BEARly Mated to the Grizzly (Bear Clan 2)

And then I scented her, stronger, more potent. She was outside.

She was trying to run from me.

I ran around the deck, seeing her making her way toward her car.

I won’t hurt you.

I’ll protect you.

You’re mine.

She was fast, but not as fast as I was. I growled out low, but it wasn’t one of danger, but one of need, one of protection. I’d make sure she was safe, make sure she knew no one would ever hurt her, especially me.

I was almost to her.

And then she turned around, a knife in her hand, her arm swinging out as she screamed. The blade landed in my front leg and I roared in pain, moving backward, falling to my side. The shift couldn’t hold with the pain, couldn’t keep me in my bear form. I felt myself start to turn, my human side rising up.

In a matter of seconds, I lay naked on the ground, the blade still lodged in my bicep, blood dripping down my arm. But that pain vanished as I looked into her face, saw that fear morph into shock, then into regret. She covered her mouth with her hands, took a step toward me, but then shook her head and moved two steps back.

“What the fuck?” she finally said, her hands now by her side, the scent of her anger clear. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Now it was my turn to feel my eyes widen, to feel my eyebrows lift up in surprise.

My mate had fire in her and that turned me on even more.

“What the fuck am I doing?” I pulled myself up, pleased that she looked down my body, her eyes widening when she noticed the massive erection I sported. But there was no use in hiding it, no trying to stop it. The fucker was rock hard and would stay that way until I finally made her mine.

“Yeah,” she huffed out.

“I’m the one who’s got the kitchen knife lodged in my arm.” I pointed to the knife to make my point.

“I could have easily stabbed you somewhere else.” She lifted a perfectly arched brow and crossed her arms over her chest. “Lucky, is what you are.” Her voice dripped with anger. “I ask again, what the fuck are you doing charging at me like you’re about to take me down?”

Because you’re mine.

I kept that to myself.

The wind picked up again and I inhaled deeply, smelling her anger, the lingering scent of her fear. But underneath all of that I smelled her realization that I wasn’t just a bear shifter, that I wasn’t just a random man. She knew who I was, or at least suspected something.

“Do you normally chase women out of their house in full shifter mode, scaring the shit out of them, and then having the balls to make it seem like it’s their fault you got stabbed?”

I couldn’t help but grin. Here I was, bleeding from this wound, the knife still lodged in my arm, but I felt nothing but happiness, nothing but joy.

I’d been searching for her, dreaming about her my entire life. The one person to make me whole, to complete me, and here she was standing in front of me, giving me the third degree because I’d scared the shit out of her.

God, it felt incredible having her so close, smelling the scent of mine fill the air.

“Well, you’ve nothing to say for yourself? You have nothing to say for scaring the shit out of me, in explaining why you were all but destroying the back door trying to get inside?”

All of a sudden, I felt sheepish and I lifted my hand, the one not attached to the arm with the blade in it, and rubbed the back of my neck. I looked behind me toward the cabin, knew that my actions had been wild and crazed. But if she knew why I’d acted like that, she’d understand.

I faced her again, noticing that her focus was right on my cock, the one that was still hard as steel and pointing straight at her from between my thighs. I smirked, clearing my throat to get her attention. I wanted her to know I’d caught her staring.

I inwardly groaned because it pleased me to no end.

She snapped her focus up, our gazes clashing. Her cheeks turned this pretty shade of pink, and she cleared her throat. I had embarrassed her because she’d been caught checking out my dick.

“I’m sorry about the door.” I wanted to move toward her but forced myself to stay still, to not scare her any more than I had. “I’ll fix it.”

She snorted and looked less than satisfied.