Perfection

by Anna Lowe

  They circled each other clockwise, then turned and circled the other way, trying to outdo each other with long, continuous growls that had her dizzy before too long. His lips curled as if this were a game and not life or death. As if he was enjoying it, damn it, which only infuriated her more.

  Grrrrrrr, he hummed. Just try to keep this up, little wolf.

  Grrrrrrr, she replied, lifting her lips to show more of her gums. Watch me, stupid bear.

  His heavy brows went up and he tilted his head. Stupid?

  Stupid, she nodded. Half a second later, she choked in surprise. Whoa. Was that his voice in her mind?

  No, it’s your voice in my mind, he shot back, staring at her. Just like it’s you, little wolf, in my den.

  Her jaw dropped. Her knees shook. Wolves from the same pack could send thoughts into one another’s minds, but that form of communication rarely worked with outsiders. And speaking with bears that way was unheard of. The wolf elders conducted their limited business with the bear clan in human form. Telepathy was impossible when it came to bears.

  Not for mates, her wolf corrected her, all fluttery-eyed.

  Jess growled loudly, trying to drive foolish thoughts away along with the unknown bear. A good thing he hadn’t seemed to hear her wolf’s crazy thoughts.

  Not crazy. It’s destiny, her wolf insisted. Or was that another voice, carried by the wind?

  The bear raised his chin and took a good, long sniff. Then he stepped forward, placing one massive paw in front of the other until she had no choice but to back up. And up and up, until he had her crowded with her rump against the wall and her muzzle pointed nearly straight up in an effort to maintain eye contact.

  For one crazy second, she imagined him in human form and in a different time and place. Imagined a handsome stranger she’d drunk one too many drinks with or indulged in one too many a dance. He’d be the strapping, lumberjack type, big and tough and hard-edged everywhere but those soft, pink lips and that golden, curling hair. She imagined one thing leading to another and him backing her against a wall, bringing their bodies very, very close. He’d cage her in with his arms and lean in slowly. His unshaved jaw would open slightly, and he’d look at her, half requesting, half demanding a kiss. A kiss she could already imagine herself delivering. Melting into, in fact, until it was her pressing her body against his and not the other way around. Until it was her tongue testing the seam of his lips. It would be her happy hum filling her dazed mind, and her hands wandering across his broad back.

  The wind wailed outside, and she shook herself back out of the vision. Whoa. What the hell had come over her?

  She blinked up at the bear, but his eyes were closed, and a blissful expression drifted over his face.

  Told you, her wolf insisted. Our destined ma—

  She gave the wolf an internal slap and briefly considered jumping at his exposed throat. Not that she could bite through that thick ruff, but a surprise move might buy her enough time to make her escape — escape from the bear and from the wild urges coursing through her veins.

  But just as quickly as the idea entered her mind, she discarded it. Fleeing out into the snowstorm would get her nowhere at all.

  On the other hand, staying in the cave would get her somewhere, all right — like into his arms. Into his arms and into trouble. Deep, deep trouble, because the wolves of her pack didn’t mix with bears. Not the way her body was begging for. No way.

  Not as a wolf and a bear, silly, the inner voice said. As a man and a woman. Skin to skin.

  His eyes slid open a lot slower than hers had, and the shine in them echoed the image in her mind. The image of a man and a woman, getting closer and closer and closer still. Hungry for each other, and hungry for more than a dance or a drink.

  Jessica gulped, staring up at the dreamy-eyed bear.

  A bear with a clean, oaky scent and pure, honest eyes.

  A bear whose eyes narrowed as he licked his lips.

  Chapter Three

  Simon tried not to stare. He really did. But every nerve in his body seemed to pulse with a dozen mixed messages at the same time.

  Kiss her.

  Kill her.

  Lick her.

  Take her.

  Throw her out.

  Touch her.

  Talk to her.

  Make her mine.

  Which meant he had no hope in hell of getting his eyes to stop bugging out any time soon. No hope of doing anything but standing very, very still.

  Mate. Mine. Mine! his bear roared inside.

  A good thing that message didn’t slip out, because he’d deafen the both of them with the force of that roar.

  Breathe in. Breathe out, he ordered himself. Breathe deeply and quit scaring her.

  The tough little she-wolf was trying not to show it, but her knees trembled and her eyes were a mile wide. Not that he was far off the feeling himself. His heart was revving on overdrive, his pulse thundering through his veins. His whole body was hot in a way it had no business feeling after all those hours in the blizzard outside. He’d been in the den since the day before, but something dragged him out into the thick of the storm. A strange, overpowering need to find something or someone. But he hadn’t found anything, not out in the storm, anyway, so he’d lumbered back to the den, and there she was, all fur and fangs and feverish eyes that said her soul was every bit as shaken by the encounter as he was.

  He took another careful sniff and just about keeled over from what her scent did to him. A shower of sparks burned through his veins.

  Mate?

  Of course, he’d heard the stories. He’d watched and listened to his shiny-eyed parents recall how they’d known the second they met that they belonged together forever. He’d heard the same thing from other bear elders, over and over again. But those stories always ended the same way.

  And someday, son, they said, you’ll find a nice bear of your own.

  A bear. Not a wolf. No one ever mentioned having a wolf of his own, because it didn’t work that way. Bears mated with bears, boars mated with boars, and wolves mated with wolves. End of story.

  Not my story, his bear insisted. Not our story.

  Which was nuts. His destined mate couldn’t possibly be a wolf. Wolves lived in big, inbred packs. Wolves were always rushing around. They hurried through the woods without taking time to watch the light filtering through the leaves. They ran straight through meadows without stopping to inhale the wildflowers. Wolves passed up the best honey in the juiciest beehives, high in the trees. Wolves howled at the moon, for goodness’ sake!

  He shook his head just the way the clan elders did at the very thought. The moon was something to worship quietly, not howl at.

  He could picture his mother shaking her head now. Wolves are flighty, cowardly things.

  Grrrrrrr. The little she-wolf kept right on snarling, holding her ground.

  His bear let out a proud little chuff. My she-wolf isn’t flighty or cowardly or any of those things.

  Whoa. His she-wolf? Seriously? How could that be?

  Wolf shifters mixed all too freely with humans, just like dogs did. The occasional wolf shifter even found himself a human mate. At least, that’s what Simon had heard. The Black River wolves had never crossed that line, but they maintained far too many ties to humans through commercial concerns.

  Bear shifters, on the other hand, kept to themselves. They stuck to the backwoods, ran their lumber mill, and lived in small circles made up of those they could trust. Bears stuck with safe — safe and smart.

  So why was he so, so tempted to do something so dumb?

  Grrrrrrr. The she-wolf grumbled on and on.

  He looked her up and down. He always figured he’d find his destined mate at some later point in life. Like in another ten years or so, when he was closer to thirty-five or forty and good and ready to settle down. And he had always been sure he’d find his mate after an arduous thousand-mile trek across the continent in search of some ephemeral scent. He never figure
d she’d find him. Not here. Not now. Not like this.

  And he never, ever figured on a wolf.

  What’s wrong with a wolf? his bear demanded, suddenly open to things he’d never even considered before.

  He shook his head. Nothing wrong with a wolf, just something wrong with him. His mind wasn’t functioning properly, not in this cold. He’d been too busy lately to take up his female clanmates on their offers of intimate fun. Maybe that was why the human part of his mind was getting carried away, imagining what the sleek wolf would look like on two feet. She’d be the no-nonsense, jeans-wearing type, he’d bet, with shiny, wistful eyes and glossy, cocoa-colored hair just like her wolf’s sleek coat. He’d bet she moved as gracefully in human form as she did now — trembling knees aside — and tilt her chin up just as defiantly. God, if he’d met her in a bar, he’d have danced a dozen dances, then pulled her aside to somewhere quiet and boxed her in just like this. He’d show her how much he wanted her, and then he’d put the ball in her court.

  God, he could kiss a woman like her. He could love a woman like her. He could—

  He coughed and cleared his throat before he got too carried away. Which only made the she-wolf growl harder, so he backed away, giving her some space. He backed right up to the opposite side of the den and sat down, contemplating the wolf.

  Contemplating my mate, his bear corrected.

  Sure. The wolf who’d called him a stupid bear.

  And we heard her in our mind, right? his bear pointed out. Only our mate could do that.

  He squinted at her, wondering if the bear could be right. Maybe he’d just imagined it. Maybe he ought to test it out.

  Boo, he murmured, sending the thought right into her mind.

  She scowled. Boo?

  Okay, it was the first thing he could think of. Better than saying, Testing, testing, one, two, three.

  Stupid bear, she muttered, and the words echoed through his mind.

  Christ, he was stupid if that was the best he could do with his mate. But it didn’t seem the time to start reciting poetry, either.

  Maybe not so stupid, he said. I’ve got myself a nice den here. The perfect place to sit out a storm. Would you prefer it outside?

  She glared back.

  Okay, not the slickest words with which to woo his mate. His mind spun for something better.

  A nice place to keep warm until the storm blows out, he added.

  Especially with my mate, his bear rumbled. A comment he hoped to hell didn’t make it all the way over to her mind.

  She looked around and sniffed. It’s all right. For a bear den, I mean.

  He grinned. She had pluck, all right.

  Good place to keep warm, he pointed out.

  Snuggly, his bear added before he batted the thought aside.

  Still a little chilly, she shivered as the wind howled to new heights outside. She tried hiding the next thought, but it snuck through as a faint whisper. And night’s coming on fast.

  Which would make it even colder, he knew.

  His bear shrugged. Just snuggle closer.

  Right, like he’d come out and tell her that.

  Make you a deal, little she-wolf, he said.

  Every muscle in her body seemed to bunch, ready to flee. What kind of deal?

  We help each other out.

  Help? How?

  Well, he started, trying not to sound too eager, I keep you warm…

  She backed away, eyes wide.

  And you keep me warm, he finished quickly. Nothing else.

  She snorted exactly the way his bear did on the inside. Sure. Nothing else.

  Nothing you don’t want, he assured her.

  She lifted a paw and warmed it against her belly. Yeah, she was cold, all right.

  All I want, she insisted, is to survive this night.

  His heart cramped a little. Maybe she meant it. Maybe she didn’t feel the pull the way he did.

  Me, too, he lied. Deal?

  Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. I don’t even know you.

  Voss. Simon Voss.

  She cocked her head slightly in recognition of the name. The Voss family had led his small bear clan for generations.

  Now it’s your turn to introduce yourself, wolf, he prompted.

  She showed her teeth.

  You’re the one in my den, he said. It’s not like I snuck into yours.

  She considered for a moment, then gave a tiny wolf nod. Jessica. Jessica Macks.

  He answered with his own nod, trying not to show his surprise. Macks was the wolf pack alpha. Her father?

  Jessica Macks, she repeated, more firmly. And all I want is to survive this night. Nothing else.

  Yeah, he got the message, though he didn’t believe she meant it. Not all of her, at least. Behind those bristling teeth and angry ears was the sticky-sweet scent of a female aroused.

  Nothing you don’t want. He nodded in reassurance.

  It took every bit of willpower he had to let go of her eyes and turn away. He settled down with his back to the entrance of the den and puffed out his thick coat to catch his body heat. He curled up in the hay like he did before every bear nap, though every nerve in his body quivered. Would she join him? Would she trust him?

  For a long minute, the air seemed colder and stiller than ever before, but then a cautious footstep rustled through the bed of dry grass. One, then another, and another, until her breath heated the fur of his back. She turned her head this way and that, and though he couldn’t see her, he could picture her weighing up what to do. She could lie down next to his back in an aloof but more exposed position, or she could curl up along his belly and chest.

  Much cozier up front, his bear said, quietly coaxing her on as she stood undecided. So warm and snuggly. You would fit so well right here…

  He wanted her between his paws, tight up against his chest. Nice and snuggly and warm where she’d be safe.

  Nice and snuggly and warm, his bear promised.

  And nothing else? she whispered back.

  Nothing you don’t want.

  She went perfectly still, and he wondered how deeply she read into his words.

  He held his breath as she slowly, quietly maneuvered around and folded her body along the curve of his chest. She left a chaste inch between them at first, but when the hay settled under her weight, she nestled right against his body.

  His bear just about groaned with pleasure, and he hurried to cover the sound with a murmur. See? Nice and warm.

  And it was. Superwarm. Supernice. He took a deep breath, and wow, she smelled even better close up than from afar. God, she was perfect. Not bristly like a bear and quiet as a mouse. But a hum seemed to emanate from her body the way it would from an electric plant. Her tail flicked once, tickling his belly, then curled away.

  She fit right into the curve of his body, not an inch too long or short. As if she’d been tailored for him, or he’d been tailored for her. The rise and fall of her chest echoed his, and although both their hearts raced along, they beat in exactly the same time.

  They were perfect. The two of them.

  Perfect, he nearly murmured into her mind. But he held his tongue and listened to her heart beat instead. Perfect.

  She didn’t speak, but a sigh of — relief? satisfaction? — traveled through her body and jumped over to his. Still, the rigid arch of her back sent every bit as a clear a warning.

  Remember, all I want is to survive the night.

  Chapter Four

  Jessica was lying, and she knew it. The bear shifter had to know it, too, because bears had even keener noses than wolves, and the scent of her arousal was nearly as obvious as the peppery odor of her fear.

  Jesus, was she really cuddled up with a bear? With a shifter she didn’t even know?

  Sure am, her wolf grinned ear to ear. And God does it feel good.

  That’s what scared her — how good it felt. How right.

  My bear, her wolf hummed. Casually, like the beast meant a teddy bear and
not two-hundred-plus pounds of muscle, fur, and fangs.

  Just think of what kind of man goes with a body like this, her wolf said in a sultry undertone.

  Her heart beat faster, imagining just that.

  You good? he murmured into her mind.

  See? Her wolf told her. A gentleman. A bear with honor.

  Funny, Jessica hadn’t known there was such a thing. Not the way wolves talked about bears. Her father respected the Voss clan, but she’d always assumed that was based on their size, not their cunning or their virtue. What happened to bears supposedly being uncouth and uncivilized?

  She thought over all she’d ever heard about bears. Chewed on it a while, then wondered if bears talked about wolves in the same way. Did they harbor as many suspicions? As many prejudices?

  Hey, he said even more softly. Are you okay?

  Fine. She had to clear her throat just to get the word out past the tickle of shame. Fine. Thank you.

  You’re welcome. The bear rumbled in satisfaction as he sent the words into her mind.

  And that was it. He lay quietly behind her, not moving, not trying any dirty tricks. Keeping her blissfully warm and snug. No wandering paws, no lusty breaths. Just that metronome of a beating heart, lulling her to sleep.

  She tried keeping her eyes open and her back stiff, but that proved impossible. It was like snuggling under a down blanket on a late winter night with a fire crackling in the hearth and her grandmother retelling her favorite story for the hundredth time.

  It’s because I’m exhausted, she told herself. Not because of him.

  Sure, her wolf yawned dreamily. Nothing to do with him.

  She lapsed into sleep much faster and deeper than she ought to have for a wolf caught trespassing on bear turf. Started dreaming almost the second her eyes shut, in fact, and reveled in sweet, sunny dreams that carried her right back to summertime. Or rather, ahead to summertime, because it was more glorious than any summer she remembered. Maybe it was a summer in the future or just a fantasy summer, an amalgamation of the best days of every summer she’d ever lived or imagined. The kind with long, cloudless days followed by clear, starry nights. With tall wildflowers swaying in the meadows and bees buzzing between blades of grass. A dozen little brooks would spring up and babble as the snow in the mountains gradually thawed. The kind of summer you spent wandering and sniffing and looking, just for the joy of it all.