To Tame a Bear

by Emilia Hartley

  If he would allow it, she could help him heal whatever fracture the battle had caused. Yet, he seemed determined to do it alone, unbearably dragging out the process. Aimee could force her help upon him, but it would get them nowhere if he did not give in to it in the end. The work had to be done by both parties or else one half would just be wasting their time and energy.

  It didn’t stop Aimee from getting out of bed. Her oversized jersey tank-top hung crooked over her thin body, but she wore a bralette to keep her small breasts from falling out in the middle of the night. As she descended the stairs peering around the room below, she fought to find the front of her tank-top. She couldn’t figure out how it’d gotten so twisted in the few moments she’d lain in bed.

  “Go back to bed,” Dom’s voice said as if from nowhere.

  She blinked, taking in the room. He hunched over the kitchen counter, unmoving. Her first thought was of ghosts. He was a specter, a shadow of the man she wanted to love come to haunt her in the middle of the night. The urge to banish him came to her lips. Instead, she blew out a breath and moved to sit across from him.

  She kept her distance, though her fingers itched to reach across the counter and claim his hands. There’d been a short moment, the night of the festival, when their fingertips had brushed. She remembered it with vivid detail, from the way the lights danced overhead to the way his calloused hands felt against the soft pad of her thumb.

  It was then that she knew she wanted more. The hunger had been born and since then it had only grown sharper. She craved to know what he felt like between her legs. Some nights she imagined what he would sound like, the way he would confess his love while they echoed it with their bodies.

  “I told you to go back to bed.”

  Her fingers touched something, and she looked down to find that she’d reached for him without thinking. He didn’t move away. He didn’t run and hide from her or dissolve into a million smaller shadows. If anything, he felt real beneath her touch and it released something inside her, a deep-down fear that he was, in fact, a ghost.

  “Do you even sleep anymore?”

  Dom shrugged. “Some nights I sleep like the dead. Other nights I can’t quite grasp it.”

  “I take it that this qualifies as other nights. Maybe I shouldn’t have fed you anything spicy before bed.”

  He laughed, a snort of air through his nose, but he didn’t lift his head. When she looked down at the counter, she found a book of sudoku puzzles open and a pencil in his other hand.

  “If you like numbers and calculations, you should try your hand in baking. It’s much less art and more chemistry. A man like yourself lacks the creative touch that cooking requires.” Aimee was baiting him, teasing in a way only they would understand.

  She held her breath, waiting for him to rise to the occasion. The moment lingered. Silence made the whistle of wind through the hole in the wall louder and louder.

  “That’s rude,” he replied.

  She caught the hint of playfulness in his voice, making her soul rise with sudden hope. Her breath came short, and a smile touched her lips.

  “Just so you know,” Dom said without looking up, “I’ve tried my hand at baking and I’m even worse at it. I’m convinced it requires a spark of magic that I don’t have.”

  “What are you talking about? You are magic. The world doesn’t think anything like us exists. If we exist, then you can figure out why your bakes fail.”

  His response was a thin smile, no words leaving him. The conversation she’d sparked had ended. Aimee thought she was getting closer, but with each word she spoke, she could see him pulling back. It was as if he realized where he was and wanted to run. She knew she didn’t smell. If anything, the scent of their cooking lingered in the air and overwhelmed any scent that they might have caught.

  Unable to bear the hurt this was causing, she pushed back from the counter. She’d tried. She’d wanted to make this work, but she needed sleep. Exhaustion was dragging her down faster than Dom’s distant attitude.

  Her fingers tightened on the counter, the desire to hold on rippling through her muscles before she forced herself to let go. Dom didn’t call out while she walked away. He didn’t run to stop her as she began to climb the stairs. He remained distant and unreadable.

  Aimee paused. “Why were you in my room?”

  She needed to know if he felt the same pull toward her. If he did, then she could use the thread between them to pull him toward her. She would protect it with every ounce of her being. If he didn’t feel it…then she would cut herself free and move on. It would hurt, but she knew staying and pining for him would hurt so much worse.

  Dom looked up, his face unreadable in the darkness. She waited for him to say something, her stomach clenched, her heart paused.

  When he said nothing, she swallowed her panic and dashed upstairs.

  ***

  Dom knew he wasn’t a good person.

  A good person would have set Aimee free, but he couldn’t find it in himself to let her go. Not yet. There was a part of him that still needed her. It clung to the idea of her, the smiling image in his mind. He hadn’t seen her smile in what felt like forever. His moods had stolen the joy from her, and she had no more smiles left to give.

  He knew he needed to do something to make it up to her. It should have been her freedom. He knew she deserved it. Instead, he padded into the kitchen before the sun could rise. He had the bright idea to make her breakfast in bed.

  There was a pie dough on the counter, waiting to be rolled out and laid over the small pie-tins he’d bought in town. In a bowl, he whisked eggs until the yolk broke and the contents became butter-yellow. His body protested each circular motion of his wrist, but he refused to stop.

  The beast growled in his mind. It hated the mundane actions. There was no point in cooking when the beast could go into the woods and catch its breakfast. It tried to convince Dom to do exactly that for Aimee. The beast whispered that she would love it, that she would see their strength.

  He slammed his fist on the counter and silenced the creature living in his head. The otter shifter wouldn’t like it if they went out and caught a fish and dropped it on her. No woman in her right mind wanted that.

  Instead, Dom was trying to make mini quiches. He would serve them to her with a salad of spring greens and a flute of champagne and orange juice. That was what women wanted. He figured that was the apology he owed her for waking her in the middle of the night.

  Unable to stop the beast, he found himself in her bedroom. He’d managed to stop himself before he crawled into bed with her, but she’d still woken. Aimee should have ignored him and gone back to sleep. He’d felt awful when she followed him downstairs.

  What was he doing? He stopped himself and looked over the tools and ingredients spread across the counter. He should have been pushing Aimee away. It would help her move on if he distanced himself from her. Instead, he was making her breakfast in bed because he couldn’t seem to get control over himself. It would hurt both of them in the end, but he figured he couldn’t waste the work he’d already put in.

  This was the last thing he would do for her. After this, Dom knew he needed to leave her be. After this, he would leave the cabin to her. There were other places to sleep. There was a life waiting for Aimee that would make her happy.

  ***

  Aimee woke to the smell of butter and herbs. Her stomach growled, and she cracked open her eyes to find a tray waiting on the bedside table. A small, folded note sat beside a small pie shell filled with baked eggs and meat. The flute of bubbly orange juice hissed as the bubbles escaped.

  Distantly, she became aware of the sound of rushing water. Slowly, groggily, she pushed herself out of bed and left to investigate the noise. In the bathroom, she found Dom crouched by the tub faucet. She stepped quietly as if he were a rabbit and her presence might spook him. The floorboard beneath her foot creaked and gave her away, making his head spin toward her.

  Her analogy was st
rangely accurate from the look in his eyes. She held her breath and waited for him to bolt for the door. Instead, his shoulders slowly eased, and he offered a forced smile. When she stepped closer, the smile slowly bled into an expression of happiness. It wasn’t a smile, but a look that she welcomed nonetheless.

  “Did you try the food? I hope I didn’t ruin it.”

  She glanced back at the tray waiting on the side table. “No, I haven’t touched it yet. You did all this for me?”

  The gesture was at war with the way he’d been treating her. If anything, it was confusing. Her heart twisted as her thoughts ran in two opposite directions. For a while, she pondered if he and his bear were split, one having taken a liking to her while the other rebelled against the thought of her. She couldn’t figure out which was which, though.

  “I, ah, did this as an apology. I’m sorry I woke you last night.”

  She scratched her head. “Huh? You did all this just because you happened to wake me up?”

  “Well, I did stand in the corner of your room like a creep. That wasn’t exactly nice or smart or anything else good. This seemed like…the beginning of an apology.”

  Aimee sighed. The breath that left her was filled with everything heavy she’d been carrying. “If this is only the beginning, then go get that try. You’re going to feed me while I bathe.”

  To prove her point, she reached for the hem of her tank top and tugged it over her head. Dom stared up from where he knelt by the tub, eyes going wild again. They roved up the straight line of her waist and paused at the lacy bralette that hid her breasts.

  “Well, are you going to go get it?” She stepped out of her sleep shorts.

  Dom’s beast flashed over his eyes, gold slipping over the dark irises. She wanted to reach out and touch his cheek, to feel the roughness that was his beard and have him lean into her hand. Instead, she walked past him, stripping away her bralette. She didn’t think what she hid behind it was anything all that great, but she could feel his eyes following her.

  When she looked back, he was tense. The gold swirling over his eyes fought for dominance. A hungry growl rumbled up his throat and made his Adam’s apple vibrate. Aimee wondered if it would be as sweet as an apple. She wanted to taste it and find out for herself, her thoughts tangled with his body.

  She only realized that he’d crawled toward her when his hands touched her hips. The sensation of his rough fingers gliding over her skin sparked a fire like a match. She licked her lips and let the fire blaze through her. Knees shaking, she leaned into his touch. She looked down at him, hungry for more than breakfast.

  He leapt to his feet, and just when Aimee thought he would finally kiss her, he left the room. Her own growl tangled in her throat. The fire burning inside her sputtered and winked out of existence. To hide the smoke that would inevitably rise, she doused herself in the bubble filled tub.

  She wanted to release her otter and let it frolic in the water if only to hide the expressions that would cross her human face. She wasn’t sure she could hide the anger and frustration in her eyes, or the way her fingers would keep reaching for him as long as he was in her presence.

  Inch by inch, she sank beneath the water’s surface. Bubbles tickled her cheeks until the warm water rose and covered her. She didn’t open her eyes, knowing the sting of soap would be annoying, but she did linger while her chest began to ache from the lack of air.

  “Aimee?”

  She hesitated, still tempted to shift forms and rise as an otter. In the end, her beast wasn’t interested. It wanted a human body if Dom might touch her. It wanted to know the feeling of his lips pressed against hers, his hands dipping between her legs to find the truth of her feelings for him.

  Slowly, she rose. Dom gave her a strange look but said nothing. He dropped to his knees beside the tub, balancing the tray on the nearby counter. Lifting the mini quiche, he paused and contemplated it. She saw the way his eyes went distant, his thoughts not on the quiche in his hands but something she was not privy to.

  “What? Did you poison it and suddenly change your mind?” It was a joke, of course, but it tumbled nervously from her lips.

  Dom shook his head. The smile that tugged at the corners of his lips made her heart flash with hope. “No. I was just thinking about what my bear wanted to do for breakfast. It had some very peculiar thoughts.”

  She rested her chin on the side of the tub and grinned. “Please tell me what your bear would serve for breakfast.”

  His laugh was bright, and it made her body feel impossibly light. “Actually, the bear wanted me to go out and catch a fish with my teeth and drop it on your face.”

  “Aren’t I the one who is supposed to drop a fish on your face?” She couldn’t believe her brazenness. Her pulse raced. He was going to run again, she knew it.

  But, he didn’t. Dom burst into a fit of laughter, rocking back and clutching a hand over his stomach. She smiled, in awe of the moment they shared. She couldn’t believe a dirty joke had broken through to him like that. There would be plenty more to come if it would break down the barriers he held between them.

  “I feel like that’s more of an insult against you. Should it smell like fish down there?”

  She shrugged. “Every woman has her own scent. Things like baths and swimming can mess with it but smelling a little isn’t anything bad. I mean, if women were supposed to be wary of scent, men would never get laid. It is musky down there!”

  Dom growled, a low sound that filled the room. Swallowing, he shook himself before flashing a wide smile. Aimee knew he hid something behind it, from the way his eyes refused to crinkle at the corners. She wanted to crack open his head and filter through his thoughts to get to the truth.

  “Feed me.” She opened her mouth wide, choosing to drag the moment out instead of chasing him away with thoughts of the truth.

  Dutifully, he lifted a slice of the small quiche to her lips. It burst with flavor, the flakes of crust breaking away on her tongue. A life with Dom would never lack flavor. Already, they had a routine in the kitchen, able to dance around one another and add to each other’s creations. She wanted to imagine a future where he stood by her in her restaurant’s kitchen. To have that kind of synergy beside her, even if they never stepped beyond their levels of friendship, would have meant the world to her.

  She would always want more, want his affection and love, but she would settle for seeing him smile every day.

  “So, what you’re telling me is that if I leave my door open at night, then there’s a chance I could be treated to breakfast-in-bed the next morning?”

  His face fell, only for a second before he found control of it again. “I won’t always be here. You and I both know there will be a day when our lives go separate ways.”

  No, she wanted to say. It didn’t have to be that way. If he would let her, they could figure things out and pave a beautiful future for themselves. It didn’t have to be easy every day. It didn’t have to be perfect by any means. But she did want him to see that there was a possibility they were meant to be.

  Mates.

  She felt it in her soul, a truth that only needed to be realized by him to be real.

  Her fingers curled against the side of the tub, even though she wanted to reach out and pull him into the water with her. She remembered the mimosa on the tray and reached for it, throwing the drink back with one long gulp.

  Dom watched her, silent and still.

  He was a shell of himself, she knew. Yet, there was still a spark between them. She could see it, feel it. He was the one who kept dousing it. He was the one turning away.

  Aimee couldn’t keep hurting herself over and over just because she held onto the hope that they could work something out. He was right, they needed to go separate ways. She had to move on. This hurt too much to bear every day.

  He took the flute from her, hand covering hers for a moment. She wanted to hold onto it, to him, but let it slip from her grip. Once he set it down, he turned back to her. His eye
s were somber and filled with regret. She knew what he was thinking about. The battle on the hill had haunted all of them, Dom most of all.

  She was moments away from begging him to forget about it when his hand returned. His knuckles brushed over her cheek and sent a thrill down her spine. She shuddered, closing her eyes and leaning into his touch. Her stomach tightened. It hungered for this, for his attention.

  Her breath caught in her throat. She thought he would go further, finally moving away from the pain he was clinging to, but the kiss she expected never came. When she opened her eyes, he was gone.

  Aimee cursed and slapped at the water. It splashed over the edge of the tub, but she refused to care. He could deal with the water damage. It wasn’t her problem.

  Chapter Four

  Aimee tapped her pen against the notebook. Above the menu ideas was a quick sketch of the storefront she dreamed of. It was simple, with a sign hanging over the door that read Bueok. She’d dreamt of it for years, the vision evolving in her head with each turn of the earth. It was her kitchen, her bueok.

  Somewhere in the world, there was a family of otter shifters who didn’t know she existed. Aimee knew she was an accident, but her mother had been happy. At first. Her Korean family cherished her and taught her how to cook like them, until Aimee’s body began to change in ways they didn’t expect.

  A growing girl’s body faces many changes, but the change from human to otter was not one they were comfortable with. It created discord and left Aimee feeling as though she belonged nowhere. When she was a dumb teenager, she gathered what little savings she had and booked a ticket to Alaska based on some overheard rumor that there was a group of shapeshifters living in happiness.

  How she’d come across a bear talking about the Den, she didn’t know. She wished she’d stuck around longer and listened. Maybe then, she would have known what kind of world she was jumping into, but the Den had given her Callie. For the friendship they’d struck, Aimee would gladly endure the hatred the Den had shown her.