Big Bad Bear: Billionaire Shifter Romance

by Linda Mathers

  “Am I to be your prisoner?” She asked on one of these occasions, and as pissed off as she was at him, she'd immediately regretted having said anything.

  He didn't get mad, but grew more indignant than anything. “Brooke, that's absurd. I let you come and go as you please all the time. But you signed up for this job of your own free will. And when you agreed to my terms I expect them to be met.”

  She opened her mouth, shut it, then nodded. “Yes. Yes of course,” she said feebly. She was boiling inside, but felt as though she had no grounds by which to protest. Technically speaking, he was completely right, and there was really nothing more she could say about the matter.

  It was frustrating feeling like a prisoner in Owen's penthouse. She hadn’t had a date in forever, either. Whilst she was comfortable with Owen and Jones, Jones rarely stayed later than five and kept himself busy with tasks around the house. Owen was sweet but quiet and since their kiss she couldn’t help but feel he was keeping a distance from her.

  One night the pair were sitting in the living room, Owen reading and Brooke channel surfing, when her phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, beautiful. It's Fletcher.”

  “Fletcher! What a pleasant surprise. It's been a while.”

  “Too long,” he said and it put butterflies in Brooke's stomach. “Listen,” he continued, “I know this is long overdue, but I was wondering if maybe you would want to go out sometime? Maybe dinner and a movie, or something?”

  “I’d love to! How about... This Friday night?”

  “Perfect!” He said, and Brooke found herself smiling into the phone's receiver.

  “It's a date, then,” she said, and after a brief exchange of pleasantries, they ended the call. It didn't take long, only until she'd made it back around the corner, for the elation she'd been experiencing to fall flat and leave her deflated.

  Owen stood with his arms crossed. “In case you don't recall, I need you around to lock me up at ten in the evening. Every evening.”

  Brooke made a childish, annoyed sound with her throat, and began to protest. She felt like a teenager who'd just been forbidden from going out on a school night. “It's one night! Can't you get Jones to do it? I can lock you up twice the next night or something to make up for it.”

  “It's the one thing I pay you to do for me.”

  Brooke nodded, biting back a sigh. Owen paid her for a service and she had agreed to do it. All the perks like living in the penthouse were the compromise she’d agreed to make in order to be there at ten o’clock every night for him. But at the same time, she’d not been on a date for ages.

  “You’re right, I’m sorry,” she said. “How about I’m back for ten o’clock on the dot?”

  Owen frowned. “What if you’re not? What if the cab gets stuck in traffic?”

  Brooke bit her lip, wanted to snap at him and tell him the possibility was remote at best. Instead she swallowed and said, levelly, “How about he comes here? And I make sure he’s gone by ten?” Owen seemed to be mulling the proposition over, and Brooke’s heart kicked up a notch as she waited for his answer. “He’ll be out of here by ten. I promise.”

  “Alright, I’ll compromise with you on that much. But he has to be gone by ten, Brooke.”

  “Definitely,” Brooke said, nodding. “You won’t even know he’s here. We’ll stay in the movie room and you’ll never hear anything. I promise.”

  Owen flashed a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “Alright. Fine. He can come here.”

  “I'll call him back, and see if this all works with him,” she said.

  Even a hope of romance was better than nothing at all, although she couldn't really imagine her date would be all that enthused about the idea.

  9

  Brooke's expectations as to the success of this date had plummeted ever since Owen had limited her and Fletcher to the penthouse for the evening. To her credit, she did the best with what she had to work with, trying to remain optimistic. She dressed in one of the nicest dresses that Owen had bought for her, asked Jones to prepare one of Fletcher's favorite dishes, and then paced nervously for Fletcher himself.

  Once he arrived, the first thing she did was apologize profusely, perhaps a bit too much so, for the evening's arrangement.

  “Hey, don't worry about it. Abby told me about this place, it sounded pretty cool. Plus, hell, now I can save some money on the movies,” he laughed.

  Brooke did her best to smile. It would have been one thing if he'd just been trying to be polite for her sake, but he seemed genuinely happy about having saved a buck on her. Something about his demeanor was coming across as rather crass and jerkish, and she wondered why she'd never noticed it in him before. Perhaps Owen's manners had given other men much to live up to, but she knew it wasn't fair of her to compare Fletcher to someone else.

  She did her best to try and put Owen out of her mind for the remainder of the evening, and just to focus on Fletcher. She'd been waiting for months for this date to take place, and she really wanted it to go well now that it was finally here.

  The two of them ate dinner together, and though Jones' food was delicious as always, she found Fletcher's company wholly less enjoyable than Owen's at the dinner table. He didn't savor his food, or make conversation the same way that Owen did. He simply scarfed down his food, burping every now and then while Brooke floundered trying to hold up the conversation on her own. She didn't understand it. Was this the same man she'd been flirting with for months now, without realizing what an ass he really was?

  It occurred to her that, really, the two of them had never even had a real conversation about anything of any importance. She'd merely responded warmly to his interest in her, and he'd poured on the charm any time she was in his vicinity.

  What if he’s was just working me, she thought. What if this was a routine that he carried out with any number of women, and he intended for her to be another in a long sequence of notches on his bedpost?

  Damn it, she thought. She was getting entirely too far ahead of herself here. She'd jumped miles along to a conclusion without a shred of definite proof, letting herself believe things that may not have any real basis whatsoever. She was sabotaging herself and this date, and she needed to get a hold of herself.

  Maybe if she stopped trying to compare him to Owen all the time, she would actually enjoy her date, having wanted it for so long. As they were sitting in the darkness of the movie theatre she realized with irritation that Owen was exactly the problem. She simply couldn't get the man out of her mind.

  He was so close nearby, and although Fletcher was the one with his arm wrapped around her, Owen was the only thing she could think about as she watched the images flickering onscreen. She kept checking her watch as the movie played. 8:45, 9:12, 9:27. She scarcely even registered whatever they were supposed to be watching, but kept thinking about the point when she would have to excuse herself and go lock Owen up for the night. She couldn't wait to see him, to touch him... to see him naked the following morning.

  Although Fletcher was the one whose body heat was pressed up against her, whose limbs were tangled around her in the darkness, it was Owen who made her wet between the legs and caused her to burn with untold desire in that moment. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting her fantasies run wild. She reflected back to that day, the mistake they'd nearly made together, and imagined the taste of his lips on hers.

  Suddenly her eyes sprang open. She hadn't even noticed it in her state of indulgence, but Fletcher had leaned over, and planted his lips upon her, even going so far as to put his tongue into her mouth. She allowed herself to be kissed a few more times without kissing him in return. It wasn't so much that it was unpleasant; the sensations were welcome and enjoyable, in fact. But she kept thinking of Owen, and felt unspeakably guilty for kissing some other man when he was so nearby. At last she came to her senses, and brought a hand to Fletcher's chest. Not hard; a slight push to move him back, telling him to settle down.


  “Fletcher... What are you doing?”

  “What?” He said, a wolfish grin across his lips, and an eyebrow cocked. “What do you think I'm doing?” And just like that, he was diving back into her. He kissed her again on the mouth, and this time Brooke brought a hand up to cover them. Undeterred, he swooped down to the side of her neck instead. She shrugged her shoulder, again trying to block him, and now she began to grow indignant.

  “Fletcher, what the hell?!”

  “Come on baby,” he said, putting a sweaty hand on her knee, sliding it up to her thigh. “You know you want to.”

  “Fletcher, Jesus! Fuck, stop it!” She said, trying to ward him off. Every protest only seemed to spur him on, and she couldn't even begin to process that it was really happening. Had she given him too much wine? Had she dressed too provocatively?

  No. It was nothing she'd done. He'd simply wanted her, and thought he could take her, and no amount of shrieking or kicking at him seemed capable of dissuading him.

  From the corner of her eye as she continued to try and ward him off with increasingly loud yelps of protest, she registered the time on her wristwatch.

  10:13 PM.

  A sense of panic that she couldn't account for rose up inside her, and her eyes went wide. She knew that she was supposed to have locked Owen up at ten on the dot, and the fact she had failed plagued at her. Yet she couldn't quite explain the knowledge that she knew something dangerous was about to happen. Far more dangerous, even, then what Fletcher was trying to do to her.

  Although her heart was beating in her ears, as well as the sounds of the movie and the two of them grunting as they each fought for control, far away she could hear an additional sound, like thunder. A pounding, of sorts, against the floor. Like an animal or something, galloping along on its hands, smashing the ground as he ran. She heard a loud roar. Was it from the movie? She heard it again, louder this time. A jaw-wide roar followed by a deep growl that made her blood run cold.

  She could hear murder in it. Unspeakable wrath. In that moment she felt far more afraid of whatever was making that sound than she did of Fletcher.

  Time seemed to stand still for a moment, and both of them turned look at the entrance of the theater in the span of seconds that ensued. Even the movie seemed to have gone quiet, the credits rolling to eerie music.

  Then there was a great, terrible burst as the doors from the movie theatre were torn from their hinges. Brooke screamed at the top of her lungs, and Fletcher yelled “Holy shit!” He clambered off her, zipping up his fly.

  The silhouette of a beast, massive and powerful, loomed large in the doorway. It stood there mightily for an extended moment, making Brooke and Fletcher's blood run cold. The creature let out a roar so loud that it made Brooke clutch her ears in pain. Fletcher nearly messed himself at the sound, and after a moment's standing slack-jawed before the sight of the bear, he took off running down the row of seats.

  The monster immediately took off after him.

  Brooke screamed again, this time as the bear bounded straight over her head, the rays of the projector shooting the movie onto its flanks for a fraction of an instant before it arced back down towards the ground. Fletcher was running as fast as he could, jumping over rows upon rows at a time trying to make for the exit. But he was no match for the bear, who was tearing the chairs from the floor with his powerful arms, knocking them in every direction.

  Brooke stared, wide-eyed and terrified at that what she was witnessing. Fletcher had just tried to rape her, yet she found herself praying for his deliverance in that moment, hoping beyond hope that he might make it clear before the monster on his tail managed to get his hands on him.

  But it was too late.

  The bear had him by the ankle, pulling it out from under him. Brooke screamed as she watched Fletcher hurling toward the ground like a fallen tree, cracking his head audibly on the floor in a manner that made Brooke's stomach turn. The last thing she saw was the bear pulling his limp body with its claws, before the entire world seemed to grow black around her.

  Brooke fell, sliding out of her seat and onto the floor, her head landing mercifully on her arm. Even in her world of darkness she could hear a man’s distant screams of agony beneath a bear's grunts of rage, and felt dimly thankful for losing consciousness before the sounds of him being torn apart could befall her ear.

  10

  Where the hell was she? She could feel the wind blowing in her face. It licked at her cheeks, and her eyelids fluttered, trying to come open. The light of the evening sun blinded her slightly, and several times over she was forced to shut the world out again to readjust. Pine-scented wind greeted her once more.

  Wait a minute. She knew where this was. She'd been here before.

  She slowly opened her eyes, expecting to see the bars of a cage in front of her. But the bars were gone now. There was no one outside them throwing popcorn at her. As she turned her head she saw the man from before, the one who had taken her to the top of the tree.

  She knew him...

  “Oh my God,” she said, bringing her hands to her mouth in shock. “I—I know you. I mean, I knew you, before I knew you.” She realized that in lifting up her hands she'd let go of the tree, and this time it had been the only thing that was holding her up. She began to fall, her arms flailing as she tried to grab back onto it. But there was no need for that now. The man swiftly put out a hand and seized her wrist to prevent her fall. He pulled her back to safety, her body inches away from him now, the two of them naked in the clouds.

  “We’re meant to be together,” said the man. She peered into his mesmerizing eyes, knowing his words to be true.

  “I know,” she said. She leaned up into him, and their mouths parted. Their lips dissolved together, and it was like the morning they'd nearly had sex came flooding back to her. Their bodies twisted through the air, soaring through the clouds as their forms entwined.

  * * *

  Brooke awoke, softly. Her eyes tilted upward, and she took in the soft glow of her surroundings, as though she was still in a dream.

  It took her a while to work out just where she was, or to recall precisely what had happened prior to losing consciousness. The whole room was sideways, and it took her a great deal of effort for her to upright herself, and begin to piece together just what the hell was going on.

  She was still in the movie theater, albeit on the floor now, and the projector was no longer working. She blinked, and looked around at the destruction surrounding her. Row upon row of the theater's seating had been torn up and ripped to pieces, and it was in that moment that she recalled the bear.

  “Oh God...” she said, remembering what it had been about to do to Fletcher right before she'd lost consciousness. Somehow, it seemed certain beyond a doubt that he was dead now, and such a notion felt positively absurd.

  Surely she'd dreamt it all. She'd dreamt of bears before, so it wasn't that great of a stretch to chalk this up to a nightmare.

  But then, suddenly a yelp escaped from her throat, at the sight of something huge and looming standing in the opposite doorway of the theater. She felt like screaming, and running for her life, yet she knew that doing either of these things would only put her in greater danger.

  The beast began to move toward her.

  Her blood ran cold as it approached, moving slowly down the aisles on its paws. It was calm, in control. Absent all of the animosity it had previously shown. She waited, holding her breath, thinking that it was her turn now.

  Surely, this is the end.

  But then, upon reaching her, the beast stopped, looking at her in a manner that almost seemed shy. It stared long with deep green eyes, eyes that seemed unnatural for a bear. She squinted then gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth.

  “Oh my God... Owen!”

  In the space of a moment, every piece of the puzzle seemed to fall squarely into place. The beast waited, its eyes round with sadness. It moved slowly, like it was afraid of frightening her by making any sudden movemen
ts. Then it gently brought its body down to the ground, and placed its head in her lap.

  A shiver ran through her body as its weight bore down on her, and she felt it breathing up against her. One green eye looked up at her, still filled with that familiar sadness, and she couldn't help but take pity on the poor creature.

  With a quivering arm, she placed a hand on the bear's head. She stroked its fur, seeming to know somehow that this was what it wanted. Its eyes closed, and she made shushing noises as gradually the beast was lulled off to sleep.

  Once it was gone from consciousness she continued to pet it, humming a low lullaby. She didn't know exactly what she was waiting for, but her eyes grew wide when the animal's body began to shrink. The fur receded, the skin grew brighter. And it was no longer a bear that lay there, but a man.

  Owen.

  Naked and vulnerable, his eyes still closed, the sight of him caused tears to spill along Brooke’s cheeks. As unbelievable as it all was, she felt pity toward her boss. He was limp in sleep, and after letting him lay in her lap for a time she slowly lifted him up over her shoulder.

  Mustering up more strength than she knew herself to possess, she carried Owen in his wretchedness. She grunted and moaned from the difficulty as she carried him out the door, and then gasped as she caught sight of the hallway around them.

  Everything was ripped to shreds; the walls, the carpets, the light fixtures. Blood was spattered in several locations, and something hard and painful welled up inside her chest at the thought that she might stumble upon Fletcher's dead and mangled body on the way down the hall to his room. She did her best not to think about it, knowing it was the only way she could get through it, and foot by foot she made her way to Owen's bedroom; somewhere she’d never been before.