The Bear Who Loved Me (5 page)

“Good,” approved the detective. “You're rational. There's hope for you.”

Becca wasn't so sure, but she let the comment go. Meanwhile, Mr. Max answered her question.

“Theo's father was a shifter like us. He was kind of wild—”

“Feral,” inserted Marty.

Mr. Max winced. “He fathered a few children on different women before he died.” Marty opened her mouth at that, but the man shot her a quelling look. She pressed her mouth closed and tilted her head completely to the side. It was a strange reaction that Becca didn't have the brainpower to process. “Theo was one of his children. Not every child shifts, so we stayed away. But just in case…”

“You bring them to camp,” Becca said, remembering that her sister had never had to pay full price for the weeks away. She'd said it was a scholarship for special kids. Translation: potential shifter kids. “And once here, you teach them how to navigate Gladwin State Park if it's needed.”

“Yes.”

“But why do you think Theo's shifted now?”

“Because he's been fighting at school. His temperature has been running hot, which is normal before First Change.”

“No it hasn't—”

“Remember all those fevers that got him out of his French tests?”

She swallowed. She'd suspected that he'd been faking his illness, but had stood over him and taken his temperature herself. It had never occurred to her that he was just normally hot. Or that it was part of some freaky biological shift into a bear. She took a deep breath, trying to think. This just wasn't possible, and yet…apparently it was.

“Also,” continued Mr. Max, “he told Amy that he felt like there was a creature just underneath his skin and it was making him crazy.” His expression turned sympathetic. “Sure, a lot of this could be passed off as normal adolescence, but put together, there are plenty of signs for those who know what to look for.”

She hated that Theo had confided in Amy and not her, but the girl was closer to his age, and some things just weren't expressed to a parent. That was a natural part of growing up.

“And there's one more thing,” he added. “All of Frank's children have become shifters.”

She frowned. “Just how many are there?”

“At last count, seven. Four of them have turned old enough to shift.”

Seven? Holy shit, Theo had six half brothers and sisters out there. She didn't know if the kid would be happy or freaked out by that. And wasn't that the most irrelevant thing for her to focus on?

“So now it's Theo's turn. And you think he did it and is headed up here.”

“Yes.” That was the detective answering, her tone dry. “This is a normal part of a grizzly shifter's life. That makes it a regular spring ritual, and Gladwin PD is well used to handling it. That's fine for the local kids.” She glanced at Marty. “But the minute they start traveling from outside the county, things get dicey. We've got friendly eyes all over Michigan, but that's not always enough.”

Of course not. Because if she were the Kalamazoo PD, she'd shoot a wandering bear on sight. They didn't belong in a populated area.

“Are there usual trails that they take?” she asked. “Someplace you watch?”

“Sure there are,” said Marty. “And we got people watching them.” She patted Becca's arm, and it was so comforting she wasn't even bothered by the woman's unnaturally warm touch.

Oh, hell. She finally understood now about Theo's fevers because his skin had felt just as hot as Marty's.

She swallowed and did her best to focus. “But Theo was in Kalamazoo. And you're just watching locally. Places in the park and in Gladwin.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Max as he once again stepped much too close. For all that his tone was conciliatory, his presence all but beat her into submission. “You need to trust us. We've been through this every spring since the Gladwins first settled here hundreds of years ago. People don't mess with bears, and there are natural instincts, too.”

“Our boys will be just fine,” said Marty.

Becca nodded, trying to feel reassured. Mostly she just felt unsteady. “So what's next? What do I do?”

“You? Nothing,” said the detective. “You let us do our jobs.”

“I know it's hard,” Mr. Max said soothingly.

“Hard nothing,” huffed Marty. “It's a nightmare only a mother can understand.” She looked harshly at the other two, then she turned back to Becca. “Here's what we do, honey. We cook. It's hard, cold work sitting out there watching for our boys. The kitchen's set up, and I've made stew, but it's not going to last all night. Plus coffee and cookies—”

“Beef stew?” interrupted Mr. Max. “Thank God! I'm—”

“Hungry as a bear?” quipped Becca before she could stop her mouth. Gallows humor was something she excelled at.

“Look at you!” Mr. Max said with a grin. “Making shifter jokes and everything. You're going to fit in just fine.”

Tonya rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, she's a regular comedian. I'm spelling the sheriff at the first checkpoint. You know how to reach me.” Then she spun on her heel before heading out. All crisp, clean efficiency.

“She doesn't like me much,” Becca said, once again proving that she was completely off her game. She didn't normally comment on stuff like that. Or let it bother her.

“She doesn't like anyone new,” Mr. Max drawled. “They're unknowns, and she likes to keep things safe and contained.”

Becca couldn't fault her for that. That was her usual choice as well. But there was nothing contained about bear shifters. Meanwhile, Marty headed for the door. “Come on,” she said over her shoulder. “If you want something in your belly before you go out, you gotta get it now.”

“I'm right behind you,” returned Mr. Max, though he didn't leave. Instead, he stood by Becca's side, a large, overwhelming presence that didn't understand the words “personal space.” He waited until Marty was out the door before he spoke. “You okay?”

“Nope,” she answered honestly. “But I'm dealing.”

“You're doing better than anyone else I've seen. The last two outsiders had to be sedated.”

“Great. So you make a habit of kidnapping people.”

He chuckled. “Only distraught mothers. But both their kids came through like champions. You'll see. Theo will, too.”

She took a breath, holding on to that thought with everything she had. Not the idea that he'd already abducted two other women. Just that their children were fine. “So we just wait now.”

“And watch.”

“And eat stew.”

“If we're lucky,” Mr. Max said with a grin. His expression had turned wolfish and Becca started at her own thought. Could a were-bear look like a wolf?

Becca shook off her glib thought. Mr. Max was working extra hard to be charming, even if he did stand almost possessively close, but she needed to learn more about this world before she started trusting anyone or anything. So she kept silent as they headed out the front door, down the walk to the main circle. Camp Max was built on the edge of the state park and a couple miles from Gladwin village. It sat on an oval road a quarter mile long. At the top sat Mr. Max's big home and the access road to the main highway. At the base was a cafeteria where everyone ate their meals. To the east were the usual camp fun buildings: swimming pool, basketball court, baseball field. To the west were two small dorms and the parking lot. And in the center of it all sat seven beautiful apple trees barely showing their spring foliage.

As they moved, Becca started thinking, doing what she always did when she felt unsettled. She walked herself step by step through everything that had brought her to this moment. It was too far to go all the way back to when Nancy had gotten pregnant. Instead, she stepped herself through last night's fight with Theo, through today's worry-baking, and on all the way up to the present.

“Tell me about other guy who was at my apartment.” She felt Mr. Max stiffen, and his answer came out more as a grumble than a name.

“Bryn?”

She turned to face him for the next question. She wanted to see his face when he answered. “He's really a werewolf?”

“Yeah.” He didn't evade her eyes when he spoke, but she got the sense that he didn't like talking about the man. His body seemed to bulk and his hands shifted restlessly where he'd shoved them in his pockets.

“And he was checking up on Theo?”

“No, he was just in the neighborhood.”

She looked at him steadily, trying to notice every detail of his face and body. Something about his ears fascinated her. His hair was short enough to show her the curve of each lobe where they tucked tight to his head. But as she watched, they seemed to move slightly. Maybe she was imagining things, but they seemed to perk up, and he lifted his nose higher, as if scenting the wind.

“You're not afraid anymore,” he said, satisfaction in his tone.

True, but how did he know that? “I'm grappling with reality. There's no room for fear.”

His lips curved, as if he were pleased. “Nothing is going to hurt you here.”

She was more worried about Theo than herself, but that was good to know. Meanwhile, she didn't like that he'd distracted her from her earlier question. “Why was Bryn in my neighborhood?”

“You're like a dog with a bone, aren't you?”

“Is that a werewolf joke?”

He snorted. “More like an insult.” Then he touched her arm, gently but firmly pushing her to keep walking. She went along. Honestly, she had little choice given his strength. But that didn't mean she would give up her quest for information. “I don't distract easily,” she said. “So why was he in the neighborhood?”

“It has nothing to do with Theo.”

“Are you sure? Absolutely one hundred percent certain?”

He wasn't. In just a few hours, she'd made a study of his expressions. She was starting to see that when his gaze shifted away and his shoulders bulked by a tiny fraction that he was being evasive.

“Just tell me. I'll go insane worrying.”

He shook his head and gestured to the cafeteria door. “Not now.” And with that, he pulled the door open, calling out to the couple dozen of people milling around there. “Hey, everybody!” he bellowed. “Help me give a warm welcome to the newest member of our family. Becca Weitz, meet the Gladwin Shifters. Or at least half of them.”

And just like that, she joined the ranks of the crazies.

H
olding maneuver: successful. At least for the moment.

Carl watched Becca swallow and force a smile. Then she stepped forward to greet the core of the Gladwin shifters like a queen, no trace of fear anywhere. Good for her. Especially since the room was the size of an average high school gymnasium and every person in there turned to look at her. The man in him admired the way she faced them all without appearing to break a sweat. His bear was so pleased, he puffed up as large as he could and silently proclaimed ownership of the woman. Shifters weren't psychic, so it was all in body language. The way he stood beside her and met every man's gaze. And he held that position until they all deferred to him by a subtle sideways tilt of the head or downcast gaze.

Very Neanderthal of him, but some things couldn't be stopped. It was all about allowing his grizzly latitude without letting it take control. And right now, his grizzly had decided on owning Becca, so Carl allowed it the belief while his mind went about trying to
not
think about her. After all, he had a shifter clan to run.

So he pushed Becca toward Marty and the kitchen, then went for some food. He never made it. Instead, what felt like every man, woman, and child came to talk to him. He listened to their concerns, and did his best to not be aware of Becca. He laughed as people reminisced about other springs, he diminished Nick Merkel's poison by calling it the ranting of an old man, and he pretended not to notice when three different men in the food line flirted with Becca. And if he was excruciatingly aware of every person's reaction to her—mostly good, thank God—it was merely because his grizzly was uncomfortably obsessed with the woman.

And so it went for two long hours. The whole thing irritated his grizzly to no end. It was a creature of simple action, but his mind knew that sometimes delaying tactics were the only way to go. So he'd destroyed Nick's field rather than challenge—and kill—a man nearly twice his age. He'd made Tonya his beta and hoped another more palatable Maxima would appear. Then he'd shoved Becca—the only woman to attract his brain and his bear—into a room full of shifters rather than tell her news that would likely sour her on his kind forever. He wanted her to feel accepted in a new possible home here for her and Theo. The last thing he wanted to reveal was that the shifter community was a delicate balance of constantly shifting loyalties between extremely dangerous people. His closest friend today could be the man he had to kill tomorrow.

And speaking of best friends who might have gone bad, Carl finally snagged a bowl of stew while he scanned the crowd for Mark. The guy might be slowly going feral, but no way would he miss a spring hunt for the new shifters. First off, he excelled at smelling out the young. Second, he was obsessively protective of all kids. Probably had to do with growing up knowing he wouldn't live to see his thirtieth birthday. Mark had known since one fateful night when he was sixteen that he had too much shifter DNA. That meant he was slowly going feral. Eventually the grizzly would take over and make the man dangerously crazy. Given how much Carl struggled to control his own grizzly, he couldn't even fathom how Mark fought day after day to stay sane. But Carl was working night and day to solve that problem, too. So when he didn't see his best friend, Carl caught Alan's eye and gestured him over.

“You seen Mark?” he asked when Alan joined him on the bench.

“He went in search as soon as we heard.” His brother's voice was respectful, but his body language was tight and angry. Not surprising since he was probably still stinging from losing his position as beta, but Carl couldn't let hurt feelings get in the way of business.

“That was hours ago,” Carl said, his grizzly making his voice snap. Alan deserved some time to nurse his wounds, but the alpha in Carl would not let even subliminal dissent pass. “He shouldn't be alone. It'll encourage him to the grizzly too much.”

Alan's eyes narrowed at Carl's tone. “Sometimes people just need space.”

“Mark isn't just some person,” he retorted. The longer Mark wandered around using his bear senses, the more likely the beast would take over and he'd go feral. And once that happened, there was no hope for him. Carl would have to kill him for everyone's safety. And that, of course, was Carl's most critical delaying tactic. His every spare moment was devoted to finding a way to keep the wilder members of the community from giving in to the beast inside. Because when a shifter went feral, people died.

Meanwhile, Alan looked up, his expression shifting into wry amusement. “She looks like a woman on a mission.”

Carl didn't need to look to know he was talking about Becca. He'd been aware of exactly where she was all evening. Worse, she'd tried to get his attention at least six times, but he'd managed to escape before she forced a discussion she wasn't ready for. He didn't think she'd let him get away with it again. Which meant it was time to bring out the big guns.

He pushed up from his seat, pitching his voice for her to hear. “Hey, would you like to meet Theo's grandfather?”

His brother snorted. “Subtle…not.”

“Whatever works,” he said with a hard glare. There was a message in that for his brother. It said quite clearly that Carl would do whatever it took to maintain the safety of the clan. Even if it meant unfairly demoting his brother. Or refusing to talk to a determined Becca.

He saw the message land as his brother flushed red, his head tilted, and his body shifted into a submissive pose. Carl the man wanted to follow up with a brotherly comment. Something to soothe the sting, but he didn't have time. Becca had arrived, her body tense, her eyes startled by his comment.

“Theo's grandfather?” she said, her eyes panicked as she scanned the crowd.

“This way,” he said as he grabbed hold of her elbow and pulled her intimately close. That was his bear again, disrupting Carl's calm by breathing her scent deep into his lungs while her body heated every part of him.

Hell, this was torture. He had to get away from her quickly, before he lost control. So he was a little too rushed as he steered her to a corner, where Isaac was telling stories to a circle of shifter kids. “I'm sure he'd love to get to know you better right after story time. Besides,” he said when she turned back to him, “you can hear
our
version of the fairy tales.”

“I'd rather talk to you—” she began, but he cut her off.

“It's important for you to hear our stories told our way.” Little Red Riding Hood's grandmother was a feral werewolf, as was the huffing and puffing wolf from “The Three Little Pigs.” Grendel from
Beowulf
was a bear shifter, though obviously that wasn't a happy tale. More of an instructional lesson about not revealing yourself to ordinary people who then declared you a monster and decided to kill you. “And, besides, I've got to talk to Alan.” He dropped her off at the edge of the group, then ducked away.

He was being a rampant coward, but he needed to gain some space from the woman. She stirred up things in him best ignored during the current crisis. Hot, erotic things that had no place in the clan while children were wandering lost in the wild. So he took the excuse and was grateful that those three tales bought him another hour to interact quietly with his clan. Plus, Marty had added a great deal of brandy to dinner, so he got a little mellower after his third bowl of stew.

And right when Isaac was deep into the “Three Billy Goats Gruff”—ram shifters vs. bear shifters—Carl slipped outside. It was time for his shift at the southern border of the park, and he was looking forward to some quiet time under the stars to think. It took him ten minutes to gather the supplies he needed, and then he climbed into his truck. He hadn't even touched the ignition when she hopped into the cab.

He didn't look at her—too distracting. Besides, he could smell her determination filling the cab. Right along with his sexual pheromones. Lord, he hated it when he smelled like a randy teenager, but apparently she ramped up his lust without even doing more than pointing that stubborn chin at him.

“Becca, you can't come,” he said, already knowing it was futile to argue.

“You promised me answers.”

“It's going to be a long, cold night of waiting. We can talk in the morning.”

“When another dozen people fight for your time? I know you were fobbing me off tonight, but you were also cornered by every adult there at one point or another. You're their leader, aren't you?”

He nodded. “Every shifter group has an alpha. For us, we call that man Maximus.”

“Mr. Max.”

“The kids named me that and it kind of stuck. My father was Maxim. My uncle was Maximus Prime.”

She tilted her head at him. “How very Roman of him.”

“He enjoyed power.” And that was the understatement of the century.

She must have keyed in to his tone because she twisted to look at him. “There's a story there.”

Dozens, more like. All of them brutal and bloody. His uncle was a perfect example of what happens when the grizzly rules and the man obeys.

“Fine,” she huffed. “Don't talk. But I'm going to pester you all night long, Mr. Max. So either get used to getting harassed or start talking.”

“Please call me Carl. The Gladwin Maximus won't give you anything. He can't. It's too big a risk for someone who hasn't fully adopted our ways. But Carl might be convinced to share more.” And why the hell had he just told her that? He needed more formality between them, not less.

“Does it make it easier to split yourself into two people, Carl?”

Two? He was at least three—his human self, the Maximus, and his bear—all trying to rip each other apart. And every time he thought he'd negotiated a peace with himself, something happened to upset the balance. Or someone.

He looked at her in the dark cab, using his bear's night vision to trace the contours of her face. She had beautiful eyes, but that's not what drew him. It was something about the curve to her nose. A little ski slope that ended in a pert tip that lifted into the air when she was feeling aggressive. His bear loved that. The rest of him adored the smooth skin that he knew was softer than down. He'd caressed her cheek often enough when she was unconscious. He hadn't been able to stop himself.

And then there were her lips. Plump and red from when she chewed on them because of nerves. Her mouth was always moving, not talking, necessarily, just expressing her emotions, even when she pressed her lips firmly together and refused to speak. The man in him watched that mouth obsessively and had fantasies about what she could do with it. There was the window to her soul, and that was what he wanted to touch, taste, and possess.

He was out of control.

“You can't come, Becca. It'll be hours just sitting.” They'd be right next to each other within touching distance. He'd be able to smell her every shifting mood while he created elaborate fantasies around her. Hell, he was already hard. “We'll talk tomorrow. I promise.”

“Tomorrow happens in about ten minutes,” she said firmly. Then she finished him off: she touched his hand in the barest of tentative caresses. She didn't know how rare it was for someone to touch him softly. Bears, as a rule, were forceful creatures, shifters even more so. She touched the back of his hand as if she were nervous but unable to stop herself. The lightest of touches that felt like a whisper against his skin and sent reverberation everywhere through his body. “Please, Carl. I'm crawling out of my skin with worry. And being here with everyone makes it worse.”

He sighed. He knew that feeling. Understood it to the depths of his bones. “It's going to be really cold,” he warned.

“You've got my blanket back there. I'll use that.”

It was what he'd planned to use. He'd wrapped her in it when they'd taken her from her apartment. It smelled like her and Theo, and he'd wanted to bury himself in it all night long. Now he'd sit beside her and smell so much more.

“This is not a good idea,” he growled.

“I'll risk it,” she shot back, proving she knew absolutely nothing about what she was doing.

But rather than point out the obvious, he turned the ignition and headed out to the watch point.

He worried that she'd start to push her advantage the moment he put the truck in drive. That's what Tonya would have done. It was an animal thing. The minute predators sensed softness, they went in for the kill. Humans knew to take their time. To ease in patiently by degrees until everything was exposed.

Becca was all human and a woman as well. She touched him again—this time in gratitude—then settled back into silence to let him get comfortable with her presence. Both actions were guaranteed to intrigue him. His bear liked that she hadn't attacked, feeling intrigued by the atypical reaction. And the man in him…well, he had a boner the size of Detroit. He was pulsing with hunger after those two brief touches.

It took fifteen minutes to get to the lonely watch point: a huge weeping willow draped at the edge of a stream. A platform had been built around the lowest branches. The perch was high enough to see the distance, but low enough for a bear to jump down without problem, and the other trees had been cut back to give a good 360-degree view. And, best of all, a cell tower stood near enough to keep all five bars of his phone happy.

He parked the truck at the side of the road, then grabbed the picnic basket Marty had packed for him. Becca took hold of the blanket and thermos of coffee, then hopped out, peering all around her. He waited, wondering if she could see the perch with her human senses. She did, proving that she had spent at least some time out in the wild.

“You ever hunt as a kid?”

“Deer with my dad. It was about the only time I spent with him growing up. He went with his brother and let me tag along if I promised not to tell Mom what they did.”