, and then he turned back to his work. "I look forward to working with you this year."
"Yeah," Anna whispered, the word little more than a squeak, "me too."
When his eyes darted away from her and back to the marble, the spell was broken. Pressure lifted from Anna's lungs, and she realized that she'd been holding her breath. She inhaled deeply and shook her head, freeing herself further from his spell, then set to work collecting the fallen pieces of stone.
By the end of the day, all Anna had done was collect discarded marble and sweep. Typically she would have complained, but watching Gabriel work was well worth the menial labor. Every time he struck at the block his biceps tensed and she could see how corded and strong they were. The sweat that lined his brow glistened, and the scent of pine and masculine undertones had leeched slowly through the room. Anna didn't consider herself boy crazy, but something about Gabriel grabbed her attention in a way no other guy had.
From time to time he'd engaged her in conversation. They'd spoken about her plans for school and the kind of media she liked to work with. Gabriel had told her a little bit about the marble sculpture exhibit he was preparing for, and invited her to sculpt some of her own statues from the leftover marble. By the end of the day, blissfully over by noon, Anna exited into the brisk fall air entirely smitten. Gabriel was like the marble he sculpted: smooth, classic, and flawless. Thoughts of him clouded her mind, and it wasn't until a hand clamped down upon her wrist that she realized someone had been trying to get her attention.
Gabriel Kempton stood at her side, his calloused hand holding her in place.