Page 3 of Claimed by the Grumpy Shifter (Curvy Wives of Cedar Falls #5)

She waved at me.

I've been standing at this window for twenty minutes, replaying that simple gesture like it's the key to unlocking the universe.

The way her hand lifted hesitantly, the small smile that curved her lips before she disappeared into her building…

Everything it's burned into my retinas, a moment of connection that my bear has seized on like proof of mutual interest.

Which it probably isn't. She was probably just being polite to her weird new neighbor who has the subtlety of a stalker.

Damn it. I am stalking her, aren't I?

I drag both hands through my hair and force myself to step back from the window.

This is exactly the kind of behavior that got me in trouble before, the kind of obsessive focus that made my commanding officers nervous and my teammates give me a wide berth.

The bear doesn't understand boundaries, doesn't comprehend the delicate dance of human courtship. It sees what it wants and takes it.

But I can't take Christine. She's not a target or an objective or a problem to be solved with brute force.

She's a woman—a beautiful, innocent woman who smells like roses and handles crying babies like she was born to be a mother.

She deserves better than a broken-down soldier who can barely keep his animal under control.

The bear snarls at that thought, rejecting it completely.

In its primitive logic, she's ours regardless of what I think I deserve.

The mate bond doesn't care about my fucked-up psychology or my tendency to destroy everything I touch.

It just knows that she's the missing piece of our soul, and it will do whatever it takes to claim her.

But this isn't the wilderness. This is a small human town where supernatural creatures are the stuff of fairy tales, where a man can't just announce that he's found his fated mate without ending up in a padded room.

The irony isn't lost on me. I came to Cedar Falls to hide from what I am, to find a place where I could blend in and suppress the part of me that's caused nothing but trouble. Instead, I've found the one thing guaranteed to bring my bear roaring to the surface.

My mate.

The knowledge sits in my bones, undeniable and absolute. I've heard the stories, dismissed them as folklore, but there's no mistaking the recognition that slammed into me the moment I saw her. The instant certainty. The possessiveness that goes bone-deep and shows no signs of fading.

She's mine. Every cell in my body knows it, even if my rational mind keeps trying to argue.

I move back to the window, drawn by a compulsion I can't fight. Christine is in her apartment now, visible through the sheer curtains that cover her kitchen window. She's making dinner, moving around her small kitchen with an unconscious grace that makes my chest tight with longing.

She's changed clothes. Soft leggings that hug her curves and an oversized sweater that slides off one shoulder, revealing the elegant line of her collarbone. She's barefoot, her honey-blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun that makes me want to tug it loose and run my fingers through the strands.

I want to be in that kitchen with her. I want to come home to her every night, want to wrap my arms around her from behind while she cooks, want to make her laugh and moan and sigh my name in the darkness.

I want everything I've never let myself want before.

She moves to the stove, stirring something in a pot, and I can almost smell whatever she's cooking from here. My enhanced senses pick up the faint aroma of garlic and herbs.

When she turns toward the window, our eyes meet across the distance. Even through the glass and the gathering twilight, I can see the flush that colors her cheeks. She doesn't look away, doesn't close the curtains or pretend she doesn't see me watching.

Instead, she lifts her hand to her throat, her fingers tracing the line of her collarbone in a gesture that's probably unconscious but makes my blood sing with want. The bear pushes against my control, demanding action. It wants to cross the street, break down her door, claim what belongs to us.

The urge is so strong that I have to brace my hands against the window frame to keep from moving. The wood groans under my grip, and I force myself to ease off before I leave finger-shaped dents that would be hard to explain to my landlord.

She's still watching me, her blue eyes wide and curious. There's no fear in her expression, no revulsion at being observed. If anything, she looks... intrigued. Like she's trying to solve a puzzle and I'm the missing piece.

That's closer to the truth than she knows.

I think about this afternoon, the way she lit up when I walked into her shop. The electricity that crackled between us when we shook hands. The way she blushed when I said she wasn't forgettable. She felt it too, this pull between us, even if she doesn't understand what it means.

Humans aren't supposed to feel the mate bond, but sometimes they do. Sometimes the connection is strong enough to transcend species, to make them recognize their other half even when logic says it's impossible.

The thought gives me hope, dangerous as it is.

My reflection stares back at me from the window glass—scarred, brooding, intense to the point of intimidation. I look like exactly what I am: a predator. A killer. Someone who's spent years learning how to hurt people in the most efficient ways possible.

What the hell am I thinking? Christine is sunshine and flowers and everything good in the world.

She deserves someone who can give her the white picket fence and babies and happily ever after she's probably dreaming of.

Not a broken soldier who turns into a six-hundred-pound killing machine when he loses control.

But even as I think it, I know I'm not walking away. Can't walk away. The bear has decided, and when a bear decides something, that's the end of the discussion. She's mine, and I'll spend the rest of my life proving I'm worthy of her if that's what it takes.

The question is how to approach this without terrifying her. How to court her properly instead of simply taking what I want.

Christine moves away from the window, disappearing deeper into her apartment, but her scent lingers in the air. I breathe it in like a drug, letting it calm the restless energy that's been building since I first saw her.

Tomorrow, I decide. Tomorrow I'll find a reason to see her again, to spend more time in her presence and let whatever's happening between us develop naturally. I'll be patient. Careful. I'll prove to both of us that I'm more than just an animal driven by instinct.

I'll figure out how to be the man she deserves.

But tonight, I'll stand guard at this window and watch over what's mine. Because that's what bears do. We protect what we love, even when they don't know they're loved yet.

The hours pass slowly. I see her moving around her apartment, a glimpse here and there through the windows.

She eats dinner alone at a small table, reads a book curled up on her couch, moves through her evening routine with the kind of solitary contentment that speaks to someone who's used to being alone.

But she shouldn't be alone. She should have someone to cook for, someone to curl up with, someone to make her laugh and hold her when she's sad. She should have a family, babies to love and nurture with all that maternal instinct I saw when she held little Emma.

She should have me.

I don't know how this is going to work, don't know how I'm going to bridge the gap between what I am and what she needs. But I know I'm going to try.

Because for the first time in my life, I've found something worth fighting for that isn't about duty or orders or survival.

I've found home.

And I'm not letting it go.