Don't Shoot...I'm a Werebear Page 2

  I warily crossed my arms. “You’ve been talking to Dr. Mitchell. What happened to doctor-patient privileges?”

  “Dr. Mitchell merely suggested some fresh air would do you some good.”

  I snorted. “Bullshit. The prick’s been telling me for months to go back to Ironwood. Says connecting with my old clan, and being around the woods, would help center my bear and maybe help me with my OCD.”

  “What harm would it do? Besides, going back home might help you become a ‘real bear’.”

  “I’m not a real bear?”

  Fuck, I knew that, but she didn’t need to poke at the old wound. I left Ironwood in a hurry, knowing I’d never belonged there. My first shape shift, at twelve years old, had been a shaky and messy affair. Occasionally, I went out of town during full moon season and checked into a carefully monitored environment, but I’d never connected with my beast the way the other shifters seemed to do with ease.

  “I’m not going to bother to reply.” Leila pulled out her phone. With a few swipes, she showed me the screen.

  Dumbfounded, I stared at the familiar inn name. “You already made us reservations?”

  “Yup, and I bought the discounted rooms, so there are no refunds.” Leila stood, straightening out the creases on her dress. “I’ve already told Jasper I’m spending the weekend with you. By the time I pick you up at eight, you’d better be ready.”

  I glanced at the clock. “It’s nearly four. Bears need approximately nine hours of sleep.”

  “Make do.” She walked to the front door, as if my damn opinion didn’t matter.

  “What the hell, Leila? I’m not coming with you.”

  “Do you want to disappoint your aunt and uncle?”

  I couldn’t believe she’d gone that far.

  “Fuck, that’s a low blow.”

  “Tough love is what you need, Barry. Put your big bear pants on and suck it up.” With that, she slammed the door shut behind her.

  Eluded me, why I was friendly with that woman. No. Leila served as my one last anchor to the real world. Without her, I’d probably be lost a long time ago. Overdosed on my antidepressants and went into shock probably. Jasper, her fiancée, was one lucky son-of-a-bitch.

  I took out my phone, unsurprised to see the message from my uncle, scheduling a dinner for Leila and me. Another message came from my aunt, telling me she knew I was still single, so she’d invited a ‘nice young man’ I should meet.

  “Fucking hell, it starts again,” I grumbled, not bothering to answer the messages. I’d talk to them soon enough.

  Four names made up my contact list—my aunt, uncle, Leila and Hamish. Sad, I knew, but I didn’t need the numbers of anyone I wasn’t remotely interested in.

  I sat there for a couple of minutes, thinking. If I didn’t go with Leila, I’d probably end up out in the streets. I’d start looking for a hit to replace my antidepressants, or find some gay bar and a willing body eager to go for a ride. From personal experience, casual sex wouldn’t ease the emptiness and loneliness festering inside me. For a while it would take off the edge, but in the long run, I’d feel worse later on.

  Would connecting with nature and hopefully, on a more profound level with my bear, really help me in my personal life? Would it give me confidence, the ferocity to pursue Hamish despite the stiff competition?

  A true shifter manned up. Would do all it took to get what he wanted. I’d never possessed any of the traits that embodied a stereotypical shifter. Although able to hold my own in a fight when challenged, I didn’t consider myself confident or possessive.

  Fuck, I couldn’t even tell my boss I loved him. Five years and all I’d ever managed to exchange with Hamish were meaningless pleasantries.

  If the path to true love is riddled with thorns, then I should go in barefoot.

  What did I know of love, aside from my crush? Nothing like taking advantage of the present, to find out.

  I scrolled through the pictures on my phone. Random shots I’d taken of the city looked back at me—couples holding hands, children laughing in the park, a dog barking, all of them unrelated strangers. I thought I could be content with watching life unfold from the sidelines, while I stood in the background. Assumed it would be enough to remain content, living the lives of the characters in my gay novels, while I tuned out ugly reality.

  Couldn’t I be greedy too?

  I looked at the rare photos of Leila and me, where I always looked sullen and disinterested. Finally, I settled on the random shots of Hamish, taken when he wasn’t looking. All of them were blurry, unclear, the best I could manage under the circumstances.

  “I’m going to win you back.”

  Confidence boosting self-help books taught me one thing. Sometimes, repeating the same words would, with some suitable action, cause a reaction. Turning off my phone, I looked around my apartment. Half a decade and the walls remained bare, lacking any trace of color or life. Like me, they remained the same with each passing year.

  Would a mate fill the missing holes in my heart? Would Hamish patch the walls with framed photographs of us, doing the envious deeds the strangers did in my phone, laughing, kissing, and hugging?

  Feeling much better, I pulled out the old battered suitcase from my closet. Same one I used all those years ago when I moved here. I started tossing a couple of clothes in, but only the bare necessities. I anticipated spending plenty of time in my bear form, doing what bears did. After a long shower where I fucked my hand to mental images of Hamish, I went online and did a little research on outdoorsy shit.

  “Hamish, I love you.”

  From now until the end of the weekend, I’d practice saying those words. By the time Leila and I came back, I’d march to his office, yank him by his tie and tell him I wanted him … and his answer had better not be ‘no’.

  Chapter Three

  Barry

  The drive went from bad to worse in the span of an hour.

  Air conditioning broken, Leila rolled the windows of her old Mustang down, tossing me an apologetic glance. I tensed up when the familiar steel and brick façade of the city fell away, and we entered the highway.

  Open fields and occasional trees lay ahead of us. Every instinct in me wanted to take the wheel from Leila and drive back. Ironwood, tiny town in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by woods, had never been my home. Back there, everyone knew each other by name and face. In the city, I’m like every faceless stranger. Up until then, I didn’t know I wore anonymity like armor.

  Grin and bear it. This is for my own good.

  I lifted my shades up the bridge of my nose, hoping Leila wouldn’t notice my discomfort.

  “Jesus, Barry. Relax,” she said. “We’re supposed to be having a good time.”

  Apparently, I’m not a good enough pretender.

  Ignoring her, I turned up the radio, not really in the mood for conversation. I replayed my journey from five years ago. Recalled how excited I’d been, taking my second-hand rusty Toyota Corolla further than it’d ever been before. The unbelievably young and stupid me back then thought my life, my real out, would begin.

  I blew out a breath, gazing out at the endless stalks of cornfield. Leila’s car let out a wheeze, another bad sign.

  Before I opened my mouth, she beat me to it, wagging a threatening finger at me. “Don’t you dare.”

  Exasperated, I stared at her. “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

  “Something pessimistic. Don’t spoil the mood, Barry.”

  I slumped in my seat, not bothering to correct her. The engine gave one last rattle, three-quarters to our destination. I rolled down my windows, seeing endless green, pines and oaks three times my height. The clean forest air gave me chills as it brushed my face. My nostrils flared. Close to nature, my bear woke, rising on its hind legs to sniff the air.

  For once, the confined space didn’t give me comfort. I wanted out––to feel the crunch of leaves and the soft earth underneath my paws and the breeze against my fur. I
pulled over and unlocked the door. Leila paused from calling for help.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  I gave her the number of the only automotive repair shop in town I was certain remained in operation. Rusty’s Automotive had been operating for over fifty years, so it was unlikely of the family to close shop now.

  “Doing what you suggested and taking your advice.” I undid the top button of my shirt. God, but that felt good.

  “Tell me you’re kidding.”

  I was out of my seat and closing the door before Leila grabbed hold of me.

  Shirt completely undone, I hunkered over the window to see her worried face. “Look, I’ll be fine. I grew up around these parts. It’s like I never left.”

  She expelled a sharp breath. Her blue eyes bored into mine, capable of seeing past my lies. “Barry, you’ve never set foot in these woods your entire life.”

  True fact, but if I lingered, I’d never hear the end of this. Rusty would send someone to tow Leila’s car. Folks in small towns talked. By afternoon, people would know the prodigal bear who’d never fit in had come back, incapable of fixing his best friend’s car.

  “I’m a were-bear,” I replied tersely, as if that explained anything. “I can handle anything out here.”

  “Says the guy who gets lost in the park when we do our weekly jogs back home,” she grumbled. Leila bit her lip, looking torn between stopping me and letting me go. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I will. If worse comes to worst, phone my aunt and uncle.”

  We both knew I dreaded that alternative, but I knew the words would placate her. Hell would burn first, before I went to them. I needed no one’s help. Conquering my bear and nature—my lone cross to bear, my personal battle to wage. Otherwise, I was not worthy of Hamish’s love.

  I fished out the essentials—phone, wallet, keys and the watch my aunt and uncle gave me for my high school graduation, placing them in a pile through the window and back on the car seat.

  Strap on a pair and grit it out.

  Leila nodded and began dialing the number I gave her. At hearing Rusty’s voice, gruff and unchanged, I tore myself from the car. Kicking my shoes and socks away, I undid my jeans, pulled down my boxers, unused to undressing in public. Shifters and humans co-mingled and had integrated over the last century in here. I wasn’t in any danger, or so I thought.

  Reaching for my bear, I was surprised the shift came to me easily. Often, the transition occurred at a sluggish pace, lasting almost half an hour, as if my beast didn’t want to come out. Fur covered my arms. Bones popped. I gritted my teeth. Organs rearranged themselves. Shifting always hurt. Nothing changed in that regard. Once on fours, I gave Leila one last nod, reassurance I didn’t feel one bit. Seeking escape, I charged past the closest cluster of trees, not expecting a downward slope.

  My hind paws slipped, sending me tumbling down a rough patch of earth and stone. I bit back a growl, not wanting to alert Leila. Instinct made me curl myself into a tight ball. My vision became a blur of browns and greens. Finally, I slowed down and came to a stop. Splayed open and lying on my back, I groaned, staring up at the crown of trees and blue skies. Everything looked cut right out of a desktop background—breathtaking and gorgeous.

  Fuck. When I envisioned myself being here, I imagined myself at the top of the food chain, but look what happened. Here I was––a failure of a were-bear. I flopped on my stomach. Flecks of dirt covered my sides and belly. I ached everywhere. The forest reeked and smelled of life. Birds chirped in the distance, bushes rustled, I felt pretty certain I’d see singing squirrels if I stuck long enough, but this wasn’t a Disney movie. No monster would come along, intending to ravish me, lost in the woods. No handsome prince would chance upon me either. Just me.

  I raised my snout, sniffing. Seemingly endless rows of trees stared back at me. Every damn tree and bush looked the same to me. I started to count. Began with the number one, but nothing ended with seven here. The horror slowly sunk in. The vast space terrified me. All I wanted to do was crawl back home, not hide in an inn with charming country décor—according to their website. And not in my aunt and uncle’s house, either.

  Never did the bare walls of my apartment and the comforting dark of my closet seem more like heaven. I shut my eyes, hoping to tune out every unfamiliar sound and smell. It didn’t work. I could climb back up, but what a sight I’d look. Rusty’s crew would arrive in no time and what would they find? A pathetic excuse of a grizzly, covered in scrapes, leaves and dirt.

  Get it together.

  I thought of Hamish. Seeing us together, his lips against mine, spurred me to drag my sorry ass out of the ground. Back on all fours, I latched onto the nearest tree, spending an ungodly amount of time, counting the branches. Not divisible by my favorite number. Moving on, I looked at the next tree.

  Forty-nine. I blew out a breath, expecting primal instinct, my inner bear to kick in and take over. I counted the branches again. Again, nothing.

  Bristling, I looked left and right of me. North, south, east, west—it all looked the same. If night fell, I could follow the stars, but I knew nothing about constellations. Leila had a point. How many times did I get myself lost while out jogging in the park? Despite my social anxiety, I had the option of asking strangers for help. Here I was, flying solo and not liking it one bit.

  Choose any direction. Stop caring about ‘what ifs’ and ‘what could have beens’. Except that I’d never learned to live in the moment. Every moment and interaction in my life, I’d always calculated. I’ve gone through every possible scenario in my head before making any decision, big or small. Coming back to Ironwood on a whim … what was I thinking?

  My bear lay inside me, silent and useless. I lumbered in a northwards direction. Tried to conjure the lay of the land in my head from the PDFs I downloaded before the trip. I couldn’t read maps well, either. Cursing silently to myself, I began to walk. Started to sprint, direction unknown, and slipped on a branch, landing myself on my ass again.

  Fuck, I’m one pathetic excuse for a bear. Should I have taken lessons before embarking on this foolish task? Who taught shifters how to be shifters anyway? Instincts came on automatically, or should have. I snorted, started to sniff the air for clues.

  I might get lucky. Chance upon a bunch of campers, or smell any trace of civilization nearby. The town couldn’t be far. Ironwood and the forests surrounding it didn’t look all that huge on a state map.

  Time crawled. The midday sun burned against my face. I slumped against a tree, exhausted. Did I circle around the same path again? That nearby bed of rock looked familiar. A snarl slipped from my muzzle. Frustrated, I unleashed my rage on the poor tree. Unsheathing my claws, I raked and fumed, nearly getting one paw stuck. With a grunt, I pulled it back, cradling my paw with the other.

  My anxiety built the longer I remained here. Without knowing it, night would pass. I shivered. I couldn’t have the dark pressing down on me on all sides. I needed to be out of here by then, tucked in some safe warm room.

  I smelled it then, the scent of something good. Halting, I ceased torturing the tree to stand on my hind legs, sniffing. My stomach growled, reminding me breakfast—quickly consumed at the gas station––had been hours ago. Attempts at catching food ended in disastrous results. Deer and hares outran me. I tried chewing on a bunch of berries, or so I thought they were, but spat the foul-tasting fruit out.

  All that wasted effort left me frustrated, angry and tired—a lethal combination. Nothing in the great outdoors made sense. I’d stopped counting to seven, realizing everything looked too damn alike. I walked over to that scent, holding onto it like salvation.

  I heard the telltale trickling sound of water soon enough. Roaring in triumph, I broke into a run, a leap. Beyond shame and pride, I didn’t see the change in elevation. Tucking myself again into a roll, I let the motion carry me. The amazing smell drew near. Back hitting a tree, I groaned, raising myself over a bush. The clear waters of a riv
er lay beyond me, within easy reach, reminding me of my thirst.

  I didn’t wade out instantly, though. Something or someone stopped me cold.

  What did we have here?

  My nose twitched and my ears perked up. The source of that amazing smell stood a couple of feet from me. Body half submerged in water, his stillness captivated me. Faded jeans rolled up to his knees, the red flannel shirt and fishing vest failed to disguise the taut muscles of his lean frame.

  A cap with the logo of the local high school football team concealed a mess of black hair. Underneath that mop of hair, was a face that had seen its fair share of sun. Light stubble coated his square jaw. Intense green eyes, an amazing shade of forest green, narrowed––constantly moving, probably discerning any change in the water. He held his rod steady, occasionally pursing his lips, his very tempting and kissable lips.

  The skin underneath my fur turned fever-hot for some unexplained reason. It felt strange, finally not spending every waking moment of my life thinking about Hamish. Momentarily forgotten, it was the stranger I imagined now. How it would feel, tearing away that cap, those annoying clothes so my mouth and hands could gain access to his skin, those lips. Once I wrenched away those jeans, would he be as hard as I was?

  I needed to stop.

  What was wrong with me?

  Did physical hunger trigger this more carnal kind?

  “Fuck, yes!” His line caught something.

  The sound of his voice startled me, nearly made me fall backwards, but I managed to stay upright. He started reeling in his catch, face focused in pure concentration. I couldn’t stop staring at the way he bit down on his lower lip. He jerked his rod backwards and the brilliant pink scale of a fish glinted against the afternoon sun.

  Any bear’s favorite—salmon.

  Oh no.

  Physical hunger overcame the second one, or rather, both mingled into an unintelligible mess. Roaring, I charged out of my hiding place, eager to get a bite out of both delicious fish and man.