Bear With Me (BBW Paranormal Shifter Romance) (2 page)

Chapter2

The early morning sun had was bathing the tent in a balmy orange glow, fending off the chill, as my eyes opened. I yawned and twisted around, not quite orientated yet. My sleeping bag was soft and warm and as comfortable as any real bed I had slept in, and I had absolutely no desire to leave it. Blinking several times to bring my eyes into some sort of focus that could see further than hazy orange shapes, I glanced over at Mom’s side. Or, at least, the space that was
supposed
to be Mom’s side. It looked as though it had not been touched; her own sleeping bag was still tightly rolled up in its little canvas bag by the zipper door, and there was no imprint in the ground to suggest that anyone had been there at all. I know my mother was quiet, but she could hardly be called waif-like – she would most certainly have left a fairly deep mark behind her if she had been there at all.

Images of fanged, man-eating bears flashed through my mind and I shuddered. It was ridiculous, of course it was, to even so much as entertain the possibility. This was not a Little Red Riding Hood fairy tale with wolves in human clothing. This was real life where the worst thing that could happen was wondering off and getting lost. The car was a way away after all – it was entirely feasible that she’d walked off in the wrong direction and misplaced herself. Without her meds, she could go pretty cuckoo. I’d seen her ‘that way’ before, where she’d just sort of forget herself and start walking around in a day-dream dream, believing she was a little girl again or a character in one her books. She read a lot, did Mom. Maybe fantasy was much more palatable than real-life. Anyway, it was easy to imagine her wondering off into the forest and getting caught up in her own head without her meds to keep her straight, thinking she was in a fairy-story.

I groaned out loud, forcing myself into a sensible state of consciousness and readying myself to deal with yet
another
of my mother’s ‘episodes’. Being an only child to a single mother really truly
sucks
the ninety-nine percent of the time.

I pulled on a sweater over the top of my pyjamas – not quite willing to give up the cosy warmth that I had accumulated during the night – and tugged on my boots, adding a hat and gloves for good measure. God only knew how long I would be out searching for her!

The ground was sparkling with frozen dew and my breath frosted before my face as I crawled out the tent on my hands and knees, the freezing damp was soaking through my jeans within seconds. I blew on my hands, stomped my feet and braced myself to face the adventure awaiting me, then set off at a brisk, marching pace – the crisp grass crunching satisfyingly beneath the soles of my boots.

My first port of call was my car to which I sprinted – convincing myself along the way that she absolutely would most definitely be sleeping soundly on the grass besides it. She was not, and this discovery was like a punch to the gut. I had been so sure. I had managed to convince myself so well… My heart racing and my stomach twisting in fear, I fumbled for my keys and somehow managed to gather my wits together just enough to get the trunk open. It rose with a painful leisureliness, so much so that I wrenched it open with a snarl. I did not have time for this!
The trunk was a mess. We had not bothered to unpack completely last night, only troubling with the essentials, and as such it was almost impossible to make a decent judgement as to what was still there and what was missing. I dealt with this problem by practically digging my way through the junk, throwing out everything onto the grass behind me until I finally struck gold; Mom’s purse. My heart gave a sickening lurch as I reached out to take it. I pulled open the zipper with trembling fingers and pulled out the old polythene sandwich bag Mom had kept her meds in ever since she had first been given them. Inside, there was a new packet – unopened and untouched. She had not even made it this far. She never even got her meds.
I didn’t hesitate. Pocketing the pills and stuffing the bag into my pockets, I slammed down the lid of the boot, wheeled around and raced towards the mouth of the forest, praying that if I looked long enough and hard enough I would come to her soon.
 

“Mom?” I called out to her every few minutes, half-heartedly at first, then louder, “Mom!” and more urgent. “
Mom!
” I was freezing, I was exhausted, and I was pretty damn certain that I had passed that tree at least a dozen times. I had no idea where
I
was, let alone where she was. Hope and stamina was fading rapidly with every leaden footstep. But as they decreased, so did the panic in my gut intensify. I
had
to find her, there was absolutely no question of that, but I was fast beginning to doubt myself. But there was no question – I had no choice. I was actually getting worried now.

Forcing this fact into the forefront of my consciousness, I urged myself into a run, shouting to the tops of the tree, “
Mom! Mom!”
as though they would be able to help me. The branches around me rustled, laughing at my foolishness, mocking my slow paced jogging. The roots beneath my feet snatched at my ankles and tried to trip me; long, vine-like twigs whipped out and slashed at my cheeks, already stinging from the tears frozen on my face.

And then I heard the howl – a long, wavering sound that pierced through the forest and stopped me in my tracks, sending chills all the way up my spine until the hairs on the back of my neck stood up on end. More howls joined in, softer but no less chilling, until it was practically a symphony. Each voice perfectly finely tuned to match with the one beside it, as though there was a canine acapella group just a short distance away.

I broke into a sprint, defying every instinct in my body to turn and run as far away from the sound as possible. I knew there was danger ahead –
mortal
danger, most likely. I knew that I had no hope in hell if I tried to fight off whatever creature was capable of making that sound. But I knew also – and god only knows
how
I knew – that my mom was there, and that I was the only person in the world who could help her.

I ran for what felt like hours, covering miles and miles of ground, until the autumn sun was high in the sky and I felt like I was going to be sick from worry and exhaustion. Panting and desperately fighting to catch my breath, I collapsed to the damp, muddy ground and looked helplessly around me. I was in a clearing, the one I had been positive the howling had come from, with threadbare trees circling around me. There was not a single living thing in sight. Not a wolf, not a bird, not my mother… I was entirely alone.

I added my own howl up as an offering to whatever there was out there, letting loose the long scream of frustration which rubbed my throat raw until there was no energy left inside of me to scream anymore. Then I simply sat, with my knees drawn up under my chin, and sobbed. I was too tired and too cold to even think. Nothing made sense and
nothing
was okay. This was supposed to have been the weekend that would fix everything and bring us back together. And now there was no hope. Everything was fucked, and any chance of fixing it was diminishing faster and faster until the only thought I could properly concentrate on was the image of my mother’s dead body lost somewhere in the forest, half-eaten by foxes.

I didn’t move again until the sun had shifted another forty-five degrees, unwilling to face the reality of my situation. Finally, my face numb from the cold and my limbs aching with cramps, I raised my head blearily and tried to force my brain to function. One thing was for certain – I could not do this alone. I
had
to find help, and I had to find them fast. The sun barely grazed the tops of the trees, and I did not want to be caught lost and alone once darkness fell. The wolves’ song still rang through my ears and haunted my memory, reminding me of my task and spurring me on. My legs wobbled beneath me as I struggled to my feet and lurched back into the depths of the forest. If I kept going for long enough, I was certain that I would eventually come across somebody – a park ranger, another camper – who would be able to help me.

Chapter3

If I had so much as blinked at the wrong moment, I am sure I would have missed the cabin entirely. Covered in moss and thick tree roots, it was so imbedded in the forest, it could very easily be mistaken for nothing more than a rabbits’ warren, or a fox hole. Certainly not the dwelling of a human being. But by that point, my senses had been sharpened so acutely by fear and adrenaline, even the dimmest light of a single flickering candle glowing through a murky window shone like the beacon in a lighthouse, beckoning and calling out to me through the cloying darkness of the impending evening.

I stumbled towards it, tripping over a long branch at the last moment, and falling headfirst through the make-shift door and crashing into the small hideout in a cloud of splinters and powdered dead leaves. I lay there, unmoving – being horizontal was surprisingly pleasant – and would have quite happily stayed there indefinitely, had it not been for two strong hands closing around my arms and hauling me back to my feet, the fingers digging painfully into my flesh. I scowled deeply at the stranger and tried to wriggle out of the grip, but this only served to cause the fingers to tighten even further, making me gasp out loud in pain.

“Hey!”

The man before me bared his teeth and gave me a little shake. “Hey,” he echoed, his voice gruff and hoarse as though he were not used to speaking. “Hey.”

I blinked, and he blinked back at me. Our eyes narrowed as we searched each other’s faces, trying to suss the other out. It was like communicating – or trying to communicate – with a wild animal. Like when you find yourself nose to nose with a squirrel, when neither one of you dares to move first for fear of breaking the spell. And certainly it was some degree of magic that connected us to one another in that moment. I found myself bound and held tight by the intensity of his gaze, his eyes wide and bright, and so dark they were almost black. I could feel myself falling headlong into them, sinking deeper and deeper into the bottomless pools. I failed to even noticed that he had let go of my arms, so enraptured was I.

“
Who are you?” he demanded in his rasping way, breaking the spell and bringing me out of my reverie. “What d’you want?”

“I…” I licked my lips, my heart juddering in my chest. “I’ve lost my… I’ve lost my mom.” I winced inwardly at how utterly
pathetic
that sounds. I was twenty-two, for god sake! Not five years old!

I fully expected to be laughed at loudly – that sure would have been
my
reaction if I was him – but, instead, his brow creased in immediate concern and he ushered me deeper into his ‘hut’ – although now I could see it properly, it seemed more like a cave than anything else, with its stone walls and fern-carpeted floors.

“
Tell me,” he said, sitting down amongst the rushes and ferns and bidding me do the same with a gesture of a hand. “You came for help. So tell me.” His voice was urgent, almost eager, as though he had been waiting keenly for this.

I eased myself down next to him, the lack of space making it so I could not position myself without some part of my body touching his. He didn’t seem to care, so I decided not to too. The circumstances were too dire to be prudish about such things.

And so, in the flickering light of the candle perched on a rocky outlay well out of the way of the dried leaves, with our knees touching, I carefully recalled everything that had lead up to this moment to the wild stranger I had met only moments ago. Once I started, everything seemed to just flow out of me, like poison being bled out of a wound, until there was not a single thing left to say and I felt light and dizzy with the relief of it.

He listened without moving or speaking, not even interrupting when I went off on a tangent and told him, in minute detail, how I had never known my father and how my mother had never provided me with a decent, strong role-model in my life, which was
definitely
the cause of all my crippling self-doubt. If I had been him, I would have told myself to shut up. But he didn’t. He was as patient and tentative an audience as I could have wished for, doing a far better job than any of the countless therapists that had been inflicted upon me at one time or another.

When eventually I ran out of steam, the silence rung about our ears like a bell. I waited with forced patience for his response, for his verdict, for the plan of action that would save the day. I waited and waited, the seconds stretching out into minutes, but all I received in return for my tale was a long, thoughtful silence.

“Hmm,” he said after several minutes. “Hmm…”

The nerve in my temple twitched.

“Hmm what?” I demanded, my temper flaring. “Are you going to help me? What am I going to do?
What do you think
?”

With his head cocked to one side, he contemplated me calmly, entirely nonplussed by the way I had snapped at him, then asked, “Do you know anything about wolves?”

“Wolves?” My heart lurched as I remembered the howls. “I heard some, I think, earlier. A whole lot of them. It sounded like they were…singing?” I shook my head. “I chased after them, but they were gone long before I got there.” I hesitated, chewing my lip, before continuing tremulously, “Is that what you think it is? Do you think wolves went off with my mother?”

He nodded. “I can think of no other explanation,” he said as though it were the most casual thing in the world. “It is that time of year.”

“What do you mean?” Nothing about this conversation was reassuring me. “Time of year for what?”

“
Winter has nearly fallen,” the man explained slowly, his tone bordering on patronizing. “Soon it will be time to sleep ‘til spring. All creatures need to eat, even in winter. Stores must be made now. Every forester knows not to make themselves conspicuous at this time. You were a fool to bring your mother here at this time.”

I flinched, the callousness of his words was like a slap to the face. “You’re saying this is
my
fault?” I spluttered, open-mouthed with utter disbelief. “Fuck you!
Fuck you!
Don’t help then! I’ll do it by myself. I’ll find her, and if she’s already dead, I’ll kill those bastard wolves too!” I hauled myself up, shaking with anger, and made to storm out. “Thanks a lot for your help.”

A bark of laughter emitted from his mouth, and then another and another until the man was doubled over in uncontrollable amusement. My cheeks blazed with humiliation. “
What
?”

Still chuckling, he stood up. “So, you’re well equipped to just walk into a werewolf pack, are you?” he asked, the corners of his eyes crinkling in mirth. “You think you’re even strong enough to be able to defend yourself against them, let alone kill them?” Shaking his head, his folded his great arms around his broad chest, his expression suddenly serious. “Go home, girl,” he told me. “Go home and mourn your mother in safety. There is nothing that can be done for her now.”

My head was swimming with all his words, not one of them quite making sense. “You’re insane,” I whispered, as much to myself as to him, backing out towards the broken door. A Wildman talking about werewolves… I had been crazy to think I could look to him for help. For all I knew,
he
had taken Mom himself. It would not surprise me.

In the moment before I turned and ran, he flashed me the widest grin, bearing the largest, sharpest teeth that I had ever seen on another human-being. I knew that he would have no difficulty tearing a raw carcass to pieces. Bile rising dangerously in my throat, I clambered over the broken wood of the door and pelted as fast as I could in the opposite direction.

I was trapped in a nightmare, I was certain of it. The sky was starless; the trees were no more than looming shapes that clawed at me from behind shadows; I was going nowhere. I was sure that it was only a matter of time before I awoke with a jolt, sweat-soaked and trembling, but safe in my own bed – the trip and everything that had happened since we had arrived, no more than a fading dream.

But that was okay. That meant that, no matter what happened, I was safe. In dreams, nothing can touch you no matter how real they are or how frightening they can become. They are finite. They
will
end. They will… They will…

A low growl rose up out of the thick darkness and stopped me sharply, rooting my feet to the frozen ground.

“It’s just a dream,” I murmured out loud, the words ghosting in the frost before me. “It’s not real. It’s just a dream. Just a-” I screamed as the howl pierced the silence, the haunting sharpness of it freezing me from the inside out and filling me with utter terror. It was the sound I had been chasing only hours before, now closer, now aimed at me – a warning and a promise of danger. The wolves’ song.

I should have listened to the Wildman. I should have run to safety. I was going to die in the salivating jaws of a hundred wolves. Just like my mother. I was going to end up just like her.

I clenched my teeth, every muscle in my body going rigid in terrified anticipation, as the soft crunching of paws on dead leaves reached my ears. Even though I had still yet to see even one, I could hear them stalking around me on both sides until I was entirely surrounded by a ring of soft, sinister growling. There was nowhere to run – not that I had the physical capability to out run even one hungry wolf, let alone a whole pack. I was done for. Utterly and completely
fucked
.

I closed my eyes tight shut just as the first pair of bright, amber eyes set deep in a long-snouted shaggy grey face. If this was to be the end, I didn’t want to see it.

The wolves started to snap and snarl, and I could feel almost feel the sharpness of their fangs through the timbre of the sound. One barked so close to my ear that I could feel the heat of its breath on my neck, the stench of blood so pungent in my nostrils I almost gagged.

But I forced myself to remain still and calm. Perfectly composed.

I waited for the claws that I knew were coming to pin me down. I waited for the teeth I knew were coming to rip into my throat. I waited for the death I knew was coming to release me from this blanket of fear I had become entrapped in.

And then there was silence – a sudden, sharp silence that forced my eyelids to open just the tiniest of cracks. I knew nothing of wolves, or of their habits, but this seemed peculiar. I found myself looking at a shining wet nose on the end of a long snout. A neat set of canines made my stomach give an uncomfortable jolt, but the wolf’s attention was not on me, just inches away, but on something behind my back. Unwilling to move just in case I caught its interest again, I strained my eyes to look around at the pack encircling me. None of them were looking at me. Each face was pointed towards something seemingly just above my shoulder, and each expression – half-hidden behind varying shades of shaggy grey fur – was alert with surprise. Whatever it was behind me, and I dreaded to consider the possibilities, had managed to alarm the wolves. And whatever it was that had the power to alarm a pack of bloodthirsty carnivores was certain to be no friend of mine.

The wolf seemed to be considering the intruder careful. Its eyes were flicking back and forth, and I could almost see it thinking. Then its lips pulled back in a snarl – not the triumphant snarl of a beast about to take down its prey as I had heard before, but a fearsome snarl of warning and a signal to its pack that the danger must be taken down.
Immediately.
Its packmates took up the call at once, and soon the air around me was throbbing with the wolves’ single-voiced growl.

Behind me, the roar of a different creature responded, declaring war with the utmost certainty. There would be no truce, no mercy. There was to be a fight and that fight was to be
now
.

I ducked with a yelp as the wolf bent down and then sprung up into the air, sailing smoothly over my head and throwing itself bodily at the intruder, its claws extended and its jaws wide open ready for battle.

Only then, safely forgotten, did I allow myself to move. I twisted around and found myself face to face with a bear. It had drawn itself up to its full height, which must have been at
least
ten feet. I had to crane my neck upwards to so much as glimpse its face, which seemed tiny and isolated in the middle of a huge expanse of deep dark fur. It seemed to almost embrace the wolf as the creature hurled itself straight at the bear’s throat, not wasting a moment and going straight for the killing strike.

The wolf barely grazed the thick brown fur before the bear raised its paw and dealt the smaller animal a brutal blow to the head, sending it flying back to ground with a crash and a whimper. This sent its pack mates into a snapping, snarling frenzy, although it seemed that they were under some sort of instruction not to move. The air around us was a quiver of pent up energy as the leader – I assumed the fallen wolf was the leader as it was far bigger than any of the others – struggled to right itself, its tongue falling from its mouth as it panted heavily, struggling for breath from the pain of the impact of landing on its back.

We all watched – the other wolves, the bear and I – and waited for the wolf-leader to make its next move. The bear was obviously refusing to strike first, the smaller wolves had been forbidden to join in the fray… There was some sort of tacit agreement between the two groups, some sort of truce that could not be broken. But the leader-wolf was bristling with fury, its hackles raised, and would not be contained by the same rules that the others were deferring to. Shivering with anger and pain, it slunk in a wide circle around the bear, its eyes – bright with malice – never leaving wavering from its enemy. The bear watched it with equal intensity, its own lips drawn back in a silent, warning snarl.