This was it.
The end.
Or was it?
Taylee’s mind felt like it was shaking inside her skull, every part of it on the brink of a breakdown. She hadn’t taken her eyes off the bear, and the bear hadn’t taken its eyes off her.
She kept waiting for it to make a sound—to growl or roar.
And then, to attack.
But nothing. Not yet.
In this frozen moment, she realized two things.
First: she’d been attacked. Bitten, by a bear with wild eyes. Eyes that blazed with a hunger she’d never seen before.
Second: this bear wasn’t her attacker.
As terrifying as it was up close, this wasn’t the bear that had bitten her collarbone and tried to do worse.
So, who was this bear?
Remembering all this—about herself, her family, a bear—was draining.
Taylee could feel her energy fading as she and the bear maintained their intense stare. Everything started to blur: the bear, the trees, the dark sky.
Then, a cloud rolled over her mind, and she blacked out.
She smelled both familiar and strange.
How was that possible?
He was trying to identify the mix of scents, like a human trying to detect flavors in a fine wine. And for the first time in a long time, he was failing.
He smirked. Well, his human side smirked; bears couldn’t really do that, but he enjoyed his own humor in either form.
But the closer he got to this injured girl, the more he realized this was no laughing matter.
He saw how her foot was caught under a twisted branch, how she tried to cover herself despite her shaking. How her thin clothes clung to her hips.
He stood on his hind legs to get a better look at her, but then she turned, and their eyes met—Are you nuts? He could already hear Ervin scolding him.
Never make eye contact, never!—and he saw a fear more intense than anything he’d ever seen in a human.
A cruel bear—or wolf—would have exploited that fear, used force to silence it.
He’d seen his fellow bears—and wolves—give in to that instinct time and time again, when their animal urges took over.
But his only urge, surprisingly, was to take care of her.
Clearly, she didn’t understand his intention. Not by the look in her eyes, wide with terror, shining like silver coins.
She hadn’t screamed, but that was only because she was exhausted, her voice gone.
Before he could do anything, she fainted. That was probably for the best. She needed to heal, and he needed to get her somewhere safe.
He dropped onto all fours and approached her, careful not to scratch her with his claws. He could see the bite mark on her collarbone. She’d already been hurt.
He gently nudged her shoulder. Even with blood on her skin, she was soft. And he could still see the almond shape of her eyes, the sweep of her short black hair across her cheek, and the bangs on her forehead.
It was time to go.
He nudged her onto his back and took a different path than the one he’d come in on. No need to risk being seen.
Tavis wondered how he must look, carrying an unconscious, bloody girl into his apartment. What would people think?
It was easier to carry a limp body as a bear. But he’d shifted back at the edge of the forest, just before crossing the road. Behind a bush, out of sight of any passersby.
At that hour, anyone who saw him might have thought they were seeing things, or had too much to drink.
Still, he didn’t want to risk it.
Thankfully, dawn was still a while away.
He lived alone. Even Ervin lived with his girlfriend now, but Tavis had always been a bit of a loner.
His friends gave him a hard time about it.
Sure, he brought a girl home now and then, but it never led to anything serious.
He’d never brought a girl home like this before.
He laid her on the wooden floor next to the TV stand and put a pillow under her feet. Then, another pillow, just to be safe.
If he remembered anything about first aid, it was that you had to elevate the feet.
He checked her pulse constantly, almost obsessively. On her wrist, on her neck.
He brought a bowl of lukewarm water to her side, added a pinch of salt, and used a rag to clean the blood off her body. He tried to be gentle.
Of course, it was easier to be gentle as a human.
Under the blood, he discovered, her skin was a beautiful shade. Like an olive. It had a golden glow.
He carefully brushed the hair back from her face and wiped off the blood in smooth strokes.
As he did this, he noticed how dirty and bloody the rag had become. So, he threw it away, took off his shirt, and used the hem.
His body temperature was naturally high.
He wasn’t the most muscular guy—a little skinny, according to Ervin, who was a gym rat—but it never bothered him.
And he was usually alone, so he didn’t see the problem.
Even touching this girl’s skin, which felt like she’d been out in freezing temperatures for hours, didn’t make him cold.
If anything, it made him warmer.
After cleaning her face, he tilted her head to the left, toward him. He’d read once that tilting an unconscious person’s head might wake them up.
It might not. But it might.
The sky was getting lighter through the long narrow window. He could see her more clearly now.
Aside from the blood, she had some cuts and bruises, including a bad scrape on her knee from what must have been a fall.
On her breasts, he used the lightest touch. Thankfully, the skin wasn’t torn there; they were mostly just bloody.
Tavis found himself wondering where all the blood had come from, and if it was even hers. But he pushed that thought aside for the moment.
As he reached her lower half, he left her underwear untouched.
That would be the last step.
Instead, he took his shirt, balled it up, dipped it into the salt water, lifted her right leg, and started to clean the inside of her thigh.
Suddenly, she stirred. A groan. A kick.
“Whoa!” Tavis recoiled, dropping his shirt, and landed on his butt with a thud.
She was too weak to move more than that, but he was so surprised he could only watch as she turned her head from side to side.
“What the—?”
Her voice was raspy, like a frog’s.
“Don’t panic.” He held his hands out, as if she could attack him in her current state.
“Where am I?” she croaked. “Who are you?”
Her alert eyes made him sit up straight.
“You’re safe. It’s okay.”
“You didn’t…” She swallowed, which seemed to cause her pain. “You didn’t answer either of my questions.” She tried to prop herself up on her elbows.
“Don’t,” he warned, gently pushing her back down. “You’re very weak.”
“I’m Tavis.” He sat cross-legged. “Tavis Orson. I found you in the woods and brought you back to my house. It’s just me here. Everything is fine.”
He wasn’t entirely sure about that last part, but he wanted to reassure her.
“Are we near Olympia?”
“I want to go home now.”
Despite her weakness, she was persistent. “No, you’re not in any condition. Did I mention you were unconscious?”
“Well, obviously, genius. Otherwise, I would have remembered meeting you and coming here.”
“Not to mention,”—he gestured down toward her feet—“being covered in someone’s blood.”
She looked down. She pulled her knees up, planting her feet on the floor. They both realized at the same time that she was nearly naked.
“Sorry.” Tavis blushed and turned away. “I was trying to clean you. I’ve got a blanket right here.”
He grabbed a throw blanket from the sofa and draped it over her. “I do have to finish, though.”
She groaned and let her head fall back, only to jerk it back up. “Does this mean you touched my boobs?”
He wished he could stop blushing. “I was very respectful. I’m a feminist.”
“Sure, you are.” She turned her head away and tried to look over her shoulder, only to curse under her breath and lay back down.
He held her foot and lifted her leg, and she yelped. “Sorry, sorry.” He set it down and ran the shirt along the outside of her calf. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Not if you hurt me, you don’t.”
“Would you rather I’d left you there to die?” He looked up sharply. She kept her head on the floor, staring at the ceiling, but he saw the chill in her eyes and regretted his words. He knew he’d messed up. “I didn’t mean—”
“Thank you.”
He stopped. “What?”
“Thank you for saving my life.” Her voice was hard, but she wasn’t being sarcastic. “Do what you need to do. I owe you.”
“You—that’s not what I meant.” He continued cleaning, moving to the other leg. “You don’t owe me. But you could tell me your name.”
“Taylee.”
“Do you…have a last name?”
“Are you the FBI?’
“Okay, okay.” He was surprised to find himself chuckling. “And you live in Olympia. How did you end up way down here?”
“I don’t know. The last thing I remember is a bear. A big black bear.”
“It was scary.”
“Was he?”
She turned her head toward him. “How would you know it was a he?”
“Well.” He swallowed, feeling oddly self-conscious. “To be fair, the bear was me.”
