Brighton shook his head, then wrote something on the next line of the ruled paper. For emphasis, he jammed his finger at what he wrote. You can’t take medicine. Of course you got sicker. Didn’t anyone explain this to you?
She had the uncomfortable feeling that whatever he was talking about was circling slowly back to who bit her, so she shoveled a forkful of buttery, cubed potatoes into her maw to avoid any more conversation, and oh good Lord! That was the best thing that had ever touched her tongue.
“Aw, hell, Brighton. You should be on one of those chef shows on television.” She tasted the mixed vegetables, which seemed to have been sautéed in some kind of sauce made of unicorn smiles and baby giggles. The steak was cooked at a perfect medium, and when she bit into the warm roll, she was second guessing her assumption that she hadn’t died and gone straight up into the clouds.
When she looked up to compliment him again, his lips were quirked in a smile. Brighton was quite fetching when he looked happy. The scowl had gone, and in its place, his deep green eyes danced as he watched her eat. His nose was straight, eyebrows dark and animated. His teeth were straight and white.
“I bet you look all right under that beard,” she said before she thought about her words.
The smile dropped from his lips, and he canted his head, as if he couldn’t figure her out.
“I mean, that is to say, you probably look like one of those magazine ads. You know, the ones with the underwear models with the pretty faces. Not that you’re pretty. You’re a burly, manly man if ever I’ve seen one. Beefy, too. And not that I’m imagining you in your underwear…” Her gaze dropped to the taut muscles in his neck and the perfect line between his pecs that she could see between the two undone buttons on the green thermal shirt he’d changed into. She cleared her throat and forced her attention back to her food. “I’ll shut up now.” That lasted about a second before she felt compelled to explain. “Sometimes I ramble when I’m talking to people who don’t really want to talk back to me. Like my momma. Not that you don’t want to talk. I’m sure you’d want to if you could.” She scrunched her nose apologetically. “Balls. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t talk about you not being able to talk. Is it a choice? Are you doing it for artistic reasons? Or were you born this way with no voice? I read about religious members who choose not to talk for a year, sometimes more. You aren’t one of those fellows, are you?”
Brighton blinked once, slowly, and when he opened his eyes again, they looked dead and cold. She could see him shutting down on her, slamming down walls to protect whatever secrets he obviously didn’t feel like sharing with a stranger.
“Right. I probably shouldn’t have asked you that either. It’s none of my business.”
Uncomfortable, she slowly sawed her steak into bite-size pieces as he leaned back in his creaking chair to study her. Careful not to bring up anything else that would earn her an angry look from Brighton, she finished her meal in silence.
You had a job? he wrote as she chewed on her last bite of vegetables.
“Yeah.” Shyness crept over her, and she lowered her gaze so she could hide the heat that was creeping into her cheekbones. “I’ve seen you in Boomer’s Grill before. You probably didn’t notice me, though. I waited on you a couple of times. You and a couple of big gruff-looking fellows.”
A slight frown took Brighton’s face as he leaned back in his chair again and dragged his gaze over every inch of her face. His eyes lit up, and he leaned forward and scribbled across the last line of the paper. Your nametag said Ever. I remember you now.
“You probably don’t remember me by my face. It’s okay. I’m plain Jane boring vanilla. That’s what Momma always says. She says I need to grow some brains because no one’s gonna kiss me on looks alone. You probably remember the strange name on my tag. Momma thought I was gonna keep her and Daddy together forever. So…” She shrugged. “Everly, and my friends call me Ever for short. Well, not really friends so much as co-workers. I’m kind of shy around new people, and old people, and then when I get nervous I just talk and talk about nothing at all, and it puts people off.” She cleared her throat and gave him an apologetic smile. “So, you see, you not talking doesn’t make any difference right now because apparently I’m going to talk enough for the both of us. I don’t think I’ve strung so many words together since…” Since him. Everly gritted her teeth and wished she was a mute, too, right now, just to save herself the embarrassment of her flapping tongue that wouldn’t shut the hell up.
The job? he wrote.
“Oh, yeah. I had about ten too many seizures at work, and I was scaring the customers away and spilling drinks all over everyone. I don’t know what set me off. I’ve been having them for six months now, but before that, I never had a one in my life. Can I tell you something?”
He looked amused and nodded.
“It’s really easy to talk to you.”
Because I can’t talk back?
“I guess so. But also, I don’t feel as awful around you. I feel…calmer.”
You’re having those seizures because you aren’t letting your bear out enough.
Everly read the words on the new piece of notepad paper three times, but they still didn’t make a lick of sense. “I don’t understand. Is bear short for some sort of disease?”
He drew a rough outline of a snarling bear with big teeth and claws and arched his eyebrows. Then he wrote, I’m a grizzly, too. No use hiding what you are from me.
“Like a grizzly bear?” A chill rippled across her forearms, and she leaned back in her chair, eyeing the distance to the door.
Brighton might be a nice person, willing to help her through a couple of seizures and feed her after, but he was also showing signs that he was about three bubbles shy of a soda. She’d already dealt with crazy before, and she sure wasn’t doing a repeat of that.
Gig’s up, he scribbled. It’s in the eyes. You can’t hide what you are in the last seconds of your seizures. You need to let your animal out, or she’s going to kill you.
Kill her? Oh no, no, no. Everly was not stuck in the woods with a stranger in the middle of God knows where, and now he was turning out to be a serial killer? Fear clogged her throat, making it hard to draw a breath. “Thank you for the dinner, but I need to be going.”
She stood and walked backward to the door, then snatched her purse that was sitting in an old wooden rocking chair beside it and held it against her chest like a shield. “It was nice to meet you.” Nice and terrifying.
Brighton sat where he was, frozen as he watched her leave through narrowed eyes. With his dark lashes lowered like that, his eyes sure did look different. Feral.
Everly clutched her purse tighter and backed out the doorway, then stumbled on the trio of stairs on the other side of the porch. Catching herself on the railing, she gasped as she realized she didn’t have a car or any other means of escape. And even if Brighton had left the keys in his truck, he hadn’t parked it in the front yard, and she had no idea where it was. Heart pounding as she searched the empty field adjacent to the cabin for anything that would aid her, she jogged toward the dirt road that led to the woods beyond. If she could just find a main road and flag down a car, she’d be set.
A whimper wrenched from her throat as she began to sprint, her thick-soled boots clunking heavily against the gravel with each hurried step. Brighton didn’t seem to be chasing her, but that didn’t dissuade her rampant need to get out of here as soon as possible. She ran until her legs burned and her feet dragged the ground. She ran until she couldn’t see his house down the long road when she looked back over her shoulder. Until all she could hear were the crickets and the frogs and the wind through the branches above her.
The road curved, and when she looked back one last time, all she could see was wilderness. She turned and smashed into a wall of muscle. When Brighton gripped her arms, she screamed in terror. The man hunched in on himself, as if she’d decimated his eardrums, and damn it all, her ears were ringing, too, but it gave he
r a split second when his grip loosened to make a run for it.
Brighton grabbed her elbow and yanked her to face him, then reached over his head and pulled off his shirt.
“What are you doing?” she cried, flashbacks and horrid, painful memories flooding her. She couldn’t survive this. Not again.
The full moonlight bathed his face in shades of blue as he slowly mouthed, I’ll pull her from you.
“You’re insane!” she said, jerking hard to escape his grasp.
His fingers were like an iron vice on her arm.
“You’re hurting me.”
Brighton released her immediately, eyes wide. I’ll pull her from you, and you’ll feel better.
“Stay away from me,” she said as she backed away from him.
He followed slowly, kicking out of his boots.
“I said stay back!”
He unbuttoned his pants and pushed them past his hipbones, past more stripes of scars. “Please,” she pleaded in a whisper. “Don’t do this.”
I won’t hurt you.
A smattering of pops echoed through the woods, like the snapping of bones, and Brighton grew larger. And as a scream lodged in her throat, an enormous beast burst from him.
Shocked into stillness by consuming fear, she gasped to release her terrified shriek, but couldn’t find the voice to do so. Who would hear her, anyway? This couldn’t be happening. Black, curved, dagger-like claws ripped from his fingers, and dark fur exploded from his body, covering him completely. His face morphed into something terrifying and wild as he stood to his full, towering height. Petrified, she stooped and covered her ears as moisture burned her eyes.
No, no, no. This wasn’t possible. Brighton wasn’t a bear. That wasn’t even in the realm of possibilities. Bear men didn’t exist!
As he fell forward on all fours, the earth shook with the force. Made of weapons for ripping and maiming, his paws were bigger than her head. He’d brought her all the way up here to kill and eat her.
She wasn’t Brighton’s friend.
She was his prey.
Horror locked her legs, and she fell backward into the dirt. She landed hard on her elbows, scraping one against a jagged stone. Pain zinged up her arm, and the scent of iron filled the air. She was sobbing now as tears streamed down her face. Brighton stood over her, one paw on either side of her shoulders, then he buried his nose against her neck.
Something was opening inside of her, hurting her, shredding her. She bowed against the pain, but it didn’t help. The hurt grew from her middle, increasing in intensity until she clenched her hands and cried out. Brighton pushed a giant paw under her, scratching her back through the thin material of her dress. He pulled her against his chest, and she knew the end was coming.
Her throat slammed closed, and her body went rigid, and this time Brighton wasn’t going to help her through the seizure.
He was going to kill her.
Chapter Five
Brighton didn’t understand. All Everly had to do was Change—give the bear her body and she wouldn’t seize anymore. She wouldn’t feel sick or waste away. He was calling to her bear, could sense her just under Everly’s surface. Hers was a quiet bear, perhaps the most submissive he’d ever encountered, but it shouldn’t hurt her like this to Turn. It shouldn’t be this hard.
Unless she didn’t know her bear existed yet.
Shit.
Clamping his canines against the pain of another Change so quick, he squeezed his eyes closed and melted back into his human skin. She wasn’t breathing. He cupped her face and searched her wide, terror-filled, silver eyes. Her bear was right there, so why wasn’t she coming out?
“Breathe,” he whispered. Pushing air particles through his ruined throat felt like swallowing glass, but he wanted her to know he was right here with her.
Her body curled in on itself, then relaxed and went limp. She gasped for air, and he cradled her head, propped her up, and rocked her gently.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over again. He deserved the pain of the soft words he forced out.
A sob wrenched from her throat, and she curled into a fetal position. She looked pale and shaken, and when he lifted her into his arms, she lay there limp. He nuzzled her forehead, unable to keep from touching her. Bear shifters needed touch and affection. Even bachelor groups hugged and clapped shoulders often. Touch was necessary to reassure himself that everything was right in his world. And right now, Everly was it. She was everything he focused on, everything he thought about. He had to fix her because no one could fix him, and it couldn’t be the same for another. He had to do something good for someone who needed it because no one could ever right the wrongs done to him.
Trembling like leaves in a stiff breeze, her hands were clenched in front of her stomach.
He wanted to kiss her knuckles and make her fear go away. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” Besides the bear someone had put in her.
Whoever had done this hadn’t even had the decency to explain what was happening to her. Women didn’t make good bears if they were too submissive. And shy, rambling Everly wasn’t a personality he would’ve ever chosen to Turn. She was at risk of her bear pushing for control and slowly taking her mind until she was nothing but a bear in a human body. The only reason that hadn’t already happened was because her bear seemed to be completely submissive. So submissive, she hadn’t even made an appearance yet. Six months of seizures, which meant Everly had been bitten a half year ago. The first Change was usually instant after the bite, and here she was, still unaware of what had been done to her after all this time.
The urge to take care of her was overpowering. He’d never felt like this before about anyone, human or shifter. He cared about the women in the Ashe Crew, Brooke, Skyler, and Danielle, and would die for them if it ever came to it, but this was different. He wanted to make Everly okay again. He wanted to know everything about her. Wanted to find what made her tick, and he wanted to be the first one to meet her bear.
And dammit, he wasn’t going to let her go crazy. He wasn’t going to just sit by while she seized until her repressed bear killed her. He’d never be okay again if that happened. Not after the trauma that had scarred him inside and out when he was sixteen at the hands of Reynolds and his team, but maybe life would be more bearable if he saved Everly. Already, he’d gone two hours without Changing, just because his need to care for Everly was greater. Everly Moore. Ever. He did remember her from Boomer’s Grill. She spoke of herself as if she was plain, but she’d been wrong. She was sick now and looked gaunt, but not even that could hide how beautiful she was. He’d watched her work at Boomer’s, talking too low to customers, who in turn asked her to speak up. She’d lowered her gaze time and time again to anyone who tried to hold eye contact with her. The Ashe Crew had been talking about new machinery for their logging business up in the mountains over lunch, but Brighton had watched Everly serve tables and wondered what kind of life had made her try to be invisible like that. He liked to be invisible sometimes, too. He hadn’t recognized her at the café because she looked so different now, but months ago, he’d asked to eat at Boomer’s Grill the next time they were in town just so he could watch her again.
The way she looked now was her bear’s fault. No, not her bear’s. The blame rested solely on the asshole who put that bear inside of her, then walked away.
He could see the house now, so he cradled her closer and picked up his pace. A tear ran down the corner of Everly’s eye, and he thumbed it away, hating himself for causing it.
“I’m not like that,” Everly murmured. She lifted her water-rimmed eyes to his. “I’m not like you. I can’t change into a bear or anything else. I’m just plain Jane. I’m just me and nothing special. Nothing scary. You have that thing tucked up inside of you, but I don’t. You were wrong.”
Brighton’s lip twitched with how much he wished it was true that she was still human. It would’ve been best for her to ne
ver have been bitten at all. For her to never have met the man who did this, and for her to continue a simpler existence. But while her body had been zapped of its energy with the seizure, the bear was still in her eyes, proof of what she was now.
Brighton climbed the porch stairs and kicked open the front door, then made his way to the bathroom with her, careful to avoid hitting her legs and head on modest-size door frames. In front of the single, large mirror over the sink, he set her on her feet. She swayed, so he steadied her, searching her eyes in the last few seconds of her naivety. After tonight, she’d be altered forever. She wouldn’t be able to see herself the same. Brighton was a legacy, born a shifter to shifter parents. This life was all he’d known. But Everly had been human, and she was learning here that monsters under the bed really did exist.
His chest ached as he turned her slowly toward the looking glass.
Her eyes locked on his in the reflection, then dropped to her own. She drew in a little inhalation of breath and covered her mouth. “Oh, my God,” she murmured, staring at herself.
“God didn’t have anything to do with what’s been done to you,” he whispered, accepting the razors slicing up his throat to force the words. He didn’t want to write notes anymore, or mouth words. For some reason he couldn’t fathom, he wanted Everly to hear the ruined rasp that was all that remained of his voice.
Her eyes lifted to his in the mirror. “Your eyes look just like mine do.” She lurched forward, as if her legs wouldn’t hold her anymore.
Brighton wrapped his arms around her collar bones and held her tight against his chest. If she didn’t have the strength to stand right now, that was okay. He could be strong enough for both of them. “I know you’re tired and weak right now, but you need to see this and accept it so you don’t convince yourself it was all a dream when you wake up and your eyes look normal again.” He swallowed hard as pain seared up the back of his throat.