Shifters' Storm Part 7

Chapter Seven.

The child he'd met the first time he'd ventured out of the forest had called him Ber. Although the boy's father had apologized and explained that his small son was trying to say Bear, from then on he'd introduced himself as Ber. He might not know much about adult humans, but he'd never doubted the little boy's wisdom.

Tonight, standing outside the house of the woman he'd followed out of the mountains, Ber nodded in admiration of her ability to sense his presence. Until he'd heard her start toward the window, he hadn't been sure what he was going to do, whether tonight might change everything for both of them. But it had to be done. Why not now?

The drapes pulled back. Staring at the slender, strong woman from earlier today, he tried to put himself in her place. She was looking at a six and a half foot tall man with wavy, pure black hair that came to his shoulders. Maybe she couldn't tell that his eyes were equally black or that he hadn't shaved for the better part of a week, but hopefully his sheepskin jacket and worn jeans would keep the truth of his musculature from her for a while longer.

Her hand went to her throat, and she pulled back. Instead of screaming and shutting the curtain again, however, she stared. Her startled yet steady glare sliced into him, making him wonder if he'd ever felt this vulnerable.

Him, vulnerable? Shouldn't that be her?

"Let me in," he said loud enough to be heard through the gla.s.s. The request shocked him. He hadn't intended to move so fast, hadn't planned things out well enough.

"What? Who are you?"

"They call me Ber," he told the woman who probably saw him only as a shadow. "I need to talk to you."

About what? she mouthed.

My life and your role in it. "I'm not armed." Hoping she could read his lips, he spoke distinctly. "I won't hurt you."

Her eyes widened, but she dropped her hand from her throat and opened the window a crack. "You expect me to believe that? What are you doing here?"

I don't have a choice. "Looking for you."

"You know something?"

The instant the words were out of her mouth, the woman didn't look as sure of herself as she had moments ago. There was a melancholy about her that touched a part of him he barely comprehended.

"Yes," he said, even though he didn't know what she was talking about. "Please, let me in." Maybe his request made the difference, but then he might never know why she stepped away from the window. Several seconds pa.s.sed before he heard a clicking at the door, and it opened. When he walked over to where she stood in the doorway, warm air reached out to caress him.

She smelled of soap and woman.

"Ber," she said, looking up at him. "Is that what you said your name is?" He'd told her it was what people called him. "Yes."

"I don't recognize you, and I know just about everyone who lives here."

"I'm new to the area." In ways you can't comprehend.

"Look, I'm reluctant to let you in. I think you understand why. Why don't you tell me what this is about. If you know something about my mother-"

"I do," he lied.

The sorrowful look returned, and he understood that taking advantage of her grief was the opening he needed.

"What is it?" she asked.

"The house is getting cold." Even before he'd finished, he acknowledged how much he was risking for both of them if she let him in. "I saw you at the bar earlier."

"Did you? I didn't see you."

Because he'd been outside. "Oh."

"Look," she said, "I don't want to have to pull things out of you. If you think you can get me to pay you for-"

"I don't think that."

"Why are you coming to me instead of the sheriff's deputy?"

Her left arm remained down by her side, while she occasionally rubbed her right hip. Accustomed to studying all movement, he wondered what that said about her. If only he knew more about what went on inside women's minds. "You have more at stake."

"Yes, I do. All right, come in. Wait. There's something you need to know. A lot of people are keeping an eye on me these days. If something happens to me, the investigation will start with who was at the Sawmill."

Only they couldn't, because he hadn't been among the drinkers. Also, her house was set back from the road, and except for him, no one was out tonight. No wonder she was leery about letting him in. As he closed the door behind him, the sense that he'd made the right choice grew. This woman lived alone.

46.

Not taking her gaze off him, she backed toward the couch and indicated he could take a chair at the other end of the room. She slowly sat. Her straight and alert body had him comparing her to a deer. He wanted to see her run, to watch the long slender legs propel her through the forest. In his fantasy, he'd be running behind her. Moving swift and sure, he'd overtake her. When he caught up to her, he'd bring her down, trap her under his greater weight.

No! He wasn't a beast tonight. Would never be, around her.

"I lied," he said, done with pretense. Either she'd accept him for what he was or-what?

Her nostrils flared, and she started to stand, stopped. "About what?" Surprised by the lack of panic in her voice, he continued. "I don't know anything about your mother.

That's not why I'm here."

Chocolate eyes widened. "Then you have thirty seconds to explain. Otherwise, I'll make you leave." How, he came close to asking but didn't.

"We met earlier today. In the meadow where the young elk had been killed."

"No way." She shook her head. "There wasn't-oh s.h.i.+t."

Understanding spread over her and took her from beautiful to exquisite. She might be the only woman on earth capable of fully comprehending what he'd said.

"Ber," she whispered. "Bear. That's what you are."

"Yes."

"A shape-s.h.i.+fter." Her mouth barely moved.

"Like your elk, yes."

"He isn't mine. He-you saw him change."

"Yes."

Looking resigned, she nodded. "And what took place between us." From the moment responsibility for his kind's future had fallen on his shoulders, he'd worried that no woman would be able to comprehend what he needed from her. He'd be forced to give up too many secrets in his attempts to get through to her. Even if she finally accepted the truth, she'd remain horrified. She'd reject him. Now, however, he'd found a human who understood what it meant to inhabit two bodies.

Everything had changed.

But was it enough?

"You had s.e.x."

"So?" She sounded defensive. "We're consenting adults. We-what does this have to do with you being here?"

Surprised by her reaction, he stared back at her. Instead of being shocked and angry, she'd gone straight to the heart of what tonight was about for him.

"You accept one s.h.i.+fter," he told her. "I need you to accept another-me."

47.

"Oh c.r.a.p." She raked her fingers through windblown hair. "Let me get this straight. You're not just a human being, you're also a bear. A grizzly."

"Yes."

"Yes, just like that. Look, I'm trying to wrap my mind about this. Elk s.h.i.+fters have lived in the Chinook Forest for generations. I guess there can be other kinds of s.h.i.+fters. Just because I've never seen or heard-but you're a grizzly, not a black like we have around here." Her breath whistled as she exhaled.

"It's overwhelming. More than I want to try to handle."

"It doesn't matter."

"Easy for you to say." Leaning forward, she stared at him. "You're big. The whole grizzly thing-in a weird way, that fits." She again ran her hand through her hair. "I don't want to be having this conversation.

You knocked on the wrong door. Whatever you were thinking when-my mind's already on overload from dealing with what happened to my mother. I don't need-"

"What happened to her?"

"You really don't know."

"No, I don't."

"She was murdered."

"Murdered?" Like today's elk? "What's your name?"

"My name?" A little of the color drained from her cheeks. "What are you doing here if you don't even know that? I'm nothing to you. Just get out."

The weight already pressing down on him increased. "It isn't that simple. I told you my name. What's yours?"

She looked all around the cozy room, then back at him. If only he could tap in to what she was thinking.

"Rane." She sighed. "Rane Haller. Mom named me for what was happening the day I was born and because nature means-meant a lot to her." Her gaze narrowed. "You said you watched Songan and me have s.e.x. He and I talked about Mom. Surely you heard that."

"I didn't care what you were saying."

"d.a.m.n you." She glanced at her slippered feet and then up at him. "Mom didn't like to hear me curse, but she did it herself. I've done more of that since she went missing than all the years before that." She s.h.i.+fted position so she was now angled toward him instead of straight on. Watching her move was like studying the rising sun touch dew. Like watching water run clean and wild over rocks and past moss and ferns. At the same time, his reaction to her was different from his appreciation for nature's beauty. The woman was innately, deeply s.e.xual, with a fluid way of moving her body that told him she was proud of what it was capable of. No matter what was going on in her life and world, at her core she was female. Everything else came after that.

48.

And tonight he was a man. Not a s.h.i.+fter with his kind's future at stake-a man.

He spoke through a throat that didn't want to work. "I saw you and the elk s.h.i.+fter go at each other, the way he took you. I heard you climax. Wanting the same thing became all-important to me. For a while, only that mattered."

Eyes darkening, she sprang to her feet. "I don't like the way this conversation is going. What happened between Songan and me is none of your business, and I want you gone. Now." He might have laughed if she hadn't reached behind her while she was speaking. Looking grim and determined, she produced a knife that went from broad and thick to razor sharp. The way she held it, he knew she'd done so many times. Still, even with it pointing toward his throat, he couldn't stop focusing on her slender wrist. If he wanted or if instinct got the better of him, he could easily snap the bones there.

When he looked back up at her, her expression told him she knew what he'd been thinking. "I have quick reflexes," she said. "And I know where to bury this. You'd be bleeding out before you knew what happened."

Much as he wanted to stand, he wouldn't take the chance of further alarming her. Too much was at stake. "Have you ever stabbed anyone?"

"Mom and I practiced. We got d.a.m.n good at it."

"Why?"

"Self-preservation. Better than a gun at close quarters. I'm done talking, Ber. I want you out of here." Her tone gave her away. She was still wary but no longer determined to immediately get rid of him.

He'd like to believe his hard body beneath the coat he'd kept with the rest of his clothes near town was responsible. She'd seen through the layers to a chest too broad for most s.h.i.+rts and legs meant for embracing a woman's body.

"Sit down, please," he said. "Keep the knife out. I won't move, I promise." She didn't believe him, not that he blamed her. At least she lowered the knife to her side. Watching her get to her feet had been all he needed to know she hadn't been lying about how quickly she could move. It might be interesting to pit their speed against each other, someday.

"I need to tell you some things," he said. "Things you'll understand at least in part because you know what it is to be a s.h.i.+fter."

"What if I don't want to hear this?"

Her wishes weren't important. One way or the other, he'd force her to comprehend. If necessary, he'd launch himself at her and wrestle her onto the floor. He'd force her onto her belly and yank her arms behind her. Then he'd straddle her, clamp a hand over her mouth, and speak slowly and deliberately. In time she'd stop struggling.