by Ava Frost
The stairs were white marble and a little bit slippery with late November frost. I willed myself not to slip and finally made it to the giant wooden french doors at the top. The doors looked like they weighed 200 pounds a piece and they had those old-timey brass knockers on the front. I glanced around for a doorbell but there was none, so I lifted the knocker, feeling a little silly, and knocked three times.
There was a space of about a minute between the moment I knocked and the moment the door opened. In those short sixty seconds I reconsidered my entire life plan. Maybe, I reasoned, I could just learn to live with the sudden bouts of violent rage. Maybe, I thought, some good, old fashioned, therapy would help me with the headaches and feelings of confusion and anger. Maybe, I considered, if I jumped behind that potted tree to the right of me on the step, they wouldn't see me when they answered the door and I could sneak away and pretend this never happened. I was just about to follow through with that plan when the door swung open.
A huge man suddenly stood right in front of me. When I say huge, I mean unusually enormous, more than merely tall. He was somewhere between six and seven feet tall, erring towards the seven. And he was not slightly built either. He wasn't particularly toned, but any fat content he held on his body was more than equaled out by what must have been considerable muscle beneath. He had a scraggly beard and wore an enormous red flannel shirt. He would have been terrifying if he wasn't smiling so kindly. He had these big brown eyes and shaggy, careless hair that, combined with his disarming smile, put me at ease despite his impressive bulk.
“Heyo! What've we got here eh? You lost, little one?” he boomed
I smiled, in spite of myself. I hadn't been called a little one since the summer between middle school and high school when I grew six inches taller in the space of three months.
“That's a definite possibility.” I answered. “I'm looking for Orso?” The odd name fumbled over my lips.
The giant man laughed heartily. “You and half the other pretty young things in the state, little one. I'll have to ask if he's expecting you.”
My heart sank. “He's not. I'm...I didn't make an appointment or anything. I'm actually looking for information about my birth mother.”
The man's caterpillar-like eyebrow rose.
“Her name was Evie.”
A shadow seemed to pass over the man's face. His smile sagged and his eyebrows lowered. “Come on in.” He said, stepping aside.
His reaction to my mother's name was so unexpected, and it made me feel even more nervous. I wanted to ask him if he knew her, but it seemed like he did and did not want to talk about it. I stepped inside and felt my eyes widen at the sight. The interior of the mansion was a mix between baroque grandeur, with tall sloping ceilings and white marble, and a luxury cabin, with exposed wood rafters and rustic touches. A grand staircase circled around on two sides leading to east and west wings that seemed to go on for ages.
“Might want to shut your mouth, sweetie. You'll catch flies.” The giant man said, his jovial attitude back.
I chuckled, snapping my jaw shut.
“This way.” He said, starting to climb the staircase. “My name is Greg, by the way.”
“Hi Greg...” I said. It seemed like too common of a name for someone as unique as him.
I followed him, listening for any sounds of life elsewhere in the mansion. At first all I could hear were our footsteps climbing the white marble staircase, but when we neared the top I thought I could hear the soft sounds of a faraway conversation in another room. He led me away from those noises, through to a room with a closed door.
“Just a sec, dear.” He said, walking in and closing the door behind him. I could barely make out the sounds of his voice from beyond the heavy wooden door, but I couldn't hear exactly what he was saying or to whom. I stood awkwardly, fidgeting with my fingers and looking around me. The whole place seemed to smell faintly of pine, mixed with the slight undertone of yesterday's roast.
After what felt like an age I was allowed into the room and the large man left me to my own devices.
It was an office. All mahogany and floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with antique looking books. If the hallway smelled like pine and cooking meat, this room smelled only of leather and wood polish. It was magnificent. I wanted to dive into those books and discover what they were. Novels? Almanacs? Hell, they could be fancy phone books for all I cared. I just wanted to touch them. I wasn't able to explore the room much further though, because suddenly I was struck by the penetrating gaze of the man who was, unmistakably, the alpha of the clan. Orso. He was seated behind a massive dark mahogany desk that was polished to a mirror shine.
My breath caught in my throat at the sight of him. My first thought was that he must be a movie star. He was dark and swarthy, with overgrown black hair and eyes so light blue they looked almost translucent. He was staring at me with an intensity that was decidedly uncomfortable and, despite my wishes to remain calm and confident, I felt myself start to squirm under his obvious scrutiny of my looks. Those frightening eyes swept over me slowly, starting from my shoes to the top of my head. When I had dressed that morning in my normal attire, a skirt and oversized sweater over warm leggings and boots, I hadn't put in any thought as to whether I looked attractive or not. But when this man looked at me like that I found myself hoping that he liked what he saw. I stood up a little straighter.
A slow smile quirked at his lips. His luscious, expressive lips...
Chapter 2
“Can I help you?”
I jumped. He chuckled. His voice had startled me. It was deep and sensual and seemed altogether too erotic for the situation at hand. I swallowed hard and jutted my chin out, regaining my focus.
“My name is Ursa MacIntyre.” I said, my voice sounding much more confident than I felt, thank heaven.
I gauged his reaction to my name. Like the giant man from the front door, he seemed surprised. I watched his arched eyebrows raise for a moment before settling down into that stern, inscrutable expression. He shook his head slowly.
“Not MacIntyre. You're Ursa Tallis. You’re Evie's girl.”
My heart did a flip at hearing my mom's name in his mouth. Hearing my mom's name said out loud at all, actually, was a new experience. My adoptive parents, well-meaning though they were, hardly ever spoke her name.
“Yes. I'm Evie's girl. Where is Evie?” I said. My heart pounded. What if she was there in the mansion? What if I was within moments of coming face to face with my mother?
Those nervous hopes were silenced with the change in expression on the man's face. That same cloud of sadness passed over him as it had the giant man. I knew in that moment that I wouldn't be seeing my mom. I saw him try to think of a way to tell me that she was dead, but I spared him the trouble.
“I came here today because I have a problem. I think you know what that problem is.” I continued. He looked relieved that I had changed the subject. He leaned back in the big leather chair, his smirk had returned, and he crossed his leanly muscled arms over his chest.
“What problem is that?”
He was smiling at me. Or was it sneering? He wanted me to say it out loud. But it sounded so absurd. I was embarrassed and felt like I'd been put on the spot. Could I really say that I thought I was a Werebear out loud? Even the word sounded silly. Like something a little kid thought up. I decided that “shifter” had a less ludicrous ring to it.
“Every so often I get these ridiculous headaches. My whole world goes black and I can't see anything but the pain behind my eyes. I get so angry. Rage like I've never felt before and it's never proportionate to what I am annoyed with. It's not just normal anger management issues. I know it. You know it. I'm turning into...something else. Shifting.”
“Shifting?” He smirked.
“Shifting. And I need help learning to control it. I'm afraid of hurting someone.”
He nodded sagely. “Yes, you look quite threatening.”
He was laughing at me. I set my ja
w and felt myself bristle, rising up to my full height. I did not come here to be laughed at, even if he was the most gorgeous man I'd ever laid eyes on. He wouldn't talk to me that way.
“Excuse me?” I said curtly. “I've come here for help because I don't know where else to go. There's nothing funny about what's happening to me. I just told you that I'm in pain and you make fun of me? What kind of alpha does that? What kind of leader?”
The man laughed and stood up. I took a measured breath, not wanting to gasp in front of him. He was tall, nearly as tall as the giant doorman. But where the doorman was all bulk and jolly strength, Orso was lean, almost gangly, and pointed. He was built like a swimmer, all smooth muscle and fluid movements. When he took a few steps toward me I had to tilt my chin up to keep eye contact with him. I knew he was doing it on purpose, trying to intimidate me. Or seduce me into submission. It wouldn't work.
“Do you know what an alpha is?” His voice was even deeper now. It seemed to vibrate in his chest like the chocolaty tones of an expensive cello. I felt my knees wobble and a heat rise in my chest, but I kept my face combative. He moved even closer to me and I willed him to keep his distance. When I could feel the heat between us I cursed my body for betraying my intentions to remain unmoved. He was close enough to wrap his arms around me, and I was all too keenly aware of that fact. He did not touch me, though. He merely stood there, literally looking down his nose at me. Towering over me. Trying to make me back down.
“No. That's why I'm here. Are you listening? I don't know anything.”
He laughed again. Even though he was laughing at me, I couldn't help but notice how full and sexy his laugh was. He was altogether intoxicating, from his voice to the small, fluid moments of his fingertips. He was that overwhelming kind of beautiful that almost makes you a little angry. Like, who the hell does he think he is, looking like that?
“That's obvious.” Orso said. “But what makes you think I can just drop everything that I'm doing to help you?” He gestured around the room. I followed the gesture, taking in the beautiful office once more.
“You don't look so busy to me.” I answered, narrowing my eyes at him. “And besides, you knew my mom. You'll help me. I know you will.”
His expression turned serious, and so began my training.
Chapter 3
Training with Orso was not at all straightforward. The problem was, it was perfectly easy for me to control my emotions when I was stable. It was never until I got angry or afraid that the searing headache would happen and I'd start to feel like I was too big for my skin. That painful stretching feeling always made me panic, which only made it worse. A part of me expected that, in order to train me to control these episodes, he would have to provoke me. But that didn't make me any happier about it.
“If you weren't such a delicate little twit you wouldn't be having so hard a time with this.” He said, his tone bored.
I rolled my eyes. “It's not working. You can't make me mad by insulting me. In order for that to work I would have to give a flying fuck what you think of me. Please tell me you have a better plan than tame, baseless insults to bring out my.....you know.”
He smirked at me. The condescending smile as arousing as it was infuriating. “Your bear. You are a bear. A great big, lumbering, mama bear. You can say it. You're among friends.”
“Am I?”
He shrugged. “It's all well and good when you’re cuddled up at home, noshing on berries and sleeping in late. But we all know what happens when a mama bear is startled or something comes between her and her cubs.”
“I don't have any cubs.” I retorted. He was wasting my time, telling me what I already knew.
“I wouldn't threaten them if you did. Alpha or not, only an idiot goes after a bear woman's babies.”
“So, what then? I'll never learn how to control myself in my other form if I can't shift during training.”
He had sidled up to me, close enough to reach out and touch. I was painfully aware of his proximity, but had been trying to ignore it. He made that impossible when he stepped even closer to me and touched me, his fingertips just grazing the inside of my wrist. My breath hitched in my throat and I felt a heavy warmth settle deep in my belly.
“What are you--” I said, my voice coming out in a whisper.
“If I can't make you angry, I'll just have to startle you.” He said. I had no time to dissect what he meant by that vaguely threatening comment before he was crushing my lips under his. My pulse quickened and I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. As embarrassing as it is to admit it, even though he was an insufferable cocky prick, my body reacted to his kiss instinctively. Animalistically, even.
For a moment I melted against him. His body was hard and taut and intensely warm and comforting. His kiss was greedy, but I didn't mind.
Until I did. I came back to my senses in an instant and my initial submission shattered away into rage. I stepped back from him and slapped him soundly across the face. I got an extreme satisfaction at seeing his head whip to the side and a red mark begin blooming on his cheek.
“That was totally uncalled for!” I seethed. “You think you can just....Just because you're used to girls throwing themselves at...How dare you....” My words tumbled over each other, I could feel my thoughts becoming disjointed, and a sudden stabbing pain jolted through my head.
The last thing I remember is Orso lunging at me, wrapping his arms around me tight and pinning my arms to my side.
I woke up with a gasp. My hands flew instinctively to my head, which was pounding. My skin felt tight and dry and uncomfortable. I felt like I was coming out of a bad fever, with all the aching muscles and the foggy perception. I heard someone shush me gently and lay a cooling cloth on my forehead, gently pushing me back down onto what must have been a bed.
“Ow.” I whimpered.
I heard a quiet chuckle. “You're alright.” It was Orso's voice, but it was different than I'd ever heard him before. There was no teasing, no suggestive subtext, no smirk in his voice. Only concern.
“I know I am.” I said, still clutching the sides of my head. “Don't sound so worried. It has never killed me before.”
I heard him sigh and felt the bed next to me shift. He was sitting down next to me. I peeked out from one eye to catch a glimpse of his silhouette against a painfully bright window. He adjusted the cloth on my forehead.
“I owe you an apology, Ursa.”
“Hold on. I want to get this in writing.” I muttered. I swore I could hear him smile.
“Really. It's just that...I think I'd forgotten how painful it is for people like you. People raised outside the clan. Normally shifters are raised from the time they are little more than babies to expect and control their shifts. To grow up with none of that support, and have it all suddenly come out all at once...I'm just...sorry, alright? I'm sorry. I should have started off slower.”
The pain in my head was beginning to subside slightly. I let my arms fall down by my side and for the first time I noticed how nice the bed I was on was. It was plush and pristine white and smelled faintly of huckleberry. It was like laying on a cloud.
“Is this your bed?” I asked, uncomfortable in the wake of his apology. I didn't yet know how to react to this softer, emotional side of Orso. I felt him shift on the bed, inching away from me.
“It is. I felt bad about making you shift so violently. And I didn't necessarily want to broadcast my failure to the rest of the house.”
I would have rolled my eyes if I felt better. Of course he'd be more concerned with his reputation than my own preferences.
“It didn't occur to you that I might not relish the idea of waking up from a blackout in your bed after you sexually assaulted me?”
“What?!” He said, aghast. “I didn't sexually assault you. It wasn't like I was really making a move. I was trying to get you to shift, not seduce you. Trust me, if I'm trying to seduce you, you'll know it. And you won't slap me across the face either.”
“I'm sur
e you get away with lots of shady crap because of how you look. But if you kiss me without my consent again you'll get more than a slap. You can bet on that.” I spat, squinting at him angrily despite my sensitivity to the brightness of the room.
He raise his hands, palm up. “I'm sorry. I already said I was sorry. Damn.”
I mentally accepted his apology but I don’t think I managed to say so out loud. I fell back asleep and when I woke up again it was dark. I was still in Orso’s bed but, as I strained my ears to listen, I couldn’t hear anyone else moving around the room or even the sounds of breathing other than my own. He wasn’t there. I sat up in the bed and looked around, but the room was so dark it was hard to make out anything other than looming shapes in the darkness. I fumbled to the door and stepped into the hallway which was, thankfully, warmly lit. Driven by a creeping feeling of dread at being alone in the giant mansion at night, I padded down the hallway until I found a door left ajar, with brighter light spilling into the hallway. I pushed it open to find Orso sitting at a table, a laptop open in front of him and a big plate of blackberry pie next to it. The food was apparently forgotten and he was typing away.