What a Bear Needs (The Wild Side) (8 page)

How was this behavior okay?! How was it normal and right? How was it that he hadn’t run away by now, never looking back? He should’ve. If he knew what was good for him, he would. And yet, the grizzly seemed determined to barrel through every defense she had. Even standing in the midst of what was essentially a mammalian homicide, he hadn’t batted a lash; had simply complimented her and tried to make her laugh.

He couldn’t keep doing this, couldn’t keep endearing himself to her because it would be liked ripping the Band-Aid off a fresh wound and pouring cayenne into it when she left. And she
would
leave; she had no choice. This simply confirmed it. The longer she stayed, the more of a danger she would become. What if it wasn’t simply wild game next time? What if it was a pack mate or, gods forbid, one of the pups?

Cree stopped mid-step and felt as though the weight of a polar was suddenly on her chest. The mere thought of doing to one of her people what her mother had done to her father…

“Cree?” Maddox softly called to the right of her.

She swallowed, hysteria causing a noise to bubble up from the back of her throat. This couldn’t happen again. The cycle couldn’t repeat itself. She couldn’t become Nuna and Maddox couldn’t,
wouldn’t,
become Hassun. Suddenly she was unable to breathe.

“Cree?” he said again, reaching out.

His hand slid against her shoulder and she jerked away. “Don’t.” Thinking when he touched her was an impossibility and right now she
needed
to think. She needed to feel something other than fucking insane.

“Hey,” Maddox prodded. “We were friends five minutes ago remember? I was talking to you about my dabbling in BDSM with my freaky genetic add on and—”

“Stop,” she barked, stepping away from him. “Just. Stop.”

“What—?”

“I just…I need…” Cree took off running. It was better than losing her shit in front of him. It was better than crying. It was better than this endless chasm of questions and fear that stayed with her night and day. She ignored Maddox when he called her name, ignored the fact that what she was doing was absolutely ridiculous because at the moment, running was her only option.

***

His current choice of action could result in a numerous injuries but it was completely and totally necessary. Cree had run as though the very gates of hell were opening beneath her feet. But it was the frenzy in her movements that shook him to his core. Her words came out in bursts and fits in between gasps and for a second Maddox thought she’d pass out.

Sighing, he lifted his hand to the door before him and knocked. It was his only hope in a situation that had gone from having so much potential to being depressing. Maddox hadn’t followed after Cree because something told him she needed to be alone for a bit. That didn’t mean she’d remain that way. As soon as he found out what the fuck was happening, her door would be the next one he knocked on; off the hinges or not.

The heavy wood beneath his knuckles jerked open and he found himself staring at features that were very close to his own in appearance. “I need to talk to Fal.”

Ransom blinked, chuffed, and then slammed the door in his face.

Seeing as how he’d been expecting that, he shouted, “Fallon, if my brother hasn’t tied you to the bed as of yet this morning, I need to talk to you!”

Snarls, barks and short roars along with the sound of furniture moving could be heard. Then there was, “What did I tell you about being rude to early morning company?!”

“That isn’t company!
That
is a nuisance! A pain in my ass! Something that makes my knee pits itch!”

At his sibling’s bellowed response, Maddox yelled, “I resent that.”

“Shut up!” Ransom raged.

“Rude!”

There were a few more growls and definite chuffs before the front door = finally swung back open. Fallon stood on the other side with a football jersey just about touching her knees. She jerked her head to the right, gruffly directing, “In”

Maddox stepped across the threshold and followed as she shuffled to the kitchen. When she pointed to a seat at the breakfast nook he took it. They didn’t speak as she moved about and started the coffee maker. Particularly because the second he opened his mouth to say a word she held up a finger, shook her head slowly and pointed to the pot.

“Not until it’s full,” she commanded.

He sat back, listening as the small machine went to work. The second it was done, she pulled the pot, a few mugs and sat them on the table before walking out of the kitchen. There were murmurs along with grumbles in the next room and what most assuredly sounded like a death threat before she came back with Ransom in tow.

The older bear took a seat at the nook and Fallon cozied up to his side. Finally settled in, she regally motioned to Maddox. “Begin.”

Ransom snorted. “Someone’s feeling haughty now that they have a cappuccino machine.”

“Don’t mock me in front of guests, mate,” she quietly warned. “
You
have to stay behind when Maddox leaves. Remember that.” Smirking as Ransom grew quiet, she nodded to Maddox.

He leaned forward. “What—in all fuck—is wrong with Cree?”

His brother burst out laughing and Fallon paused mid-sip, eyes narrowed and beginning to glow faintly around the irises.

Waving his hands, he rushed out, “I’m not insulting her. This is a serious question. Is she sick?”

Ransom laughed louder.

Glare canine gold now, Fallon coldly assessed him from the opposite side of the small table.

Maddox pounded a fist on the surface. “Shut. Up!”

The other grizzly stopped, blinking wide. He clearly saw the frustration on his younger brother’s face and decided to keep any further amusement to himself.

Sucking in a deep breath, Maddox sat back and focused solely on the only woman who could help him. “As every day passes something changes in her, Fallon. She’s different;
noticeably
different. She separates herself, rarely interacts with the pack anymore. Her avoidance of me isn’t anything new but I’m beginning to get the feeling that it has a lot more to do with her than what Anoki has referred to as my low brow and dead eyes.”

Ransom snorted.

Fallon’s eyes shifted back and she rolled her mug between her palms. “She’s having a bad transitional phase.”

She wouldn’t meet his gaze and he knew it was because she was giving him half-truths. He and Fallon had developed a friendship over the last year, a connection that was a bit different. As someone who’d never had a sister, the fact that he could get along with his brother’s mate pleased him. She was perfect for Ransom and vice versa. The same way Cree was perfect for
him
.

“Fal,” he breathed, nearly pleading. “I found her asleep at least a mile away from the lodge this morning.”

Her stare slowly rose, a question in it.

“She hunted but it was more so like—”

“—she’d ravaged,” the she-wolf finished.

“Yes
,”
Maddox replied. “When she opened her eyes I wasn’t looking at Cree. This was…something else. Something dangerous. I decided not to mention it because I knew she’d bolt. The only thing that stopped
her from bolting to begin with was the fact that she was naked but my question is, why didn’t she just shift and trot back to the lodge? Why doesn’t she shift anymore, Fallon?”

Clearing his throat, Ransom nudged his mate with his shoulder and the pair locked eyes. Maddox knew then that they were privy to what was happening to Cree. “I think you should tell him, baby.”

She chewed her lip. “Ransom—”

Her mate shook his head. “No.
Tell him.”

“Fallon?” Maddox coaxed.

The she-wolf met his stare.

“Please
?”

Exhaling, she closed her eyes and whispered, “What I’m about to say doesn’t spread to the rest of the pack
ever.
Unless explicitly given permission by Cree, you say nothing
to anyone else.”

And he knew then that this was much deeper than he’d originally thought; much, much
deeper.

Six

Fallon watched from the window above the kitchen sink as Maddox walked down the path that led to Cree’s cabin, head low, hands stuffed into his pockets. He’d listened to every word without interruption, without judgment, and without comment. Stoically he’d sat and taken in every detail that she could give him and then when she was done, he’d gotten up and silently left.

Now here she stood, wondering what would happen next. Ransom’s arms encircled her waist, his chin coming to rest on her head as his fingers played with where her engagement ring now sat. An engagement ring that she hadn’t even gotten the opportunity to show Maddox—the brother she’d always wanted—before they found themselves spiraling.

“You did the right thing,” her mate murmured.

“Did I?”

His hands ran across her shoulders and forearms. “You can trust him, baby. Trust him to love her the way you trust me to love
you
.”

She closed her eyes, thought about the steely resolve in Maddox’s gaze. She’d seen no disgust there, no repulsion. There was an eerie calm and some sadness but no condemnation. Fallon could only pray that it remained that way.

Turning in Ransom’s hold, she put her head to his chest and wrapped her arms about his waist. “In that case, I trust him with everything that I have.”

He didn’t speak but the kiss he dropped on her hair was more than enough.

***

She was the worst kind of coward, couldn’t even face any of the people she loved the most for fear of too many questions and too many lingering stares; so she’d run. Cree had left a note for Anoki in the main office to take over for her activity sheet and she’d gotten as far away from the lodge as possible without leaving Colorado completely.

It really hadn’t mattered though. The further she drove up the mountain side the higher her anxieties mounted. Maddox hadn’t come after her. Cree couldn’t claim that she wouldn’t have done the same after what he’d seen. No amount of deductive reasoning could make sense of how he’d discovered her. No amount of deductive reasoning could erase the way he’d looked at her when she’d taken off. So what did she do now? Fallon wouldn’t let her leave; that much Cree knew and it didn’t matter how many times she outlined the facts for her friend; the answer would still be
no.

There was a fork in the road for Cree. What path she took was irrelevant because she’d lose either way. However, losing was a far better option than opening her eyes another morning and finding herself at the head of something ugly, something she couldn’t take back. She didn’t see any other way. Cree had to leave and it had to be now.

It was well after 2 a.m. when she slipped back onto lodge grounds. Shoulders low, she took the trail less followed to pack quarters and wove in and out of trees and underbrush until she finally reached her cabin. Creeping up the back stairs, Cree reached the door that would lead into her kitchen but before she could even twist the knob it was jerked open. Her breath caught at the sight of Maddox standing across the threshold, sweatpants hanging low on his lean hips, his hair mussed and his feet bare.

“Oh good,” he rumbled casually. “You’re home.”

“Maddox—” Cree’s words were cut short when he reached across, gripped the front of her sweatshirt and yanked her into the cabin, slamming the door after her.

Without missing a beat, he kept that hand where it was and made his way through her home, only stopping once they reached the sitting room. He waved towards the previously damaged front door. “Fixed it.” With that said, he moved her about as though she weighed no more than a toy poodle and placed her on the couch. He then took a seat on the coffee table after moving an empty plate and glass along with a notebook out of the way.

Cree’s brows shot upwards. “Exactly how long have you been here?”

He leaned forward, placed his elbows to his thighs and answered, “A while.”

And he looked pretty fucking comfortable! “You—”

“We’re not discussing me,” he interrupted smoothly. “We’re discussing
you.”
His gaze narrowed. “All
of you.”

It was the tone of his voice, his intent stare, which told her he knew. He knew
everything.
Shards of ice slid through Cree’s veins. “Fallon,” she whispered.

He nodded. “Fallon.”

She went to stand but his hands smacked against her thighs and sent her tumbling back onto the couch. “No,” Maddox growled. “No more running. No more fucking
hiding
from me. You don’t get to do that anymore. You don’t get to ignore my existence out of some misguided sense of duty.”

Her laugh came out on a hard bark of bitterness. “Misguided sense of duty? Did you practice this speech in your head, Maddox?”

A muscle worked in his jaw. “I know about your gift and—”

“Gift!” she roared.
“You think that this is a fucking gift?!”

Maddox looked at a loss.

Cree wrapped her arms about herself, her lips curving in a sharp smile as she shook her head. “A gift,” she said softly. “You really believe that this thing—this cancer
—
is a gift.” Her eyes rose and the sadness she saw in his gaze made rage bubble up beneath her skin. “It’s a
disease,
Maddox. A sickness
that erodes your soul. You can never be certain that every thought belongs to solely you. There are desires, wants, compulsions
that move you to do things that you believed were unfathomable at one point and time; your body is no longer your own!” she finished on a shout. “This is not a gift! It’s death!
It’s something that destroys everything you love and all you can do is sit back and watch it happen. You can pull, you can yank, you can scream and howl and roar but you don’t belong to yourself, you belong to every. Single. One. Of. Them.”

She rocked, pulling at her hair. “There are days when I avoid the mirror because I know that if I peek, I won’t see me, I’ll see
them.
There are days that I can’t even remember a conversation or an event that happened minutes after it’s occurred because it wasn’t
me
.
”
Agitation began in her chest and spread outwards. “I change, I move differently, I look at the world
differently and when something runs past my line of sight I’m liable to stare at it as though it’s prey rather than another living being. All because my humanity is dying
.
It disappears more and more each minute and I can feel
it. There are too many of them. Too many thoughts, too many needs, too many emotions and they’re all festering
.
My empathy is being feasted on, my compassion has been shredded and my loyalty is being tested. This will
never
be a gift.”