by Amy Star
THE BEAR
IN ME
AMY STAR
Copyright ©2015 by Amy Star
All rights reserved.
About This Book
Curvy Emily Jones is a recent graduate who is heading to stay in the isolation of Alaska in a bid to find herself in life.
One thing she didn't expect to find was LOVE.
Handsome & rugged landowner Sam is as sexy as they come and he takes an instant liking to the shy Emily. As they grow closer everything seems to be perfect.
Little does she know, Sam has a secret.
Sam is a Bear Shifter and Emily's scent is incredibly familiar to him. He can sense that Emily is hiding something and using his were-instincts he has a pretty good idea of what her secret is and what he is going to do about it.
Emily went to Alaska to find herself, however she has actually found someone who already knows her much better then she thinks....
Table Of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
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CHAPTER ONE
Emily fumbled with the dial on the radio trying to localize an actual signal. After several seconds of intermittent static, a crackly vibrato pitched through the car’s speakers and she recognized an old Patsy Cline tune but not the words. She sighed and lowered the volume until it became pleasant background noise. She hoped the music would lighten the heaviness she felt in her stomach. She needed some way to alleviate the apprehension that kept creeping up the back of her mind.
She sat forward in the seat, pulling at the thin blue cotton T-shirt that hugged her bodice. Even though it was early June, there was a still a nip in the air and she was alarmed to see goose-bumps rising over her bare thighs, all the way to the lip of her cut-off shorts. I’ll have to cover up when I reach town, she thought suddenly, realizing that her preferred style would probably be a bit too shocking for the country folk she knew she’d be joining the ranks of soon. Her long blond ponytail caught on the fabric of the chair and she shook her head, trying to free it. In the rearview mirror a pair of green eyes caught her attention, and she stared back at her reflection, trying to force a smile. What am I doing? she repeated to herself.
She rolled up the window and propped her arm against the glass and let out a long protracted sigh. Out the window she saw a large brown painted sign with the words TANANA FOREST RESERVE etched into the wood. She struggled with one hand to unfold the map on the passenger seat next to her and tried to follow the winding lines. Almost there, she thought, with more relief than she expected. Large conifers flashed by on the road, a deep and impenetrable wall of trees on either side – after five hours of driving through their green tunnels she was starting to get dizzy. The further she drove north, the greater her misgivings became.
“You committed to this.” she said out loud, as if trying to remind herself of the choices that had brought her here.
The past year seemed like a blur. She could still recall the sunny days in California, the essays and practicums, the hustle and bustle of San Francisco. In the back of her beige Volvo, somewhere in one of the suitcases, she pictured the small piece of embossed paper that officially recognized her as a registered nurse. She’d always dreamed of becoming one, and even though it had taken a year and a half longer than she’d planned, it had all seemed worth it at the end. A thin smile spread across her lips as she thought about graduation day – the speeches and pictures, everyone so happy to have finally made it through the gauntlet.
Reality came spiraling back to her and the smile disappeared from her lips. Nurses were in high demand everywhere but she still couldn’t reconcile her decision to move to Alaska. Neither, in fact, could any of her friends.
“You’re crazy, you do know it snows there… like… a lot?”
“Have you thought this through… it’s dark there half the year.”
“Emily Jones, you’re going to get eaten by a polar bear!”
All the various warnings from friends plagued her during the entire drive north. She had played it off as being a great opportunity to see a part of the country she’d never been to before. It was also a bigger paycheck than any of the urban or local nursing jobs available. Most of her friends had accepted her choice gracefully. Emily had always been strong-willed, a risk taker among a social group whose idea of a ‘wild night’ involved driving around to clubs. When she’d made it clear that there was no way of dissuading her, they’d all accepted it.
Of course, there’s another reason I’m out here in the boonies, she admitted to herself. She had heard rumors that Alaska had communities of people, places where she could be safe among her own kind. People like her, those who tended to exist in the imaginations and mythologies of ancient peoples or fairytales. Some people called them shifters, others demons or ghosts. In all honesty, Emily had never really known what to call those like her – all she knew was the consequence of her birthright. That from time to time, the Bear would awaken from its hibernation, an instinct flaring like a match in the dark cavern of her subconscious. It was always there, that animal alacrity, pulsing in her veins. Waiting to get out.
She shrugged and turned up the music again. She couldn’t escape the foreboding sense of isolation and loneliness. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen another car in either direction for over an hour. She gulped and tried to focus on getting to Fairbanks before the sun disappeared over the horizon. Already she could make out that first hint of golden light, signaling the night.
She refolded the map with both hands, steering with her knee, and stuffed it haphazardly back into the glove compartment. Another envelope fell out. She stopped, transfixed by the manila piece of paper, and hesitated before picking it up and setting it on her lap. She bit her lip and unfolded the requisition form – ‘Emily Jones, Registered Nurse – Fairbanks, Denali Center’ and a starting date for her internship at the hospital.
As the forest pulled away slightly, she could make out the orange glow of the city, and soon she was idling down the main stretch. It looked like a sleepy town. Here and there she could see several of the residents wandering to and fro, an inn with the ‘Vacancy’ sign flickering, several bars that blared annoying pop-tunes through their open doors. She gulped again, trying to settle her nerves, and followed the hastily scrawled directions on the envelope.
At the northern end of the town, hedging the river, she found the correct address and double-checked it in the glare of her headlights before parking on the side of the road. It looked like someone’s bad idea of a neighborhood – half a dozen rustic looking cabins following the bend of the river, looking out across the rocky flats and the mountains in the distance. Just above the horizon, the sun was sinking between two peaks, and finally winked out just as she approached the series of cabins.
“
Number 2.” she voiced to herself, walking down the sidewalk.
A couple dressed in pile jackets and heavy hiking boots gave her a curious look as they passed, and Emily blushed, realizing that she was dressed only in a T-shirt, shorts, and a pair of running shoes.
“Excuse me.” Emily asked.
The woman turned and Emily could see the wide high brim of her cheeks, the auburn skin and hair that was as black as water underground. She smiled. “You look lost.” The woman laughed, unwinding her arm from her partner, a taller man with a thick coarse beard.
“Uh, yeah… I just, just got in, actually. I’m looking for the Klondike Kabins…the second cabin, I guess?” Emily explained, holding up the useless directions on the envelope.
“You’re in the right place,” the woman said, “they’re just down there. Sam runs the place, but he’s probably… out, right now. He mentioned he had another tenant coming in.”
“I’m Emily,” she said embarrassed, quickly holding out her hand.
The woman took it with both hands, a gesture that surprised Emily. “I’m Lily, this is Mark. We actually live in Number 4, so we’re technically neighbors. For a little while…we’re building a house further up the river, but we’re staying here for now.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Emily said quickly, trying to cover her accent. “Actually, I’m supposed to be working at the hospital.”
“You’ll probably have your hands full.” Lily laughed again, a full honest booming laugh that seemed strong and genuine. Emily found herself smiling in turn at the bright spirit of this woman who seemed to exude a kindness from her eyes.
“Well, I should probably get unpacked.” Emily explained, trying to excuse herself when she noticed Mark grunt and nod at her. “It was nice to meet you both.”
She found her cabin and like Lily had indicated, a note was tacked to the varnished door that read ‘Key is under the mat. Let yourself in! If you need anything, let me know – Sam’.
“Sam.” she repeated, and flipped over the filthy mat in front of the door.
Sure enough there was a silver key. The door of the cabin creaked open and she fumbled around until her fingers hit the plastic switch. It was a quaint set-up. The living room and kitchen seemed to be attached, and the smell of cedar was everywhere, pervading. She rubbed her face and walked back to the Volvo, struggling with two heavy suitcases. She was amazed she’d been able to cram her whole life into two bags – it was both invigorating and appalling. On one hand it gave her a real sense of freedom. The whole drive up from California had only cemented that feeling. But at the same time, she wondered what it meant that her whole life could be confined to these two suitcases. Is that all there is to me, she wondered.
She stood in front of the window and watched the night descend even quicker over the river. The light was different this far north. It flared brighter, but died even faster. She shivered again, and reminded herself to dress warmer tomorrow.
“I still have a week before work.” she said.
Everything was so different here. But she was glad to have met Lily, however briefly. Emily had always had trouble making friends. She knew it had a lot more to do with her condition than anything else. It had prevented her from getting close to people for fear of what would happen if they found out about the Bear -- or worse, triggering the form unexpectedly. She had heard about one case, whether it was true or not, where a Bear had transformed in his bed and accidentally mauled his wife while she slept beside him.
She shook her head violently, trying to vanquish the thought of it. It was too terrible. She herself had only changed a dozen times in her life, and always in a safe place, somewhere where she could let the Bear out for air without having to worry about hurting others. But it was still a lonely existence – she couldn’t tell any of her friends, and it had precluded any kind of relationship with the opposite sex.
“Ugh,” she said, and slapped her cheeks.
She had to focus. This place was a fresh start. Through the window she could see the darkening rim of the forest beyond, and felt a weird latent desire well up within her, a drive to vanish into the shadows and run. She knew, instinctively, it was the Bear in her. This place, Alaska, it was calling to her. Had been calling to her for a long time. There had been no way to explain this to the others back home.
She sighed and undid her ponytail, letting the long golden strands rain run down over her shoulders, down under the lip of her T-shirt over her breasts. Tomorrow, she thought. She was too exhausted to keep thinking about it now and locked the door behind her and stumbled into the bedroom. It was small, a third the size of the one she had had in her San Francisco apartment, but she was too tired to care. She collapsed face-first on the pillow and wrapped the sheets over her.
*
When Emily awoke, there was already a glimmer of sunlight coming in through the window and she quickly sat up straight and tried to take in her surroundings. It took her a moment to remember where she was, and she felt another twinge of embarrassment. As she rifled through her suitcases she quickly found some warmer clothes – a pair of long black tights, long sleeved sweaters, and a big Gore-Tex jacket.
As she stepped out of the cabin and locked it behind her she noticed that there was another log cabin, two stories tall, that was attached to another driveway leading off from the cabins and surrounded on either side by a grove of tall cedars. A big sign slightly askew had the word “Landlord” painted on it in different colors, so it looked like a kid’s nursery school or something, and she suddenly remembered the note that had been pinned to her door.
As she neared closer, she saw that the big chimney was pumping out a thin stream of dark blue smoke and absently knocked on the door a few times before she had thought of something to say. It took several moments but the door opened and a sleepy unshaven face stared back at her.
“Uh, yea?” The man said.
Emily blushed again when she saw that the man was only half-dressed. His strong naked muscular torso pushed out with each breath he took, the small curling hairs on his chest catching the morning light. He had the frame of an outdoorsman, someone who had been hardened by the wilderness and many years learning how to tame it. Emily quickly found herself comparing the overly bulbous and exaggerated physiques of the jocks and gym-goers back home to the lean and dexterous musculature of the man standing in front of her. There was something honest and seasoned about him. His arms were thick, wiry, and she could make out several parallel scars aching over one shoulder. When he caught her looking she quickly turned away, and he suddenly remembered himself and blushed in turn.
“Uh, sorry, just a sec,” He said, leaving the door open and disappearing. He returned moments later buttoning up a plaid shirt with the cuffs rolled all the way up his monstrous forearms. His eyes still had a sleepy look to them, but the beautiful blonde standing in his doorway had sobered him considerably.
“Sorry,” Emily said, trying not to grin at his bashfulness, “but I’m Number 2. I mean, Emily, I’m Emily. Jones. Emily Jones, that is.”
“Oh!” he said, his face lighting up, “I’m Sam. Just Sam is fine, we don’t hold too much on ceremony here. I hope you got unloaded alright. Sorry, I was kind of occupied last night otherwise I would have waited and helped you. You found the place alright though?”
“Yeah,” she said, turning back toward the cabin, “it’s a beautiful place. I feel a little out of sorts, admittedly. It’s much different than San Francisco.”
“That’s right, the letter mentioned you were coming from the deep south.” Sam said, and suddenly seemed more at ease as he leaned against the doorframe. “I mean pretty much anywhere south of here is deep.”
“Letter?” She asked, and then remembered that her university had arranged for her to come here. They’d prepared everything in advance: her job, her travel expenses, even her accommodation.
Sam smiled back and sipped at his cup of coffee that had been sitting on a table next to the door. His dark brown h
air was tousled to one side, a permanent fixture of bed-head that seemed to suit his happy-go-lucky demeanor. Even his eyes had a laid-back element to them, as if he had lived in a place without people long enough to be able to predict anything from them when he did meet them. It wasn’t wisdom, so much as a simple understanding. Emily suddenly felt exposed, as if the hard narrowed flint of his eyes were somehow piercing her, unpeeling her layer by layer.
“Well! I should… I should probably go, I was going to go look around town, check in at the hospital, and stuff.” She said quickly, panicked. If he looks too deeply at me I know what he’ll see, she thought.
“Wait!” Sam said, almost spilling his coffee as he held up his hand. “Listen, I’m free. I’d be happy to show you around. I mean, Fairbanks isn’t that big, but… wouldn’t hurt to have a guide, right? It’s the least I can do to welcome a new face.”
Emily bit her lip again and hesitated. Her small nose reddened as a gust of wind picked up off the river and slammed against them and she shivered. She looked again at Sam’s face and saw him smiling, the same one that Lily had worn the night before, like smiling was a genetic habit of the place.