License to Shift (13 page)

She slammed her mouth against his, and when he gasped in reaction, she thrust her tongue into his mouth. It didn't take him long to react. She'd barely discovered this new bold side of herself when he wrapped his arms around her and drew her flush against him, arching her for his possession.

Thrust, parry, push, pull. Their tongues danced together, and when they finally pulled apart to breathe, her heart was hammering and her legs were liquid.

Well, she thought in a distant part of her mind, apparently she could still be attracted to a man who was part bear. She'd wondered, though it had been a quiet question buried beneath the general WTF of discovering magic. Now she knew that the attraction, at least, was just the same as before. Stronger, even, because now the questions were answered, the inconsistencies made clear.

“Julie,” he said, her name a hoarse rasp.

She waited to hear if there was more. Did he have a question for her? Something he wanted to tell her? But the silence stretched on, and when she dared look at him, she saw the desperation in his eyes. The need and…

The defeat. He wanted her but knew that it was only temporary. It was the wish of a dying man. And it thoroughly pissed her off.

“No,” she said, her voice firming with sudden conviction. “No, no, no, no, no!”

He backed away, and it took her a moment to realize he thought she was denying him. So she gripped his arm and held him to her. He could break away at any moment, of course. She felt like she had two fingers on a tiny patch of fur on a bear. But she held on with everything she had.

“You are not giving up. You are not slinking off like some whipped dog to die.”

He straightened at that. “Do you know how insulting that is?”

“I don't care,” she said. “Look, you want to find some magic potion to keep you human? Well, this is the age of the Internet.” She cracked her knuckles. “We're going to find it.”

He sighed. “Julie, we've been looking—”

“Don't care, Mark.
I
haven't been looking. You need someone with experience in anthropology and folktales and I don't know what. That's my father.”

“We can't bring him in.”

“Without him, you'll just have to settle for me. I'm his daughter, can read his nutso shorthand, and I'm motivated.” She stepped forward, getting right up into his face. Close enough to touch him. Close enough to grip his hard dick, if she wanted to. And she really wanted to. But she held her hands firmly on her hips. This wasn't about sex, this was about fighting for his life. And once he had a life—and a future—then they could see about the hot sex part. And the-happily-ever-after part. But that couldn't even be on the table until they solved this.

“Are you with me, Mark? Are you willing to keep searching?”

He took a deep breath, his expression haunted. And for the first time, she saw the depths to which he'd sunk in despair. What would it be like to search since you were sixteen for the miracle solution to your life? To fight for answers, to hold on to hope, only to be disappointed time and time again? And here she was, at the eleventh hour, asking him to believe again. Asking him to give up the peace that came with acceptance and try again.

“Please, Mark. Can you please hold on to hope one last time?”

“There's no reason to think you can succeed where everyone else has failed,” he said softly. “And lots of reasons to say you haven't a prayer.”

She swallowed. That was true. After all, according to him, shifters had been searching for the solution to the feral problem for centuries. What could she add that no one else could?

“I—” she began, trying to find a reason he could believe in. Something other than,
Because I want to believe I can.

“Okay,” he said.

She blinked. “What?”

He drew her hands up to his mouth, pressing kisses into her knuckles. “Julie, this morning was a miracle. I wanted to see you again to explain. And to have you not only listen but to…” His cheeks tinged red.

“To hump like bunnies?”

He grinned. “Yeah. Miracle.”

She felt her cheeks heat. “It was pretty awesome for me, too.”

“So you already came loaded with one miracle. What's to say you can't pull off another?”

Logic? Reason? But they were talking about magic, so she decided to toss those two scientific strategies out the window. “Exactly,” she said, pretending to a confidence she really didn't feel. “We can figure this out. I'm sure of it.”

He took a deep breath. “Where do we start?”

Good question. It was too late to call her father and ask about whatever research he'd had on his tablet. That meant going back over what ground her father already had established before they started looking deeper. “Fire up that dinosaur of a desktop. I still have that creepy thumb drive of his notes.” She froze a moment, only now understanding the significance of a bear with a little bullet hole in its chest. “Oh my God—”

He held up his hand, stopping her explosion. “Graveyard humor. I thought it was funny.”

Well, she didn't. But rather than argue, she pulled out her phone. “Actually, Dad often stays up late reading. Maybe he's awake.”

She texted him, not wanting to disturb his sleep. But if he was awake, then maybe she could get a jump on things now. “U up, Dad? I'm with Mark. Got questions.”

Five seconds her phone rang.

“Dad?”

“What's up, honey? I'm so bored I'm willing to eat hospital food. What do you want to know?”

With a grin, she gave Mark a thumbs-up. “Hold on while I grab something to write on. Mark has been talking to me about your research, and I've got some questions…”

T
hree days later, Mark had to go furry or kill something. He was sitting slumped on Julie's couch. His eyes were bleary, and his shoulders ached. Usually, he reached for food or caffeine at this point, but he hadn't the strength. Plus, his stomach rebelled at the idea of more carrots and dip, to say nothing about that disaster called store-bought hummus and crackers.

He used to think exhaustion was the best cure for his twitchy growly side. No such luck. It just brought his bear closer to the surface. He could step outside and smell the clean Michigan air, but he feared he'd sprout a snout as he did it. So he waited, trying to ride out the violent impulses.

Then he glanced across the room to Julie, who was sitting at the kitchen table. She was taking notes as she scrolled through God only knew what on her tablet while slamming back crap coffee like it was a protein shake. Which it definitely wasn't.

Focus on her face. On the human details.

Sloppy ponytail and peanut butter smudge at the edge of her mouth. Stale coffee on her lips and grizzly hunch that wasn't really grizzly. Her shoulders would ache, and he prowled forward to rub them. To rub her. Without even seeing her eyes, he knew they were tinged with red and that she was developing a permanent line between her brows.

Human details. Human life. How far away it felt and yet every moment, so precious.

Mate. Now.

They had been. Every night in a frenzy of coupling that was the only reason his bear tolerated three days of research.

Outside. Run free.

Simple choice. Mate or run wild. She was the only thing keeping him from going feral. She was his only touchstone to keeping him sane.

The phone rang, startling her and making him growl deeply. She glanced at him as she grabbed the phone, then kept her worried eyes on him as she chatted casually with her family. Her father was doing fine, but his continued fever kept him in the hospital.

Reassure her. Smile.

He did, though he had to remember how. She nodded, accepting the lie. And while he focused on the tension in his body, he realized she'd out-endured him and that was freaking impressive. He also saw what his friends did when they looked at him.

He, too, had gone through bouts of intense concentration. The drive to the find an answer had consumed him. He didn't eat, didn't sleep, and never spoke without a growl. He'd coded his first program in that state. He thought if he could create a computerized hunting simulation, it would ease that ants-under-his-skin need to get out and go animal.

It had worked…for a time.

He'd slept and eaten. He'd believed in a happily-ever-after. Until it had stopped working. It was all a lie. He'd never find relief. God hated him.

Eventually he tried again. Next came DNA studies. Carl's research into magic. Maybe the answer was in fairy tales. Magic potions? Elation—depression—intense work—elation. A never-ending cycle. Highs were fragile. Lows got deeper, blacker. And always the temptation to surrender to the beast.

Take her. Now.

His dick was thick and hot. In a minute, he'd give in to the need. He'd stumble to the bathroom and flip on the shower. And while the hot water pounded his body, he'd imagine mounting Julie. She'd be a large, healthy brown bear, and he'd take her over and over until he growled and released. He didn't do this with her. The need to be fur and claws as he spurted was too much, and he was ashamed. So he hid in the bathroom and found relief.

For a time. Until the need tore at him again. How long did he have this time? A few hours? A day? How long could he hold off until he lost control, became a bear, and took from Julie what she wasn't willing to give?

He focused on her face again.
Human.

He saw panic in her eyes. A desperation that told him she was on his same merry-go-round of hope, desperation, and despair. It was consuming her, and it would kill him to watch it.

He rolled his neck and flexed his fingers, feeling the grizzly reassert itself with every rumbling breath. He watched her eyes widen and she ended her conversation. He hadn't the human ability to hear what she said. He managed one word.

“Julie.” And then he was on her.

She was used to it by now, but he still despised himself for it. No words, no tenderness, just need—raw and animal.

She put the condom on him.

He bent her facedown over the table.

If he went furry, then thank God she couldn't see it.

Mate.

He poured himself into her.

And when he came back to himself, when words formed and his hands were hands not paws, he found himself kissing her back, licking her shoulder blades while he stroked her clit. No danger of too long a claw now. And he rode out her orgasm while still embedded within her.

Mate.

And he exploded again.

“As long as we're taking a break, I have questions.”

Mark grunted, his focus already dwindling now that he couldn't directly see Julie. She was in the kitchen and he could hear her readjusting her clothing. He was in the bathroom, making sure that all parts of his mind and body were human again.

“Do shifters react especially strongly to any type of food or metal or something? Silver? Gold?”

“Frankincense and myrrh?” he asked as he stepped out from the bathroom.

Damn, she was fully dressed again, a light sundress that even a grizzly could shove out of the way. Any hint of their antics were in the flush to her cheeks and the open space on the table. “Yeah. Do they—”

“No. And lead bullets kill as easily as silver. But we do have stronger systems, heal a little faster, are a bit harder to take down.”

“That doesn't help.”

“It does if you're being chased by a hunter with a shotgun.”

She stiffened, and he regretted his words immediately. “I'm teasing. That's never happened to me.”

“Liar,” she said, though the word was muffled as he pulled her against his chest. He hadn't even consciously crossed the room, but now he was nuzzling into her hair and filling his mind with her scent.

“No, really,” he said as he licked the curve of her ear. “It was a pistol, not a shotgun. And he was a terrible shot.”

“Not helping.”

“Tell me what you need, baby,” he said, though the words sounded more like a rumble of vibration than words. “Anything. It's yours.”

She straightened slowly, pushing away from him with a steady hand. He had to consciously relax his muscles to give her six inches of space. “You have to stop, Mark. I'll never get any more work done and there's a ton—”

“Good. Because we're done for the night.”

Every inch of her body stiffened. “This is your life, Mark—”

“I know what's at stake. Better than you.”

She nodded, her eyes too wide in the early evening shadows. “Yeah,” she grudgingly admitted, “I guess you do.”

“I've been facing this for a very long time.”

“I'm not giving up.”

He could see that. It was written boldly in every line of her body. “Didn't ask that. But we're taking a break.”

She grimaced, but eventually nodded. “Okay. Is there a pizza delivery place nearby? Let's order—”

“No.”

She arched a brow. “Hate pizza?”

He chuckled. “I spent at least a month eating only that.”

“So now you're sick of it?”

He almost laughed, but the sound stuck in his throat. “No,” he said softly. “I'm sick of just surviving. Pushing hard on adrenaline and determination. That's no way to live, Julie.”

“But—”

He caressed her jaw, holding her gaze with a ferocity that he feared would frighten her. “I don't want to die. I don't want to go bear and never come back.”

“So let's keep working—”

“But I won't spend my last days working and eating crap. If I've only got a few more sunrises—”

“Don't say that!”

“Then let me spend this sunset having a wonderful dinner with a beautiful woman.”

She blinked quickly, but not before he saw the sheen of tears in her eyes. Then she released a low snort. “I'll need a shower and some serious makeup before I even approach beautiful.”

He studied her face, memorizing every glorious feature including the acne scars and the furrow between her brows. He saw the mole near her hairline and the extra fullness to her mouth. And every imperfection added up to the most beautiful face he'd ever seen in his life because of all of it was her. Fierce, determined Julie.

“You're beautiful,” he said, meaning it to the depths of his soul.

“You're hallucinating from malnutrition.”

He laughed. “Carrots and hummus do not sustain a guy like me.”

“Don't forget the Ho Hos.”

Oh, yes. Those were great, but those ran out hours ago. “A mere bite.”

“Exactly—”

“Julie, I need you to hear this, okay? You are so beautiful, I can't even express it. I like how you look. I like the way your hair curls around your ears. I like the full hourglass figure. I love the large breasts and hips. And I—” He cut himself off before he said the rest. Before he admitted to himself and her that he was falling in love. Because that spelled disaster to a doomed man. And it meant even worse things for the woman he'd leave behind. So he swallowed that part and substituted something vastly less real. “And I need to take you out to an expensive dinner and dessert. Right now.”

Her eyes shone bright, but she didn't look away. “No shower?”

“Can I join you in there?”

She snorted. “We'd never make it out of the house.”

“Oh, well in that case…” He let his voice trail off suggestively.

She wasn't having any of it. She pushed away from him and he counted it a huge victory that he let her go. “Ten minutes,” she said. “Well, maybe twenty.”

“Fifteen. And I'll shower in your father's bathroom.”

She was already halfway up the stairs. “Good idea.”

He frowned. It was hard to focus when her ass moved like that. “Are you saying I stink?”

“Does a grizzly shit in the woods?”

His mind scrambled to replay her words. She was laughing as she rounded the top and heading toward the bathroom. And he…he was stunned. She'd just made a shifter joke. A lame one, but still…What normal had ever accepted the shifter world so quickly and so easily? Especially after her traumatic introduction.

God, she was one impressive woman. Now all he had to do was figure out how exactly he could stay human long enough to get his fill of her. Probably only take a few hundred years…

Julie took twenty-seven minutes to get ready. Shower and sundress were easy, but the accessories took some time. Especially since she hadn't packed for a date night. She could only thank heaven that she'd thrown some makeup into her bag out of habit, not intention. And while she curled her hair away from her eyes, she contemplated her lack of jewelry.

She hadn't brought any from home, but there were pieces left over from when she was a teenager. Wild flights of fancy and daring costume jewelry that suited someone a lot bolder than the woman she'd grown into. But what the hell? Mark made her feel bold. And so she put on the huge gold hoop earrings and decided to go for broke with the necklace.

The pendant was a simple glass drop in lightest blue shot with gold. It dangled from a cheap chain, but it plunged all the way down her ample cleavage. She'd had plenty as a teen, but now as a woman? She had big mounds that (thankfully) Mark seemed to like. And the teardrop drew the eye to her massive assets.

She was nervous as she came down the stairs, but the look in his eyes was like the prom night she'd never had. His eyes widened. She saw his mouth drop a little open, and his hand squeezed the railing. He looked like he was going to climb up the stairs and carry her to bed where he would ravish her all night long. And at that moment, she wondered what exactly she wanted. Because ravishment sounded pretty damn good to her. Especially since she could see the indecision on his face. He wanted her and it was taking every bit of his control not to take her.

She'd never felt that from anyone before. Such intensity. Such absolute hunger but held in check by an iron control. Made everything inside her go liquid with want. And then he held out his hand to her, so she descended the last few steps feeling like a queen entering her court.

“I'm am the luckiest man alive,” he said as he nuzzled beneath her ear. “You smell amazing.”

“I am never changing this shampoo ever.”

He licked her. A light quick flick of his tongue before he rumbled his answer. “It's not the shampoo. It's you.”

What had she done right in her life to deserve this man? This
magical
man. Sure, he turned into a grizzly, and, frankly, she wondered where was her sanity. Who wanted to get involved with a bear? One who had a death sentence coming in a very, very short time.

Her. She wanted to. She wanted him. And rational or not, she was along for the ride for as far as it could take her.

“So,” she asked as they headed for the door. “Where are we going?”

“It's a restaurant a ways from here. That's the problem with Gladwin. Nothing fancy for miles.”

She hesitated. “Are you sure you want to take the time? Dad might be coming home tomorrow and that'll make it harder—”

“I'm sure. Stop worrying. Start living.” He flashed her his teeth. “With me.”

She stiffened in mock insult. “Why, Mr. Robertson, are you asking an innocent girl like me to move in with you? What would my father say?”

His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Probably, can she help with my research?”

She snorted. “That's probably true. I don't think Dad cared about the niceties of polite society even when he was in polite society.”