by Ava Frost
“Nothing went wrong, but you are pregnant,” he said dropping the bomb like a balloon filled with cold water.
“I’m pregnant?” she exclaimed and sat up.
“Easy there,” Grant said and squeezed her hand, “the child is growing fine, and very soon we will be proud parents of our own cub.”
“But how?” Delilah asked, she would never have expected to fall pregnant, she was meticulous when it came to taking birth control, so there’s no way that she could have fallen pregnant after just one magical night. “I was on birth control.”
Grant laughed, “If you were human, that may have worked, but being impregnated by someone who contains the same DNA genome, will render birth control useless. Why do you think veterinarians haven’t yet found birth control for animals?”
Delilah was shocked, but the thought of having her own child was something that warmed her heart and even if he was illegitimate, she would love him with all her heart.
“I don’t plan on him being illegitimate,” Grant said and chuckled then tapped his temple.
Obviously he could hear or read her every thought, she thought and then glared playfully at him, “Don’t you go digging around in my brain,” she said and wagged a finger at him.
He held up his hands in surrender, “I’m afraid I won’t be able to help myself. I want to know everything about you. And I want to marry you.”
Delilah gasped and covered her mouth with her hand as tears sprung to her eyes.
“You’re going to have to teach me the tricks of the trade,” she said with a trembling lip.
“It will come naturally, as soon as the cub is born, your own strength will return and you will be able to start using your power of telepathy. Now, was that a yes, or do you want me to beg?” Grant said raising a brow.
Delilah simply smiled at him and then reached out to trace the scar that ran down the side of his face.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Grant leaned over and pressed his lips against hers, he hadn’t needed to say the words, but she heard them and she felt them.
THE END
Good Cop Bear Cop
Chapter 1
***Erica***
It had been a long, hard day at the office. I'd been stressed practically to the breaking point, and by the time five o'clock rolled around I was out the front door like a bat out of hell- perhaps a bit too quickly, in fact. And that was how my initial ensnarement into this messed up situation I found myself in first began. Although, of course, there was no way I could have known that at the time.
At that moment, my only concern was getting out of those stifling walls, away from the judgmental, and sometimes ogling gaze of my boss, Mr. Simmons. He was a wealthy man, and had built his tech company from the ground up. I was his assistant, and lately it seemed like the pace was relentless. No matter how hard I scrambled to meet his every whim, it seemed as though I could never keep up with things, and the stress was driving me crazy. I tried, so damn hard, to please him.
I needed this job right now. Up to now, I'd done nothing of any significance with my life. I'd dropped out of college a year in, unsure of what the hell I wanted to do with myself. I'd then since sort of bounced from one dead end job to another, unable to hope for any sort of a career or a position with any opportunity for advancement, without a degree under my belt. I was left scraping by, trying to pay back what I'd borrowed in student loans for that first year of school while also saving up to finish the course, to go back to school for business or something like that, and get out from other people's thumbs to the humiliating extent I now found myself under them.
Of course, I knew there was probably no real room for advancement in life for a girl such as myself. I knew that, at best, I should have a career as a cog in a machine to look forward to, a pencil pusher... A career working in a stuffy little office seemed an inescapable fate for me, but at least maybe I could hope for something a bit more dignified and better paid than what I took on now. And then spend that extra money on paying back my student loans...
God... It really felt as though my prospects for a decent life were hopeless, whenever I thought about it too hard.
Still, though, I couldn't just resign myself to my present fate, now could I? Working for Mr. Simmons was an absolutely agonizing experience, on so many levels that it made my head spin. I'd been set up with him through a friend of mine, Denise, who'd actually done something with her life. She'd started out as an intern, gotten to know Mr. Simmons, and greased the wheels for me when she found out I'd been having a rough time with things. She'd since flown the coop, moving onto greener pastures, as it were, and taking on an even better position while I was left babysitting her former boss.
But still, compared to anything I'd done up to this point, the pay was tremendous, and as far as that was concern I had to at least confess to feelings of gratitude toward Denise for hooking me up. But God, did Mr. Simmons treat me like dirt... Always yelling at me, making me feel as though my job was hanging on by nothing but a thread. And perhaps even worse, when he wasn't outright abusing me in that manner, he was shamelessly gawking at and objectifying me, looking down my blouse, staring at my ass any time I happened to bend over.
I felt so insecure and vulnerable any time he happened to be around.
Still, though, I knew I had very little recourse as far as changing things was concerned. I just had to grin and bear it, letting my complaints to co-workers in the break room serve as my only means of venting, and reminding myself that, in the end, I was doing this all, putting up with this bullshit for my own benefit.
God, I wished that I could have a life like Mr. Simmons', though. Being able to snap my fingers and have people follow my orders, taking home a huge paycheck for sitting around on my ass and doing nothing all day... And I would be sure, if I ever did find myself in such a position of power, that I treated those beneath me with far greater respect than he did, and never forget that I, too, had once been a position of subservience and need.
But, for that matter, I knew that was all just good-willed sentiment. I didn't have a hope in hell of reaching the same heights in life as a successful man like that.
Today had been an especially humbling day, and I couldn't get to the bar fast enough to drink away my problems once it was all over at last. I kept making eyes with the men around me at the bar, flirting and hoping someone might invite me home with them, but though I was curvy and attractive, usually quite capable of seduction, I think I must have looked just about as miserable as I felt just then, and to some extent I think I succeeded in scaring away anyone who might have shown signs of interest in me.
So, instead of finding someone to sleep with, I really only succeeded in getting drunk off of my ass, downing glass after glass of alcohol and getting tipsy damn fast, my head spinning, and my mood getting increasingly worse despite the lightheaded effects of the drinks I poured into my system.
I had my throbbing head on the bar at one point, less drunk and more simply miserable from the way the day had gone, when I realized with further annoyance that I'd left my phone back at the office. I patted myself down just to make sure, but then cursed, knowing it was hopeless.
Of all the things in the world I didn't want to be doing just then, I now found myself obligated to go back to the office and pray that the custodians would still be in, and the building hadn't been locked up for the weekend.
Like I said, I wasn't too drunk, but I thought it better not to risk driving. I called a cab, and held my head all the way to the office, my temples throbbing like they were on the verge of bursting. I just wanted to hurry and get my goddamn cell phone, and go home.
Yet nothing could have prepared me for the drastic turn further south that my evening was about to take once I stepped into the building.
Chapter 2
***Preston***
It was nine o'clock on a Friday evening when I first met Erica. The circumstances of our first encounter, as you'll see soon enough, were far
from ideal.
She'd called in to report a homicide at the office where she worked, and it was my understanding that she'd sounded predictably shaken up when placing the call. I'd been the first to arrive on the scene, having been patrolling in the area, and God, she looked so frightened and vulnerable when I came up on her. Her eyes were wide, and she shook all over, and I felt so sorry for her... And yet, in spite of all of that, I couldn't help but be struck by her unspeakable beauty.
I know it's a stupid thing to get caught up on when a man's just been murdered, but I would be lying if I said my eyes didn't catch on her for several seconds, dripping along her form, and sizing up the delicacy of her perfect anatomy. She was a curvy girl- just my type... Full and voluptuous, with her curves in all the right places. She wore a low cut blouse, her tremendous breasts forming a generous slice of cleavage that I couldn't help but take note of. She had round, full hips, a beautiful face, and eyes that shone with an innocence that I found strangely erotic, perhaps charged more intensely with the tension of the situation.
And God, I know I must sound like the world's biggest creep for feeling all of these things under such circumstances... Don't get me wrong, I'm not proud of myself for reacting this way. I'd never had this happen before. I'd never been so completely bowled off my feet by the sight of a woman, all while pitying her for what I could predict would be a rather long and winding road ahead given what she'd just phoned into the police. I didn't mean to let myself become so immediately susceptible to her charms, and I knew that I was compromising myself in doing so, but I just couldn't help it.
After several seconds of staring at her, I at last cleared my throat, and tried to snap back into my official capacity as a police officer. She seemed not to notice my unprofessional behavior, shaken up as she was, and for that, at least, I was relieved.
“Are you alright, ma'am?” I asked, perhaps a bit redundantly.
She shook her head slowly, her eyes wide, and then pointed me into the office behind her. “He's in there,” she said, her hand outstretched to the door. I noticed that her palms were covered in blood, and naturally this set off some alarm bells. Still, though, her demeanor didn't seem like it fit with the sort of person who'd just killed a man. She seemed legitimately shaken up by what she said she'd encountered, and for the time being I just had to take her at her word that the events that had taken place happened according to what she told me.
I slowly stepped inside, my gun drawn just to be safe, but there was no need.
The only human presence was as dead as a doornail, if you'll pardon my directness. He was slumped back in a cushy looking office chair, a knife in his heart, his dress shirt covered with blood.
“I... I was at the bar,” she told me, shivering, when I asked her to tell me her story. “I... It had been a long day, and... I forgot my cell phone... Oh, Jesus...”
“It's okay, please, just take things slow.” My eyes went to the forensics team who'd since come along, taping up the scene, and I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. Even if this girl, who I suddenly felt inexplicable affection for, turned out to be innocent, did she really stand much of a chance of being believed under the circumstances?
She breathed in deep, staring at me. My presence, I could tell, seemed to calm her down just a bit, and she actually smiled at me. I knew this was neither the time nor the place (nor the person, for that matter,) but I couldn't help but feel myself growing aroused by her, hardening, I took a deep swallow.
She continued, a little bit more steadily now. “Thank you,” she said, then added as a side note, “You have a very calming presence...” I smiled, and she resumed her story properly. “So, I came back to the office to get my phone. I thought for sure I'd left it at my desk, so I took a cab here. When I got here the door was unlocked, which I thought was strange. I mean, I'd thought maybe the janitors were still here or something, but I didn't see anyone. I called out a couple of times, but no one answered. I kind of hesitated, because I didn't want to get in trouble. But I thought, since I worked here, and I just wanted to get my phone, it would be alright.
“Anyway, my phone was right where I thought it would be, but when I got here to the desk to pick it up, I noticed the door to Mr. Simmons' office was ajar. I could hear sounds, coming from inside, but there were no lights on. I was afraid, but... Well, I don't think I really let myself believe it could be anything that bad, and I was a little bit drunk.
“Without really thinking about it, I opened the door, and even though the lights were off, I could see clearly what was happening. They were both completely in shadow, my boss and the woman...”
“The woman?” I asked, this third party's presence just now being mentioned.
“Yeah, she... The killer...”
“Can you describe this woman?” I asked, turning to a new page in my notes.
“Like I said, it was dark, I... She was thin... Fairly young... Maybe a little bit older than me, I don't know... White, I think...”
“Hair color? Or...”
She shook her head. “Like I said, I didn't get too clear of a look. And anyway, I was too panicked just then. I saw she had a knife in my boss's chest, just... Stabbing him, over and over again...”
At this point, she had to stop for a moment, tears welling up in her eyes. I extended a handkerchief to her, and she dabbed away the liquid, trying to get herself under control. “Anyway...” she continued. “She freaked out when she saw me... I don't think she'd expected anyone to show up, and she kind of just bolted. She could have just killed me, but she left the knife in... Left the knife inside him and ran right past me... I should have tried to stop her, I know, but... But I was just too stunned, and frightened...”
“No, I think you did the right thing not trying to confront her, from the sounds of it... You had no way of knowing how dangerous she might have still been...”
“Yeah, I... Anyway... She was gone now, and... Well, I was in shock... He still had that knife in his chest... But somehow he was still alive, struggling, and I didn't know what the hell I should do. I mean, obviously, I knew I needed to call for help, but this felt like it was, a matter of seconds or something... I reached up to try and help him, to pull the knife out- like I said, I was drunk, and not thinking right, and I thought I could still fix it somehow... But then, once my hands were around it, and he was shivering, I caught myself just in time. I thought about how you're supposed to leave knives in in these cases or something, I don't know... And anyway, it didn't seem like there was much of a chance for him anyway. I hurried to call 911 once I came back to my senses, and I tried to stay with him as long as I could- I'm his assistant... Was, but... But... He was completely gone five minutes before you got here...”
She choked up with tears at this point, breaking down, and I just couldn't stand to see her in that state.
“Oh come on... It's alright... It's alright... Everything's going to be okay...” And as unprofessional, as potentially unethical as it may have been, I simply couldn't help myself. I wrapped my arms snugly around her, and pulled her into my chest, trying to soothe her, and letting her ear rest up against my beating heart.
It seemed to do the trick of calming her down.
Chapter 3
***Erica***
They let me go, after like, hours. Finding Mr. Simmons had pretty much sobered me up by now, and they'd given me coffee as I answered round after round of their questions. The man who first interviewed me, Preston, had been easy enough on me. Maybe I was letting myself be too trusting, and maybe it was just some good cop, bad cop routine, but when he'd put his arms around me to comfort me, it had genuinely worked. I kind of begrudged him, because I knew that these officers all must have thought I did it, and it's hard not to feel just a little bit bitter about that fact when you're the one who called the scene in and was forced to watch your boss die.
But, in spite of the prejudices I might have had against the force just before then, it was hard not to fall for Preston's supplications. He wa
s tall, dark, muscular, and handsome, and he was the precise sort of studly gentleman I might have liked to have come into my night before all of this had happened.
To think, that just before now, my only concern had been going home with someone at the end of the night.
My brush with death survived intact, I now found the imperative for sex and company roaring back with full force, and Preston, in all his kindness, and with his handsome, yet mysterious demeanor, seemed to evoke in me something primal, urgent, that I couldn't quite get around.
It didn't make things a bit easier that, finally, he volunteered to drive me back home for the evening.
I'd been let go, but told not to leave town while the officers tried to sort all this out. I knew I was still a suspect, but they didn't have enough to charge me with yet, apparently. This scared me, but not quite as much as when Preston told me he was done with his shift for the evening, and since the taxi that had brought me here had long since departed, he would gladly take me back to my place.
As we drove along through the darkness, the sexual tension only rose and rose between the two of us. I could tell he felt it too, and eventually he turned the radio on, seemingly as a means of breaking the ice between the two of us.
“Ooh, I love this song,” I said, when an upbeat tune from the seventies came over the airwaves.
“Really?” he said, smiling at me. “So do I...” He turned the volume up, and sure enough, we found ourselves warming up to one another in short enough order. At first, we were both just sort of bobbing our heads to the music, and then it got to the point where he was tapping his hand against the steering wheel in time with the beat of the song.
I don't know if it was the stress of that whole evening demanding a release, or what exactly, but before either of us knew it we were actually singing along to the tune- quite terrible sounding, I must say- but of course we didn't care about how it sounded. I could imagine no other circumstances under which I would have become that comfortable with someone in such a short time, and certainly not when I was sitting in the front seat of a police vehicle.