by Meg Ripley
I felt her sigh. This is better. They were right.
We’ll tell them after. Who wants a bunch of bragging bear-wives?
She started to laugh, but the next contraction stopped her. As things worsened, I felt less and less helpful. All I could do was be there. I couldn’t speed it up. I couldn’t take her pain. There was no way I could protect her or our baby from any part of this. I hated the feeling.
Finally, after what did turn out to be all day, she was ready to push. I pressed myself against her as she pressed against me, pushing hard. It took many minutes, and then a tiny bear cub was sitting on the ground.
She began licking it clean, and I watched in awe. When she had thoroughly groomed the baby, she looked up at me. Smiling in bear form was different than in human, but I knew her face so well, it didn’t matter. She beamed, and I beamed back. I nuzzled in closer, sweeping the baby into my arms along with her.
I want to shift back now, she said.
We shifted back and I wrapped her in one of the blankets. We stayed cuddled together for a long while, the baby now suckling at her bare breast.
“Thank you, ladies,” I said. “And Noah.”
He looked up from where he’d been sitting against a tree, reading, and waved. They’d all stepped back to give us space. Now they stepped closer to peek in on the newest member of our clan.
“What is his name?” Tori asked.
This was my part. It was tradition to have the father announce a cub’s name after his or her birth. I said proudly, “His name is James, after Addie’s real father, who she never knew.”
Everyone made the appropriate cooing and awwing sounds. They stayed for a little while, helping to get things cleaned up. We made our way inside the cabin and the local midwife came by to check on the baby and make sure everything was fine.
When we were alone, the three of us sat in bed, and James slept in Addie’s arms. I rested my head on her shoulder to watch him sleep.
“He’s so tiny,” I said.
“Yeah. Didn’t feel that way, though,” she laughed.
“You were perfect. Thank you for bringing our baby into the world.”
“Thank you for giving him a family to come into.”
I kissed her head, then kissed James. With the two of them in my arms, everything was finally right at last.
THE END
Steamy Shifter Romance Extras From Meg
Part I
Ranger Ramon
Werebears Of Acadia
Ranger Ramon
After apprehending a rogue bear who’d committed three brutal murders on our territory, things could finally start to settle down at Acadia National Park. Or so my clan thought.
We knew the rogue had been infected with a virus that triggered his rabid behavior--and unsettling symptoms--before he finally met his demise. But when I was charged with performing his autopsy, I didn’t realize I’d be getting schooled about his illness first hand.
That night, the guys and I decided to head to the local dive bar to blow off some steam. Little did I know I’d be meeting Min, a smoking hot entomologist who worked for the CDC. As the park’s biologist, she was my perfect match; from the moment we met, there was no denying the fire that blazed between us.
The more time we spent together, the more I knew I had to claim her as mine. But what was she doing in Acadia in the first place? I would ask if I could keep the thought in my mind for more than a second. My head was pounding, and suddenly, I wasn’t feeling like myself at all.
Could this dark-haired beauty be the one responsible for sabotaging our clan? Or will she prove to be our greatest ally?
1
Min
When I had been called to meet with someone from the National Center for Preparedness, Detection, and Control of Infectious Diseases (NCPD-CID,) I had been a little more than surprised.
What could they possibly want with me?
They were a smaller faction of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) who were there to protect the general population from outbreaks of any infectious disease by making the world aware of how to be prepared for such events.
I was working as an entomologist for the CDC at the time, specializing in infectious diseases that could be transferred to humans through insects. I studied how they were able to pass along illnesses so that the CDC could figure out how to prevent them from being transmitted in the first place.
I loved my job. I always wanted to go into a field that would better the greater good of mankind and I was pretty sure I had found the perfect job. I was a bug freak as well, so that was a bonus.
My father, born in France, was a scientist; he’d always let me assist with dissections of animals when I was in middle school. I remembered telling him about performing a procedure on a cow’s eye in biology class in the seventh grade and how intrigued I was about the process.
“Dad, it was so cool! I got to peel back the sclera and cut the cornea out, and this liquid jelly stuff came out. They even let us use the lens to look at each other! Everything was upside down and backwards; I could have even used it as a magnifying glass!” I remembered telling him, so excited, I had practically been jumping.
“What ever happened to the good old frog dissection, eh minou?” he had asked, closing the book he was reading and taking off his glasses. “I ought to show you how it was done back in my day.”
My dad had a penchant for calling me by all sorts of French pet names when I was younger. Minou and Minette were my favorites because they had my name in them and meant ‘kitty,’ and I really had a soft spot for cats. My name was actually Korean, given to me by my mother. It meant ‘quick,’ ‘clever’ or ‘sharp:’ all the things she hoped I’d be, and I appreciated those meanings even more as I grew older.
That very same day, my dad had let me sit in on a frog dissection with him. He instructed me on everything to do as I nervously held the utensils. He first let me remove the skin on its legs to show me the frog’s muscles, then I cut through the abdominal muscle to expose its insides. He explained the different names of the frog’s organs as I opened the flaps, and from that point on, I was a total science nerd.
I wanted to be just like him when I grew up. He never told me which field of science he studied when I was younger, but I was actually glad for that because it wasn’t until we performed the operation on a cicada that I knew I wanted to study insects. I had just graduated eighth grade and was on my way to high school, and it was the first dissection my dad had let me do completely on my own. I had decided to cut the cicada clear in half, and I remember being amazed at the sight of its pink back muscles, used to power its wings. I was so fascinated by the differences between insect innards and those of animals that I was hooked. I never dissected another animal again and I would head out almost every day, hunting for new insects to dissect.
I later found out my father worked for The European Federation for Animal Science, or EFAS, trying to improve farming methods with domestic animals. He studied different conditions and how they played a part in the animals’ well-being, which was nothing remotely near what I wanted to pursue, so I probably wouldn’t have wanted to follow his footsteps either way.
So, there I was, doing what I loved and being singled out for a project because of it. When the NCPD-CID had asked for me personally, I was completely shocked; usually, they pretty much kept to themselves and didn’t enlist help from other departments. I, in fact, was hardly ever requested for any projects, unless I was the only entomologist on call that day.
Being French-Korean had always singled me out, but not in a good way. In France, where I did most of my schooling up until college, I was one of only about thirteen thousand French-Korean people, living in a country with a population of about sixty-seven million. I was a minority and most people didn’t know how to deal with me. I had mostly Korean features, but my nose was more bulbous, in my opinion. My lips were full, which I thanked the heavens for often, but my eyes were small, and my ebony hair was bone straight.
My face was not as rounded as Koreans’ often were: I had a strong jawline, and that, along with the nose, is what usually threw people off.
I went through the normal Asian stereotypes in school while living in France. People automatically assumed I was ‘smart’ without proof and picked me first to do group projects with, but I was always the last person picked for physical activities. My thin frame did make me fragile, but I saw skinnier white kids picked before me. I never took it to heart, though. I was, indeed, smart and lacking in my athletic abilities, but I just wished people didn’t automatically assume these things of me. I wanted to be stupid and agile for once—not to get picked first in gym class or anything, just to prove everyone wrong and watch their dumbfounded expressions when I kicked ass on the basketball court, but failed all my tests. I could’ve pretended with my exams, but that would have only hurt me, so I quickly learned to just focus on myself.
It was no different in the CDC office. Everyone assumed I was the best entomologist in the office—even though they had never worked with me—but nevertheless, I was always passed over for field work opportunities. So, color me suspicious when I had been called in for this project, which was revealed to me over the phone to involve field work.
But, I wanted in. This was my chance to prove I could do it and I was determined to show everyone.
The NCPD-CID was located in the same building, so thankfully, all I had to do was take the elevator down from the eleventh floor to the fourth. I was told to pass all the cubicles and head straight for the main office, which I did. Through the glass, I spied a man sitting behind the desk; he was round and heavy set, with dark hair and a very bushy mustache. There was a blonde woman on the other side with an empty chair next to her, which I assume was reserved for me.
I knocked on the door and the man motioned for me to enter the office.
“You must be Min Dupont!” he exclaimed, standing up and shaking my hand.
“Yes, that’s me,” I nodded, hoping my hand shake hadn’t been too soft. I really wanted to make a good impression.
“I’m Eric Hanson, the head of the department,” he smiled, motioning for me to sit down.
I looked to the woman on my left, who didn’t say a word to me. Is she only here to witness the meeting? I wondered.
“I’m sure you are wondering what project I have called you here to take part in,” Mr. Hanson continued.
“I am.” That came off more clipped than I wanted it to. I was trying to go for a more blunt, direct approach, and I hoped he didn’t take it wrong, but he didn’t seem phased.
“Before I give any details, I must have you know that anything said during this meeting is to be held in complete confidence. You can’t even tell anyone in your own department. In fact, if you accept, you will be on the next plane to a national park in Maine.”
Maine? That’s a random location…What could possibly be there? I pondered.
“You have my word that I will not disclose any information you reveal, even if I should decide not to take part in the assignment.”
“Not like you have much of a choice,” the woman snickered next to me.
Eric gave her a stern look and the woman was quiet.
“My apologies, Ms. Dupont,” he regarded. “I’m about to reveal to you some classified information. Hardly anyone outside this department knows about this and we would like to keep it that way for now to avoid a panic.”
Panic? What exactly have I gotten myself into…? I decided to hear him out before I passed any judgement, so I nodded in response and he continued by pushing his chair aside, exposing the projector screen behind him.
“This footage was taken via satellite during a full moon over Acadia National Park. Try not to be alarmed.”
This is most definitely not sounding good…
Eric started the footage and I wasn’t sure what I was looking at. At first, there were just a bunch of people standing around gazing up at the moon. Then, they started shaking as if an earthquake was happening, but the ground wasn’t moving. Suddenly, everyone’s bodies were…lengthening. Gaining mass. And…
Bursting with fur?
What the hell is this? Is this some kind of joke? My eyes were wide, and my jaw dropped as I witnessed the changes happening on the screen.
Where people were once standing, bears had replaced them. They all ranged in height and weight, and just like that, they were walking up to each other, some nuzzling and sniffing, others braking off into a run, headed for the dense forest. With that, the footage ended and there was silence. I looked to both Eric and the woman beside me, who seemed completely unfazed by the footage.
“What exactly did I just watch?” I asked in disbelief.
“The individuals you’ve just seen are what are called bear shifters. They’re people who can turn into different species of bears at will, and are forced to make the transition during the full moon,” Eric responded bluntly.
How can he be so matter-of-fact about this discovery?
“So, like werewolves? Only bears?” This had to be a joke.
“Yes. I have another piece of footage I need you to see before I tell you why I need your help,” Eric said, pressing a button to roll some new footage.
I watched as a bear attacked a woman on the screen. She was waving her arms frantically trying to stop it, while running towards what appeared to be a rocky beach. I covered my mouth in horror as the bear chased her and shredded her with its claws until she lay among the stones, unconscious and bleeding. The bear sniffed her for a moment, spotted something in the trees, and ran towards it.
Eric seemed to notice my fear.
“What you just witnessed was the death of Danielle Peterson, the host of the Travel Channel’s Danielle’s Destinations.”
Wait, what?
“I remember hearing about her death on the news. She was killed by some guy with huge deep-sea fishing hooks, wasn’t she?” I asked, confused.
“That’s the information that was released to the public, yes.”
“So, a bear killed her? Why not just say it was an animal attack then?”
“Because that was a bear shifter, not just a wild bear.” This was the second time the woman beside me spoke up.
“An FBI report by a woman named Blanca Gianni was submitted about the murder with the information that was released to the general public. The information in it didn’t completely line up, so we looked into it personally. That’s how we found the satellite surveillance of what actually happened,” Eric revealed.
The woman made eye contact with me and had piercing green eyes. “Shifters do not injure humans. They have fully aware consciousness and control. What you just saw is a shifter infected with a form of a mutated rabies virus.”
I whipped my head toward Eric to see if this was true and he nodded.
“That’s where you come in,” he said.
“I don’t understand. What am I supposed to do about this? How do they even get this ‘mutated’ form of rabies?”
“We don’t know. We imagine they contracted it the same way other creatures in the wild get it: from a bite of an infected animal,” Eric shrugged. “The point is, we need to help them. And to help them, we need you to help us.”
“By doing what?”
The woman reached to the left of her and picked up a clear glass box.
“With these.”
I looked inside and saw what appeared to be fully grown ticks. However, they were unlike any I had ever seen: they had a distinct letter H on their backs.
“Ticks? How are these going to help with a rabies outbreak within a group of shifting bears?” I snorted. They couldn’t be serious. This all had to have been a joke.
“These aren’t your everyday ticks,” she started. “They hold the antibodies that will help prevent the virus from spreading among the shifters, like we have for dogs.”
“So, like a vaccine?”
“Yes. We can’t cure the virus once an individual has become infected, however, we
can vaccinate the entire shifter population using these ticks to prevent an outbreak. To our knowledge, since the shifter you saw in the video died, we have not detected anyone else with the virus. We would like to handle this before someone else contracts it,” the woman explained.
“So, you want me to go to this national park, unleash these ticks, and do what? Just leave and hope for the best?” I wasn’t really sure about the merit of this project. It seemed valiant enough, but had the ticks had a trial run? Was this a trial run?
“Well, we would want you to stay there for observation. See if anyone develops the virus or has any negative side effects to the vaccine,” Eric answered. His hands were folded over his desk and he was hunched over.
“Is this a trial run?” I finally asked.
“Not exactly. I myself have already conducted two trials and have found the ticks to be effective at inoculating their hosts. We think Acadia is the perfect location for this since the infected shifter was there,” the woman answered. She seemed irritated that she had to explain these things to me, but hell, I wasn’t thrilled to learn them in the first place. This project seemed sketchy and I wanted to cover all the bases to make sure of what I’d be getting myself into.
“What if someone already has the virus?” I asked.
“No one does,” Eric answered sternly.
I folded my arms. “How can you be sure?” I wasn’t convinced by the answers I was being given.
“I know because I have the test results of everyone who works in that park. I sent a phlebotomist there to test everyone’s blood for the virus under the guise of a routine federal blood test. The park had been quarantined after the incident to both make sure the scenes were completely cleaned up as the shifter killed multiple people, and to implement some safety precautions. It was found to be in the park’s best interest to close down for a while until the public felt safe again. None of the staff have the virus, so they make perfect vaccine candidates.”
