“Turned?” Paisley echoed blankly.
“Bitten and made into a shifter.” Anger tightened Grizzly Bear Man’s ruggedly handsome features. “Do you know the name of the person who did it? I could take care of them for you.”
Paisley stared at him. His anger was on her behalf? No one ever got mad because someone else wronged her. At least, not since Mom had died when Paisley was ten. No one in the long string of foster homes she’d lived in since that had cared about her for any reason but the check they’d get for having her.
“I don’t remember anyone biting me,” she replied. “I’ve always been able to become a cat. Mom used to tell me how funny I looked as a kitten peeking out from a pile of baby clothes.”
Neither man commented, but she noticed the sympathy that crossed their faces at the used to. She spoke hastily, eager to change the subject. She hated pity, and she hated thinking about how Mom had died. “Who are you guys? And do you mind not pinning me to the bed?”
“Oops, sorry.” Grizzly Bear Man released his hold.
Paisley sat up, clutching the blankets tight around her.
“I’m Eli Sterling,” said Grizzly Bear Man.
“And I’m Jackson Ford,” said Black Bear Man.
They both offered her their hands. She ignored them, folding her arms tight across her chest. “I’m not telling you my name.”
“It?
?s Paisley Clark,” said Eli.
She whipped her head around to stare at him. “How did you know?”
“I’m good at finding things out,” said Jackson. Quickly, he added, “But we’re not going to call the cops on you, or use it against you. I swear!”
Paisley didn’t see any reason to trust his word. On the other hand, the cops weren’t there yet. She decided to sit tight and see what she could find out. Paisley had been too overwhelmed before to get a good look at the men, so she started with that.
Eli the were-grizzly bear had light brown hair the color of his bear’s fur, in a once-short cut that was growing out shaggy. He was big and ripped, bulging with muscle everywhere she looked. But his magnificent body was marked by a number of scars. One was pink and new-looking, the size of a quarter and right over his heart.
The knuckles of Eli’s big hands were callused and scarred: the mark of a brawler or a martial artist. His ramrod-straight posture made her guess that he was current or newly-ex military. Between his size, his scars, and his rugged features, he would have been intimidating, if it hadn’t been for the surprisingly gentle look in eyes as blue as a summer sky.
Jackson the were-black bear was also handsome, with thick, curling black hair and dark brown eyes, but in a more polished way. Eli looked like he normally wore a uniform, but Jackson would have been at home in a three-piece suit. He might be a long-distance runner or a swimmer, with his height, his broad shoulders, and his lean muscle. But Paisley guessed that his job involved thinking, not punching. Even nude, he had the air of a high-powered lawyer or businessman or tech genius.
The skin that covered Jackson’s wiry muscles was smooth as brown silk, without a mark on it. His fingers were long and deft, his eyes were bright with intelligence, and his mouth looked like he spent a lot of time laughing.
Paisley looked from Jackson to Eli, and from Eli to Jackson. Two men who could turn into bears. Two men of completely different types, but both handsome and sexy. Two sizzling hot, naked men.
***