Polar Destiny

by Skye MacKinnon

  I want more.

  I break the kiss and tear off Torben's shirt, not stopping to think why I suddenly have the strength to rip fabric this easily. He's not wearing anything below and his abs are calling to me. I run my tongue over his skin, tasting him. He is salty and masculine, and I want more. So much more.

  My fingernails are leaving marks on his back and he groans as I go lower, drawing a wet line down to his jeans. His belt is in the way so I rip it off, the metal clasp breaking into two pieces. His button flies through the air as I pull down his trousers, exposing a hard cock waiting for my attention. I kiss his tip and grip him hard, causing Torben to groan again.

  "Isla, stop," he says hoarsely, but I couldn't care less. He is mine and I'm having him. End of.

  I take him into my mouth, enjoying the sensation of his taste mingling with my own. I begin to suck, no idea how I suddenly know what to do. But his moans are enough to tell me that it's the right thing to do. He's enjoying it, and so am I. I grip his buttocks hard, causing him to jerk forwards, his cock pushing deep into my throat. I moan against him, echoing his own sounds.

  When I pull back to take a deep breath, I'm suddenly lifted up and put down on the bed which is now empty. I look around in confusion. Where are the other guys?

  "It's only me and you now, Isla," Torben whispers huskily, lifting up my skirts and spreading my legs. I am only wearing my panties below, and those are wet, probably translucent. Torben kneels on the bed, looking at me with an unreadable expression. It's no longer hunger, no, it's something deeper.

  "I should have warned you," he says but instead of explaining more, he kisses me between my legs. I shudder at the intensity of what his light touch is causing in me. I'm close to coming already, and he's not even started touching me with anything but his tongue. He pulls my panties to one side and begins to lap up my juices.

  It's almost too much. I'm strung tight, waiting for release that I'm not allowing myself yet. His tongue is doing things to me I've never felt before. Yes, I've never been with a man, but I have explored my body. But my fingers have never managed to get me to this point of bliss that Torben is now leading me towards. He slides a finger into me... nobody's ever been in there before. It feels good, no, amazing. I need more.

  "More," I whimper and he adds a second finger. It hurts slightly, but the pleasure it brings makes the pain go away immediately.

  "I shouldn't do this," he whispers, more to himself than to me. But he doesn't stop. He moves in me, making me shiver every time his thumb touches the most sensitive spot of them all. His hand still in me, he stands up and pulls me closer to the edge of the bed.

  His cock is waiting to meet me. Torben is looking at me and I return his gaze, silently telling him that I'm ready. I've been ready for a while.

  His fingers leave me and I feel empty until he presses against my entrance. He is so much bigger than those two fingers and I know it's going to hurt. Everybody says it does. But I'm sure it will be worth it.

  Surprisingly slow, he pushes in and my inner walls begin to stretch to accommodate him. He is big and I'm starting to doubt that he will fit.

  A sharp pain makes me yelp and he stops immediately.

  "Are you okay?" He looks a little confused, then his eyes widen as he realises that he's my first. "Oh..."

  "Don't stop," I moan and after a moment of hesitation, he continues to enter me. Finally, he's all in and the pain has been replaced me a feeling of fullness. Completeness. I was incomplete and now I'm whole.

  "Tell me if it hurts," he warns and begins to move out again. And in. He begins to set into a gentle rhythm and my mind is going blank. In this moment, nothing matters but him. I shut out all other sensations and focus on the connection between us that is pulsating through me like a beacon. We're creating something beautiful here, I'm sure of that.

  He carries me closer to the end, increasing his pace in response to my moans.

  Then, I'm lifted into the heavens as a final thrust makes me shatter. I break into pieces and my mind scatters, lost.

  From the haze, I feel pain in my fingers. In my mouth. I move and then there's something new, a new taste. I like it. I suck, swallowing the bright light into me. The pain subsides enough for me to open my eyes and look into Torben's horrified face before it returns a thousand fold and I let myself be carried away by it, into the dark.

  Eight

  I don't know where I am, but it is too bright. The light hurts my eyes even though I have them pressed firmly shut. Something's wrong with me. My body feels different. Strange. Unfamiliar.

  It's not just the brightness. My head hurts, too. And my hands. And feet. And everything, really. I am one big pain. What the heck is going on here?

  I am scared to open my eyes. Not just because the light will hurt. I'm scared of what I will find. Which is very much unlike me. Come on Isla, pull yourself together. Don't be a wimp. Whatever's happening, you'll deal with it.

  Right.

  One moment.

  Almost ready.

  I open my eyes and look around. Strangely enough, I'm back in the guest room in the shifter cottage on Inchbrach. And the only light is the sunlight streaming through the large window. The lamp above me isn't even on. Then why is it so bright? I blink, trying to dispel the pain in my head. This is so wrong. I know it's not as blinding as it feels, but my brain won't listen to my eyes. Or vice versa. My whole body is out of sync.

  My hands still hurt. I look at them, but there's nothing out of the ordinary... oh wait. There's dried blood around my fingernails. Weird. Did I maybe get a bit too rough when I was with Torben? There are no wounds that I can see, so it can't be my blood.

  Oh hell. Did I hurt him?

  I stumble out of bed, noticing the same strange pain in my feet. I check and yes, there's dried blood around my toe nails too. What. The. Fuck.

  Something is seriously wrong here. I'm getting really quite scared.

  "Torben?" I call out in the hope that he is nearby and can hear me. I really don't want to be the damsel in distress waiting for her hero, but right now, I could do with some reassurance. I blacked out during sex, now I have trouble with my eyes, there's blood on my hands and my senses are all wrong. It's like the air is twice intense on my exposed skin, and every step I take on the wooden floor is twice as loud as it should be. Maybe I'm getting a migraine. I remember my aunt getting them and she'd have to stay in a dark room for hours or even days. Maybe that's what's happening.

  A rational explanation.

  But then, I'm living with bear shifters. My world is no longer rational.

  I try to walk as quietly as possible to avoid my pounding head from hurting even more, but it's no use. Everything is too loud. I open the bedroom door and voices drift to me. They're not close, but loud enough that I can understand them.

  "You've made a mistake," Bertrand says, angry and uncharacteristically serious. I stop in my tracks, eavesdropping. I know it's not polite, but right now, I don't care. If Torben was here with me, I wouldn't have to listen. And yes, I know that doesn't make sense. Blame my aching head.

  "You should have asked her. Given her a choice. Explained everything. Now it's too late. Are you ready to deal with the consequences?"

  I'm pretty sure 'her' is me. And I'm glad that Bertrand is pissed on my behalf, even though I don't know what this is all about.

  "I couldn't help it," Torben defends himself. "My bear took over."

  "You should have more control than that," Bertrand snarls. "You're an alpha, for heaven's sake! If you know you don't have enough control, don't get yourself into a situation like that." He pauses and I begin to think that he's done, but then he goes on again, rage colouring his voice. "And you, you shouldn't have left them alone. I know he's your alpha, but sometimes we make mistakes too. It's your responsibility to tell him when he's wrong. He may have messed up the poor girl's future, but you're all to blame."

  I should probably be more affected by this, but all I can think of is that a panda
is telling off a polar bear. I giggle and the men's voices go quiet. A moment later, a door opens down the corridor.

  "Isla? Are you awake?"

  It's Torben. And he sounds very remorseful. Not to say, embarrassed.

  "What did you do?" I ask, still in the dark.

  "Look into the mirror," he says sadly and my heart sinks. This can't be good.

  I go back into the bedroom, followed by Torben like a downtrodden cub. There's a mirror over the cupboard. Steeling myself, I look at myself and - what the fuck.

  "What the fuck did you do to me?" I shout at Torben, pointing at my now bright blue eyes. "How did you change my fucking eye colour?"

  He doesn't even try to defend himself, he just stares at me with a strange look.

  "What?!"

  "Your hands."

  I hold them up to my face and... this is a dream. I'm hallucinating. I'm definitely not seeing claws where my fingernails were a moment ago. Claws just like Torben's when he's in his bear form. And blue eyes just like his.

  No, this isn't happening. I refuse to accept it.

  "I'm not turning into one of you, forget it!" I yell, hiding my hands behind my back. If I can't see it, it doesn't exist. But the claws biting into my palms tell a different story.

  "You're not." I look up at that. If not that, what is happening to me? But his grim expression is not good news.

  "The effect was only ever supposed to be a mental bond, not a physical one..." He wrings his hands and I growl in frustration at his stalling. "I wasn't sure yet if we were ready for the bond to actually happen, so I didn't stop you-"

  "Wait, you're putting this on me?" I can't believe it.

  "No... But..."

  Torben the alpha has disappeared, leaving a scared young man behind who knows he's done something wrong. And I hate seeing him like that. But I hate even more that I have changed and I still don't know into what.

  I hold my clawed hands out to him.

  "Get rid of them."

  "I can't."

  "You made me have them, make them go away."

  Tears are pooling in my eyes and I try and blink them away. I can't fall apart now, not in front of him.

  "I'm so sorry," he says quietly, drawing a hand through his hair. "This shouldn't have happened. But I will make it up to you, I swear I will."

  I stop him with a single look of pure fury. I am livid.

  "Just tell me one thing. Did you know this could happen?"

  He swallows hard, but says nothing.

  A tear runs down my cheek. I thought I was safe with them. I trusted them. Trusted him. But I was wrong. I should have learned from the past. Trust is dangerous.

  I can't let him see me cry. I don't want to give him that power over me.

  I barge past him and run down the corridor, my barefoot feet loud on the wooden floor, hurting my head, but I keep running, out of the house, into the snow, away from the men that I thought were my friends.

  For once, I don’t feel the cold. In contrary, the running makes me warm and I revel in the feeling of my hot skin on the snow. It isn’t fresh snow and a thin layer of ice has formed on the top which cracks whenever I step on it. Most of the times, I sink in, making running more difficult. But my mind isn’t focussed on my surroundings. In my head I see Torben, Finn, Húnn and Ràn, staring at me, at my new eyes, at my claws.

  The claws on my toes have retracted at some point, but they are still very much present on my hands. I keep my gaze away from them. They are proof that I am different and that everything has changed. I thought I had found people I could trust. On Salvation Island, I’d always been alone, had always fought for myself. I had a single friend, and when she left, I felt even more alone than I had before. Finding the bears had awoken something in me that I had kept buried for a long time. Ever since my parents died and I moved in with my uncle. I gave myself hope to finally have friends. People who actually cared for me. Who wanted me to be around not as a bargaining chip, but because they liked me.

  I should have known it wasn’t real. That it wouldn’t last.

  I should never have opened my heart to them. Now it’s hurting, bleeding, and there’s nobody to catch me.

  I stop and wipe away the hot tears on my cheeks. I have no idea how long I’ve been running for. I can’t see anything but low hills covered in snow. I must be far inland, and I’m realising I have no idea how big this island is. When we arrived, we’d been travelling for days and I was too tired to look around properly. Now I wish that I had. My new claws won’t help me survive out here. I may no longer feel cold but that doesn’t mean it will stay that way. I’m wearing nothing but my nightie and I’m barefoot. Talk about being ill-prepared.

  There is no shelter out here. Not even a single tree. The only plants are a few bushes, the rest is covered in snow.

  The weather has changed so much in the past few years. Everyone thought the sea levels would increase further, but at some point, it just stopped. Then it became colder. Not ice-age kind of cold, but the seasons became more pronounced. In Scotland, there had never been much difference between the seasons. It was windy and wet most months, with a bit more sun in the summer and a bit more cold in the winter. But now, our winters are really cold. We get snow for months in a row, something that only happened in the Highlands before. And it’s getting colder every year. Maybe it is the beginning of an ice age, but without scientists or a global communications network, I doubt I will find out.

  As a child, snow amazed me. I spent hours playing with the white fluffy stuff falling from the sky. Now, it’s threatening my survival. And I am going to survive, bears or not. I owe that to myself. I’ve fought for most of my life and I’m not going to stop now. Not because of a few claws.

  This won’t beat me.

  I smile at my resolution. The old Isla is back. The young woman who doesn’t cry, who doesn’t get carried around by men. I am not weak. I’m going to make it through this.

  I look up at the sun. It’s almost reached its zenith, which means I’ve been running for at least three hours. It felt more like minutes than hours to me. I will need to get used to these new senses and feelings. I seem to be a lot stronger now as well. I’ve never been particularly sporty, and running for more than ten minutes made me out of breath. Now, I just ran for several hours. My body has definitely changed. A lot. Once I find shelter, I will investigate further. I’m a trained healer and my mind has always been methodical. If there’s a question, I will figure out an answer.

  But first things first. What I need is a tree, or cave, or even just a hollow where I can make my base. Our hosts said that everyone on the island had left, so maybe there are other abandoned houses away from the village. That would be ideal. A little cottage for myself. But how am I supposed to find one?

  Mmmhm. If I was to build a house, I’d want it to be near water. Not exposed. Space around it for fields or pastures. And not too far away from the sea. Which still doesn’t help. I have no idea where the sea is and I haven’t seen any small streams or rivers.

  I sigh and begin running again, straight on. Maybe I’ll finally have some luck and miraculously find a place of shelter.

  And if not, I’ll just have to spend the night outside and continue my search tomorrow. But it’s only midday, I still have time. And despite running for hours, I’m not exhausted at all. In contrary, I feel more alive than I ever have. Energy is running through my veins, looking for an outlet. I’d love to have a punching bag right now.

  Totally weird. I’ve never boxed in my life. Why the hell am I thinking of punching something?

  I smirk. It might have something to do with four bear shifters. Oh how I’d love to punch them all. Between the legs, preferably. Especially Torben. He betrayed my trust and I’m going to make him suffer for that. Not now. I’ve got other priorities now. But I’m going to lock up this rage for the future. It will be ready for when I confront Torben and his bears, and he’s not going to know what hit him.

  Nine

&nb
sp; I never liked the name Salvation Island. But right now, I’m tempted to call the little house beckoning to me in the distance Salvation Cottage.

  It’s almost nightfall and I’ve been running all day, but I still feel only a tiny bit exhausted. I could likely run for another few hours. It will take some time to get used to this unlimited energy.

  I slide down the slope of the hill I’m on, getting ever closer to the cottage. It’s tiny, probably just a room or two, but it’s perfect. It’s got a roof and a door, what else does a girl want. Maybe there’s even a fireplace, although I doubt that there’s a peat supply left. With no trees on this island, they’re using peat as their source of fuel. Arnold and Bertrand had a big stack of it in a hut in their garden, but this cottage might not have that. Oh well, I’ll make do with whatever I find in there.

  Five minutes later, I enter my new home. The door is askew and a layer of snow has gathered in the entrance hall. The house is just as cold as the outside, but at least it’s dry. There’s a coat rack at the end of the tiny hallway, and a door on either side. I open the one on the left first and enter the kitchen. An old fashioned stove is surrounded by a sink and a few dust-covered cabinets, and a wooden table and two chairs complete the room. It’s small but quaint. I imagine an old grandmother living here, making porridge in the large rusty pot still standing on the stove.

  I rummage through the cupboard and squeal in delight when I find a lonely tin of baked beans. It’s a pre-Drowning delicacy that I’ve only had once in my life. I’ll feast like a queen tonight.

  There’s no other food to be found in the cupboards, this one tin must have been left by mistake when the previous occupants left. I’m about to go explore the other room when I notice a small door at the far end of the kitchen. Curiously I open it and… laugh. More food!

  Dozens of tins are waiting for their new home – my stomach. It’s mostly soups and stews, but I find one more can of baked beans and two of sugared peaches. I remember my mother putting those on pancakes, together with a generous sprinkling of cinnamon, and my stomach growls.