Naomi wrinkles her nose. “You smell like sex. Does she know about your problems?”
That makes Nathan flare up. His heart aches, and he shoves her forward, forcing Naomi to step down the stairs. “I didn’t kill Mihra—”
“We know,” Luka snaps, finally speaking up. “I think she meant your illness.”
“You didn’t kill her. We know what happened, but you being on your is—” Naomi adds, but Nathan interrupts.
“I’m not some uncontrollable monster.”
“But it’s harder for you to control yourself, and you know that.” Naomi doesn’t back down. She steps forward, letting him feel her energy. Nathan shrinks. She pokes his chest. “You have bruising here. Did you shift? Did anyone see you?”
“No,” he lies.
Naomi catches it, going into overprotective guardian mode. “The woman did. I’m going to erase her memory—”
She steps forward to open the door, but Nathan grabs her by the shoulder and shoves her away on impulse. The force of his push makes her stagger down the steps. Nathan grits his teeth.
“This is my life. I’m not just your idiot older brother. I just want to stay somewhere where I don’t have to shift. I don’t want any of what you all want. You can go home. Leave me the hell alone and keep your guardian powers far away. How did you even find me here?”
“We’ve been here a few days already, biding our time. I got a job working for this woman’s neighbor, Alice. She told me about you.” Luka brings his eyes up to Nathan’s, still looking bored. “And actually, we can’t leave you alone. A paranormal crime investigator tracked you here.” Luka digs some dirt out from underneath his nails.
Nathan stared. “What? How?”
“People are getting better at tracking us, Nathanael,” Naomi says, gently resting her a hand on Nathan’s shoulder. He pulls away, but she continues. “We think he was tracking you when you began swimming and discreetly followed by boat up to a certain point.”
Breathing shallowly, Nathan tries to swallow down his anxiety. “So he…knows I’m here?”
Naomi shakes her head. “No. But it won’t take long if you aren’t careful. Come home with us. We’ll figure things out.”
The dark-haired man hesitates, pulling farther away from his sister. His throat feels dry and painful. What should he do? If he goes home, he’ll be in the city where his mate died. Even if they move, he’ll be stuck around shifters who will never let him get away from that part of his life. Slowly, hesitantly, Nathan shakes his head.
“I want to stay. At least, longer.”
Naomi furrows her brow. “Nathan, that’s not—”
“Naomi.” Luka stops her, firmly gripping her shoulder. He nods at the other two shifters down the driveway, probably Raine and Toby. “Let’s just go. I sense he has feelings for whoever he’s staying with. Don’t push it or he’ll stress shift and then we’ll have a wild bear on her hands. Really, he’s hardly rational either way.”
Shooting Luka a glare, Nathan curls his top lip. Luka just shakes his head, rolling his eyes. When Nathan looks back to his sister, he sees hesitation in her eyes. Eventually, she caves. “OK, but not for long. When I decide I’m fed up, you’re coming back with me.”
“When will that be, Naomi?” he asks, bitterness seeping into his tone. “When you decide it’s convenient?”
“Yes,” she snaps and is about to say more before Luka drags her away. Nathan stays at the door until they’re gone, glaring all the way and hoping Naomi feels his stare pierce her back.
When he goes inside, he finds Clara sitting in the entryway. The window by the door has been opened. She looks at him with tired, questioning eyes.
“How long have you been here?”
She sighs. “Not long.” She pauses, running her hand through messy bedhead. “That was Naomi, right?”
Nathan leans against the wall and nods, feeling his heart sink. He knows this won’t last forever. Naomi will drag him back to Charlottetown or wherever she wants them to move to now. For her, it’s always about what’s best for the shifters. She was the one who always said that polar bears are solitary animals, so why is she trying to push some garbage pack dynamic now?
“We got along better before she was awoken as a guardian.” Nathan closes his eyes. “Now, it seems she cares more about what people think of shifters than how they feel about me.”
Clara is silent for a moment. Then, she opens her mouth and breathes in through her teeth. “Nathan…”
He opens his eyes, uncrossing his arms. “Hm?”
“Did you…kill the girl from Charlottetown?”
Nathan’s blood goes cold. Freezing in place, he runs a hand over his mouth and jaw. Clara’s eyes are wide, scared…
Nathan shakes his head, swallowing his pain and grief. “No.” He pauses. “But everyone seems to think I did.”
Lips parting, Clara nods. She fiddles with the hem of her shirt and avoids eye contact. It occurs to Nathan that she probably doesn’t believe him. There’s a deep sting in his sternum that won’t go away. Stepping across the floor to her, he watches her wince. He drops to his knees in front of her wheelchair.
Clasping her hand inside of his, Nathan looks at her. “I didn’t kill her. I know you don’t believe me, but I swear on my life, my blood, I would never kill anyone.” He breathes out shakily, making sure to keep the dark eye contact. He wants her to feel his intent. “I can’t control myself as easily, that’s true, but I’ve never killed anyone. I promise.”
“Who was she to you, Nathan?”
Nathan closes his eyes, dropping his head and leaning it against her legs. “Mihra was…my mate.” He opens his eyes, crossing two fingers and holding them up. “We were like this. We were going to be forever. I know not everything can last and polar bears don’t mate for life, so it was just a human relationship between shifters, but I think we would have worked out.”
“How did she die?”
Nathan shakes his head. “I can’t. I can’t think about it.” It hurts. It hurts more than anything. Nathan rubs his heart area over top of the skin.
Clara doesn’t say anything, but he can assume how she feels. He knows she can’t trust him without all the information. He knows she’s frustrated. He closes his eyes again, feeling her warmth through pajama pants.
Nervously, gently, Clara runs her fingers through his hair. He breathes slowly, losing himself in her touch. She combs through his dark, tangled locks, making him feel like he could fall asleep right here, with his head on her lap. “Your hair is beautiful,” she murmurs after a while.
Nathan looks up, reaching to twirl some of her hair around his index finger. “Not like yours.” The texture is like silk.
Clara blushes. From this angle, the moonlight streaming through the skylight makes her hair look bronzed, like a halo. Nathan’s heart flips, and he curses it once again for doing so. He aches.
Standing, he backs away. Clara looks up at him cautiously, expression almost pitying. “How do I get to you?”
Nathanael closes his eyes. The last time he felt this spark, it ended in her dead body. He won’t be able to handle that again. Hell, he didn’t handle it the last time. “You don’t,” he answers, opening his eyes again.
Clara looks mad. Her expression curls into something ugly and irritated. “Fine. Live in your world, Nathanael. I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, but you’re playing yourself if you think this will get you anywhere.”
Nathan has no way to respond to that. He doesn’t make eye contact, and soon enough Clara wheels herself back toward her room. Standing in the dark, Nathan tries to think rationally. His heart pangs.
The rational, protective part of his brain beats him with the image of Clara’s pitying face. He jumps between her expression of anger and the memory of her tenderness after they kissed for the first time. It was just hours ago, but it feels like days.
He runs his hands over his face.
Going to the kitchen, he cleans the left
over dishes. When that’s done, he still doesn’t feel tired. Nathan stares out the windows at the water and then gives in to a call he’s been trying to repress.
Opening the sliding door, he quietly slips outside and jumps off the patio, onto the ground. Jogging down the hill and into the sand, he slips his tennis shoes off and leaves them by the bluffs. Underneath his feet, the sand feels warm. It digs into the skin between his toes. Nathan looks at the moon. It’s just a crescent, but it lights up the landscape with a silver glow.
The air smells like salt here and the smoke from someone’s nearby chimney. Wind on his shirtless skin makes him shiver.
Slowly, he approaches the ocean. When he gets to the tide line, he kneels and lets the water wash over his hands and get his jeans wet. “Heavens above,” he murmurs, the cold water biting at his skin.
“She isn’t here. I’m here, Nathan.”
Clara’s voice and gentle touch works its way under his skin. Choking on his discomfort, Nathan shivers. The pain starts bristling through him as he kneels, letting the water soak him. From deep inside of his body, the rough, wild part of him gathers strength.
“No,” he gasps out, “Stay down.”
The animal doesn’t let go. It feeds on his emotions as always, taking the opportunity to break free. He digs his claws into the sand as it starts, ripping over his spine. The pain is mind splitting. Crying out, he brings his fist up and slams it down, splashing himself with water.
Nathan’s body shifts. The bear breaks free, shifting his body and tearing at his joints and mind like it always does, like it’s never done for his sister or Luka or Raine or any of the others.
The bear form takes over, turning his senses, his mind, into something much wilder. He’s in control now, but the feeling still drags. It burns. Lumbering into the water and letting his sleek white fur get drenched, he channels any emotion, any feeling, into the strength of this body.
Nathan swims out to where a small bank of sand has been left exposed by the low tide. As he swims, his brain throws him into a world of senses.
He can smell the salt in the water, the salt on the breeze. He can smell smoke. He can smell Luka the strongest of the shifters, since he’s living so close. Naomi is the second strongest but only because he knows her. Somewhere else in town, he smells Raine and Toby.
Nathan can’t quite determine if that sense of smell is more a bear trait or a shifter trait.
He can smell Clara, too. The scent feels stronger than he’s OK with, like his brain is hyper fixating on it. She smells like lavender, even from this far away. He makes a noise that comes out as a pained growl. Even in this form, he can’t escape it.
He wandered from town to town for a few weeks after Mihra died. It hasn’t been that long, and the grief is still fresh. Nathan’s afraid that what he feels for Clara is just a projection, a desperate attempt to replace Mihra.
But Clara’s nothing like Mihra, so how would that make sense? He can’t trust himself. He can’t trust this body or his emotions or his logic or any of it.
Eventually, exhausted from swimming and cold, he drags himself back to shore. His body shifts back without his permission just as he’s getting to shore, leaving him to drag himself onto the sand, completely drenched. Gasping, he lies for a while before sitting and staring at the dark ocean he’s always loved.
Being a shifter is genetic. It’s an incredibly common trait once it’s in the genetic line, and it’s rare for someone to come out as a non-shifter from a shifter family. Ten or so years ago, a celebrity came out as a shifter. There was panic, obviously. There still is.
Polar bears are scary. His body when shifted is nine feet tall upright. Nathan’s dealt with this his whole life, though he knows it’s been harder for him than for others. Naomi can say what she wants, but being chosen as a guardian isn’t comparable to his bad shifter genetics.
It’s no wonder the police think he killed Mihra. Nathan’s not normal. He can’t control himself, and even when he can, the shifts are painful. Sitting on the beach, he can feel the sting of salt in his fresh wounds. The bruises will form within a few hours.
People don’t like shifters. As a rule, they’re disrespected and mistrusted. There’s nothing Nathan has ever wanted more than to be human. The others all retain most of their mental states and abilities when shift. For Nathan, changing into bear form has never been anything but a painful thing leading to depressive tendencies. Maybe things would be different if he had a support system, someone who believed in him, but Naomi and Luka and the others mostly seem to distrust him.
He thinks of Mihra. He thinks of her smile, and the way she made him feel normal. He thinks of her brown hair in a bob cut, of her singing voice, of her touch when she bandaged his wounds after a particularly painful shift. He thinks of her sadness and the way it made her feel human in the face of a shifter society that fears weakness.
Shifters aren’t all monsters, but Nathan wonders if he is.
Chapter 4
Nathan stays out all night, listening to the rhythm of the waves and thinking. Not too much thinking, though—the reality of the world, and his situation, is too much to face. At some point, he drifts back to the house and locks the sliding door behind him. Nathan glances at the clock: 5 a.m.
He collapses onto the couch, exhaustion winning against overthinking. Sleep takes him, but it’s a heavy, uncomfortable, sweating sleep like it’s been every night since Mihra died. When he wakes up later, not late enough, it’s to the sound of wheels bumping over the tiny ridges on the smooth tile.
Nathan sits, clutching his head. It aches, but it’s not the only part of his body that does. Clara doesn’t look over at him as she starts heating water for tea, up before him for the first time. Unable to avoid it any longer, Nathan looks down at his body to measure the damage.
A few shallow lacerations dot his torso, as well as bruises ranging from soft pink to ugly, green-black blotches. Shit. If he shifts again in the next week or so, he’s going to be in a world of hurt. This is bad enough already. Stupid.
He glances at Clara again. She’s avoiding him, doing the dishes. Nathan’s mind flashes to the previous night, and he doesn’t blame her for being angry with him.
Standing, he holds back a groan of pain and walks to her. Carefully, he reaches toward the dishes. “I can do these—”
Clara swats his hand, glaring. “I’ve been washing my dishes for years. I can do it myself.”
Taken aback by her spitting irritation, Nathan steps back. At first, his natural impulses make him irritated. He swallows his frustration and focuses on breathing. “Clara, about last night…”
She doesn’t look at him and continues scrubbing a plate, awkwardly, with her one working hand. “What about it?”
What can he say? “It’s hard for me to talk about these things. It was so recent. I don’t know what to do, what I feel for you, or how to process it.”
Setting the plate in the drying rack, Clara hangs her hand over the edge of the low sink and sighs. After a moment, she tilts her head and looks at him. “I know,” she breathes. “I wish it wasn’t like that, though. The least you can do is stop flip-flopping between kind and distant. I’m getting whiplash, Nathan.”
He nods. “I’ll try.”
Clara gives him a smile that makes him think she knows he’s not going to stick around. After all, how could he? Even if he wanted to stay, Naomi can’t be reasoned with. She’s more powerful than him, even when he’s fully in control of his shifted body, which he usually isn’t.
Clara beckons with two fingers, and he steps toward her. She looks over his body, running her fingers over his chest and the bruises covering his skin. It’s worst near joints. His elbows, wrists, and shoulders are the most damaged.
“You’re a mess,” she murmurs. “Did this happen because you shifted? Did Naomi make you?”
He shakes his head. “No. I got stressed and shifted without meaning to.”
She nods but doesn’t respond, continuing
to run her fingers over his torso before dropping them to her side. She looks tired, leaning back in her wheelchair.
“Did you sleep at all?”
“Not much,” she admits, making eye contact again. “Was too irritated.”
Nathan bites his lip. “Sorry.”
She waves it away with her hand. “Whatever. Make up for it by going back to bed with me. Sound fair?” A small smile lights up her expression.
“Perfectly fair,” he murmurs. Nathan leans down and brushes his lips against her cheek, feeling her shiver underneath his touch. That familiar, possessive feeling rushes through his body, and he wraps his arms around her, soaking up her warmth. The bruises on his arms hurt as he does so, but it’s worth it.
He pushes her chair to her bedroom, and she gets into the bed by herself. He’s never slept in this bed, but the silk sheets feel nice against his injured skin. Pulling his body taut to her back, he wraps his arms around her torso.
“You’re warm,” she murmurs.
He kisses the back of her ear. “I know.”
She falls asleep before him. As Nathan dozes off, he listens to the soft hum of her quiet snoring.
Days pass. Days become a couple weeks. Every day, Nathan wakes up expecting Naomi to drag him home. She never does. In fact, he never even sees her. Nathan runs to town to get groceries, but he never sees the investigator the other shifters mentioned.
Loved by The Alpha Bear (Primal Bear Protectors Book 1) Page 5
