Romance: Stranded With The Alpha Bear: BBW Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance (Werebear, BBW, Bear Shifter Romance) (Sweet Shifters Book 1) (3 page)

“No, I’m just saying. I don’t know if your parents are together or what. My parents aren’t.”

“Well, I’ll let them know you’re willing to talk. But uh… what’s your name?”

“Oh, right. I’m Christian. You?” he held out his hand to shake.

“Veronica,” I answered, taking his outstretched hand.

His hand was large and strong with long fingers. It warmed my own hand, which looked small and delicate wrapped in his. Boys used to tease me about my large hands, but his made mine more feminine. I looked up into his eyes, our hands touching for a little longer than handshakes usually last. His stare made chills run up my spine to our joined hands.

“I have to get some work done,” he pulled his hand away. “Are you okay just hanging out down here?”

“Are you leaving?” a wave of fear washed over me.

“No, no. I have an office upstairs for when I can’t go into work. It’s especially useful in the winter.”

“Right. Okay.”

“If you’re hungry, you’re welcome to anything in the kitchen. I’m afraid my cook hasn’t been by this week yet though.”

“Your cook?”

“I have a cook bring meals by once a week. I pull them out from the freezer the night before and bake them.”

“You can’t cook?”

“I’m just busy. It’s easier this way.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. He didn’t give though - he kept that impenetrable scowl. We faced each other, neither of us speaking for a moment. He cocked his head to the side, as if thinking of something to say.

“Can I ask you a…” I started.

“Excuse me, I really must get to work. I have a meeting,” he interrupted, rushing upstairs and entering the third door. I sighed. Well, at least if he doesn’t want to talk to me, I don’t have to talk to him.

I sat on the couch and looked out the window at the sun shining on the forest outside. I wondered what secrets my forest held. I used to think it was so boring just yesterday, that all those stories were made up for tourist dollars. Maybe it’s a lot more sinister than I thought.

IV.

I slept on the couch again because Christian didn't come back down. It still was incredibly comfortable, but I felt out of place. I dreamt about Beth running in fear as the werewolves chased her through the woods. I should have thought harder about it when she left... I should've helped her when she needed it. I don’t know exactly
how
I could’ve helped the situation, but I know I should’ve done something, cared more.

I guess I always hoped she was okay, that she had just run away with someone and not been taken by the wolves.

The next morning, I waited for Christian as I stared out the window. I’ve never been this far out in the woods. The trees appeared closer together this deep in - they looked like an army protecting us from intruders. It both made me feel safe, but also lonely. Though I’ve only been here a day, Christian didn’t give any sense of warmth. His arrogance and cold civility (and I’m using the word ‘civility’ loosely here) made me feel like a burden on him than a guest.

Finally, footsteps creaked down the stairs. He wore a collared shirt and khakis, looking professional to just sit at home. He moved swiftly to the kitchen and to the coffee maker. He didn’t greet me or even look my direction.

“Good morning,” I said, standing up and walking to him. “Your couch is really quite comfortable. I appreciate your furniture taste.”

“Thank you,” he replied, finishing making his coffee then turning to me. His dark eyes stared into mine, and he kept his trademark scowl. “I’m glad to hear you’re comfortable, but you’re welcome to stay in the guest room. You don’t have to sleep on the couch.”

“Thank you,” I mirrored his monotone. “I did want to ask you something though. About… uh… the girls who go missing?”

“Girls who go missing?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, girls go missing all the time. Sometimes they’re just tired of their lives and leave. Sometimes someone takes them and either murders or keeps them for a long time. Sometimes… accidents happen. You know.”

“Yeah, I get that. I mean the girls who the the wolves take.”

“The werewolves? Or do you mean real wolves?”

“Why would I be asking about real wolves?” I snapped. “Why would I be ruminating on random missing girls taken by real wolves when I was almost abducted by werewolves, and you saved me?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, rubbing his forehead. “I’ve been doing meetings all morning, and I need my coffee. What did you want to know?”

“What happens to them?”

“The girls?”

“No, the wolves. Can they get jobs and stuff, or are they prejudiced against?” I said sarcastically. “Of course the girls.”

He raised an eyebrow and gave his closed mouth smile. “Just wanted to make sure. The girls… I’m not sure. They impregnate them, but we don’t know exactly what they do after the girls give birth, you know?”

“Well, have any escaped?”

“Not that I know of.”

“So… are they killed or…?”

“As I said, I don’t know. But since we haven’t ever found any women in their strongholds, I assume they’re…” he paused, “no longer living.”

“Did you find the babies?”

“Yes. They grow quicker than normal children. They’re usually at least teenage by the time we find them. Purebred werewolves don’t live all that long. They’re like real wolves and don’t live that long in the wild.”

“So the girls are forced to have these children that don’t live very long?”

“Essentially. Werewolves aren’t um… they aren’t like what you see in the movies.”

“Are they not human?”

“They are, but they live together in packs just like wolves. They’re like hermits, mountain men, out in the woods. You may have met one of them at some time.”

“What about the female werewolves?”

“That’s the reason the werewolves only choose virgins. Virgins are guaranteed to have males.”

“So… is that why they’re killed? They’re no good anymore for males?”

“Well, the female werewolves don’t survive to infancy. They’re usually miscarried, so it’s not… you know, beneficial for the pack to have females.”

“Okay…”

He sighed, “What I think happens is that having the babies, being impregnated, takes a lot out of the abducted girls and… they die in childbirth. That’s why the werewolves have no humanity toward women. They only see them as measures for reproduction.”

“So they’re misogynists?”

“I guess you could say that. Why are you asking?”

“I uh… I remembered a girl I was friends with who disappeared. I wanted to know…”

He sipped his coffee, watching me. “I really don’t know what happens to the girls. That’s just my guess.”

“Are bear-shifters the same?”

“No. We come from an ancient line to keep order with the werewolves. It’s a… complicated story.”

“Do tell.”

“Well, um… the story is that the werewolves are cursed, which is why they don’t live long and that. Only the leader and his family line live longer in order to keep the pack protected. The leader, long ago, was a shaman who betrayed the tribe. So, they cursed him.”

“But they didn’t realize how dangerous the werewolves were?”

“No. That’s why they needed the protection from the bear. They designated the strongest of the tribe to be…” he paused, “‘blessed’ with the ability to transform. But the werewolves reproduced at too high a rate. And then the white people came, and the tribe mostly died out.”

“How did your family survive?”

“Well, the last of the bear-shifters in the tribe came here to this church. There was a missionary family that tried to save them. My ancestor fell in love with one of their daughters, so they formed a truce. The church has stayed in the family to protect against the wolves.”

“Oh, okay. But you said they hadn’t been protecting the women for a while?”

“Well, there weren’t many of us left, so we mostly kept to ourselves. Then….” he paused again, his expression thoughtful. “You know, I really have to get back to work. I’ll have to finish this later.”

He poured himself more coffee and gave a mumbled excuse.

“Wait,” I grabbed his arm, making him start. For some reason, the contact with him made my own skin feel warm and tingly. “Can’t you tell me something to ease my mind?”

“I think I’ve told you enough,” he replied, looking deeply into my eyes. “Excuse me.”

I watched him go, wondering why he got so strange toward the end of our conversation. Yet, my hand still felt warm from touching him. I couldn’t shake that feeling of his eyes meeting mine, how deeply they delved into my soul. It sounds stupid to say just a look as he retreated could have such an effect on me. If he weren’t so rude, I could probably learn to like him. He’s just so handsome.

I grabbed a cup and poured some coffee for myself. I prefer my coffee black, especially nice coffee like he has, so this could be quite the treat. I sipped it and immediately spit it back out.

“Oh my God, what is this?” I said out loud. “How hard is it to make coffee?”

He may be handsome, but he’s arrogant and terrible. These two weeks can’t be over soon enough.

V.

I didn’t see Christian much over the next few days, though we live in the same house. He let me sleep in the guest room and “make it my own” (though I didn’t have anything to make it my own. All of my things were at my house.) I did jump on the bed a few times (okay,
many
times) to break it in, which helped quite a bit, I’d say. I also found a tablet in a drawer that helped keep me interested.

He moved around the house like a phantom - I could hear him in his room and his office, as well as see his shadow disappear into another room. Sometimes I’d catch him in the morning looking out the window, but he’d swiftly state how busy he was and rush to his office.

I think he’s avoiding me.

On the third day, I stood in the kitchen looking at Missing Persons on the tablet and leaning on the island. It gave me some solace to have a connection to the outside world. I decided to look at Missing Persons in this area to see how many girls could’ve been taken, if I knew any of them. I felt almost obsessed with it. Maybe from being left alone for days on end with little to no human interaction.

Suddenly, a noise came from the door. Probably just a bird. The doorknob started to turn. Maybe Christian went outside? Then the door opened and a cloaked figured entered. I froze, unable to scream. The figure lowered its hood to reveal a middle-aged woman with short grey hair.

“Oh, hello,” the woman smiled. “I’m Gina. You must be Veronica.”

I still couldn’t move. She didn’t seem dangerous, but she did somehow know my name. “Yeah, I am. You are?”

“Sorry, Christian’s told me all about you,” she chuckled, carrying in a bag of tupperware dishes full of food. “I’m his aunt.”

“Nice to meet you. I assume you’re his cook too?”

“Naturally! I promised my brother I’d take care of his little boy. I’m just a little late this week.”

“I was wondering if you’d actually come, but Christian kept the faith.”

“I couldn’t let him starve,” she laughed. “Can you help me carry in the meals?”

“Sure.”

I followed her outside to her car. Though I’d been in the kitchen all morning with the windows wide open as usual, I hadn’t noticed the rain. Sometimes it could rain here with the sun still in the sky.

“Wow, I haven’t been outside for so long that I didn’t even know it was raining,” I laughed.

“You must be a friend of Christian’s then. Sometimes he barely leaves,” she responded. “Especially during this time of year.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a sad time for him.”

“Why is that?”

“You should probably ask him about it,” she smiled. “As you may know, he’s a private man.”

“Yeah, I barely even see him. If I do, he rushes into his office.”

She laughed, leading me inside. “I think he’s just nervous around you. He said you’re not like other girls.”

“We’ve barely interacted.”

“Well, I guess you’ve left your mark.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I scrambled to think of something (anything) to change the subject. “You’re sure bringing a lot of food.”

“Yeah, I’m not going to be around for a while. My husband’s not well.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetie,” she patted my arm. “Hopefully you can give him some cooking lessons if he runs out of food.”

“I’ll try.”

“Aunt Gina, you’ve finally come,” Christian’s voice came from upstairs.

She and I looked up together as he descended the stairs quickly. He wore a tight wifebeater and dress pants. I froze again, struck by his muscles shown so clearly against the tight cotton fabric. I hadn’t noticed his impeccable abs or the caliber of his “guns” (as Kevin liked to say when he’d flex to make me laugh.)

Christian slipped on a sweatshirt as he came down and somehow didn’t fall all the way down. His finesse in mastering those treacherous stairs while also putting on a sweatshirt (though unfortunately covering up his very nice muscles) made my blush spread from my face to my chest.

I felt like like all my skin must be completely red. I grabbed some of the tupperware quickly and rushed to the freezer to put them in. The cold has to make the red go down. Please, please let it go down.

“I figured I should finally bring you some food,” Gina grinned. “Especially since you have a guest.”

“It’s greatly appreciated,” he answered, sounding nicer than usual. “We are almost out of food.”

“You are going to have to learn how to cook eventually. You’re almost thirty now.”

I closed the freezer to face them. His face looked slightly red, but he didn’t falter.

“I’ll learn eventually, I’m sure. How’s Uncle Rick?”

“He’s been better. I’m bringing extra so I don’t have to come by for a while.”

He nodded. “Whatever you have to do.”

She walked forward, hugged him, and whispered something in his ear. He laughed and patted her on the back.

She hugged me as well, “Teach him to cook, huh? Someone needs to make a man of him.”

“I’ll try,” I responded. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you as well. Be good, you two.”

I finished putting away the meals as Christian waved to Gina at the door.

“She’s nice,” I commented as he closed the door, an uncharacteristic smile on his face.

His smile immediately faded, “What are you doing going outside without me?”

“Your aunt asked me to help her carry in
your
food. I was just trying to be hospitable.”

He moved forward, getting in my face, “Do you understand how dangerous it is to go outside right now?”

“It’s the middle of the day. And it’s not a full moon or anything.”

“It’s raining and dreary. This is the perfect time for a hunt.”

“I think you’re being overdramatic.”

“Wanting you to be safe is overdramatic?”

“I don’t know what you expect me to do. You’ve been hiding from me for days. I would rather be home fearing for my life with a change of clothes than be here alone.”

His eyes lost their steely resolve, “Would you like to go get a change of clothes?”

“I thought the outside was too dangerous.”

He sighed, “I’ll go with you. I probably should get out of the house anyway.”

“I appreciate you trying to be nice, but I’m okay.”

“I’ll put on some shoes.”

He jogged upstairs. I frowned. I was getting some leeway on the Missing Persons site. I was starting to get through to a more recent time. I mostly just wanted to make him feel bad rather than having to do anything with him. This wasn’t a call for action. Still, having him so close to me, his face so close to mine I could’ve just leaned forward and kissed him, my stomach felt dizzy and warm. Maybe he’ll decide to wear just the wife-beater because of the humidity outside.

I slipped on my own shoes and waited for him on the couch. The sun started to be shielded by the angry grey rain clouds. The rain fell steadily, but still lightly.

“Here,” a hoodie fell into my lap. “This should keep you warm.”

I stood, “Thanks. Are we walking? We’re pretty far out in the woods.”

“It’s actually not that far. But we can certainly drive if you wish.”

I shrugged, zipping up the hoodie, “I guess I can walk.”

“Great. Let’s go.”

I followed him out, putting up my hood as a shield against the rain. He didn’t wear a hoodie and seemed undaunted by the water. We walked in silence for a few minutes. I couldn’t think of anything to say, and he’s never proved himself to be incredibly talkative.

“What do your parents do?” he asked awkwardly.

“Like for work?”

“Yes.”

“Um….”
Dead people normally don’t have jobs.
“Nothing interesting. What is it that you do? You’re always in meetings, but I’m not sure what your business is.”

“We run a non-profit dealing with conservation and helping poverty stricken countries rebuild. We also deal in research for more economically sustainable energy. It all kind of goes hand in hand.”

“Oh, okay. I would’ve thought you did something less helpful to others. It seems like you have quite a bit of money.”

“My family has made good investments. My great-grandfather worked in oil. It kind of has built from there.”

“Wow. Good for you. My great-grandfather was a drunk who deserted the family.”

“Just because he made good investments doesn’t mean he was a great guy. He wasn’t home much. Didn’t give my grandfather a great example to follow.”

“What about your dad?”

“He and my stepmom retired to Florida a few years ago. My mom left when I was a teenager.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shrugged, his collared shirt starting to become translucent from the water. “I’d probably leave too. She couldn’t handle the war with the werewolves. Plus, when my…” he paused. “It doesn’t matter. Where do you live?”

“I live on 5th and Hazel.”

“Oh, okay. That’s not too far from here.”

“Yep.”

He chuckled, “I’m sorry I’m not much of a conversationalist.”

“It’s okay,” I replied, giving him a slight smile and attempting not to admire his muscles through his shirt (or at least not so much that he’d notice.) “Usually pretty people are meant to be seen, not heard.”

He laughed, his smile lighting up his normally sullen face. “Well, you’re very pretty, and I love to hear you talk. You sure know how to put a guy in his place.”

“I try,” I replied, feeling the blush reappear. “Are you saying I’m pretty?”

“Well, the wolves wouldn’t have been after you if you weren’t pretty.”

That sounds like a cop-out.
“I thought they were after my virginity.”

He shrugged. Our conversation hit another standstill. Every so often, our hands would just barely touch. We’d both chuckle awkwardly, but say nothing. Part of me wanted to grasp his hand at one of these points, say I was scared and needed his human touch, but it’s not worth it. His cold, reserved act makes me feel bad for my faint attraction toward him.

We walked up to my empty house, it looking the same as usual. I guess it didn’t miss me.

“Are your parents home?” he asked. “They may want to meet me.”

“No,” I responded. “Do you want to just wait outside?”

“I’ll come in with you.”

“Okay. It’s kind of messy.”

We walked in together. I felt instantly self-conscious with him seeing the state in which I live, but I just moved quickly to gather some things. He stayed in the living room, looking over the family pictures over the fireplace.

“Is this your brother?” he asked as I finished by grabbing some books out of my small bookshelf.

“Yeah.”

“Does he live here too?”

“No.”

“Is he still in town?”

I sighed, “I’m ready to go. Let’s not talk about my family right now.”

He narrowed his eyes, but didn’t say anything. We walked outside together, the rain now letting up and barely dripping.

“Maybe we should drive back,” I said. “I feel like it’s starting to get dark.”

“I think we’ll be fine,” he answered. “The werewolves aren’t powerful enough to attack when I’m around.”

“Veronica?” a male voice came from the end of the driveway.

I closed my eyes, hoping I’m actually asleep and dreaming. I pinched myself, but the pain proved hoping is always worthless. I opened my eyes to see Stevie at the end of the driveway.

Great.
“Hey Stevie. How’s it going?”

“I’m all right. How is your ankle?”

Oh crap.
“I can stand on it, but not for long. I was testing it out.”

“Right. It’s okay if you want to skip out on work for a while. It doesn’t really matter.” He walked forward and held out his hand for a shake. “Hello, I’m Stevie.”

“Christian,” Christian bristled. I sensed some jealousy coming from him, though Stevie didn’t match the sentiment. He did seem worried and weird though - more than usual anyway.

“Nice to meet you. Um… can I talk to you for a second, Veronica?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Well uh…” he moved forward to pull me aside and whispered, “I was thinking about Beth. I think... I don’t think she ran away with someone. I think someone took her.”

“Stevie, I don’t think it’s worth…”

“I think my dad should’ve reported her missing, you know? Your dad would’ve reported you missing if that happened.”

“Maybe,” I sighed. He looked lost, so I awkwardly patted his back. “Stevie, maybe it’s better to assume she ran off with someone and is okay, rather than thinking she got taken and isn’t.”

“Do you think she’s dead?”

Probably.
“I don’t know.”