Page 13

R eality is a cold-eyed motherfucker.

Waking up with my fully sated, thoroughly wrecked, and gloriously naked mate curled in my arms should’ve been the best damn morning of my life.

It would’ve been, too.

If it hadn’t been for the small detail of my front door getting blown open by a tiny, unhinged Bear cub.

I was deep in the kind of sleep that only comes after mind-blowing sex and the emotional whiplash of finding your fated mate, when the sound of complete and utter destruction shattered the peace like a damn bomb went off.

Wood splintering.

Something crashing.

A very distinct bleating.

Arliss stirred, blinking sleepily and looking adorable as hell with her hair all over the place and my shirt hanging off one shoulder.

“What the hell was that?” she mumbled, already halfway out of bed before I could stop her.

“Hang on. Wait a sec, Arliss, just let me?—”

Too late.

She was gone, barreling toward the stairs like a curious little woodland creature investigating a horror movie noise.

And fuck me if that wasn’t hot.

I grabbed my pants and followed, barefoot and bleary-eyed, only to hear something I never want to hear.

“AGHHHHH!”

Her scream damn near shattered every piece of glass in my cabin.

I winced, hand going up to my ear as I hit the bottom of the stairs, and immediately understood why she was screaming.

Rosie Posie, the aforementioned Bear cub menace, had broken into my house with all the chaotic energy of a sugar-high toddler.

And she didn’t come alone.

Oh no.

She brought a fucking entourage.

Three goats, one of which had a bell tied to its neck that jingled every time it head-butted my coffee table.

Two ducks, already waddling through the kitchen like they paid rent.

And following them like a one-bear wrecking ball of doom was Dante, in full Grizzly form, roaring loud enough to rattle my damn windows.

Arliss had gone pale, eyes wide with sheer panic as she stumbled back against the stair railing, clutching my shirt closed around her.

“Oh my God! Kian, call the police! The animals have gone crazy!”

I barely registered the words, too distracted by the fact that while she was clutching the front of my shirt like her life depended on it, her entire ass was out, glowing like a full moon in my living room.

“Fuck,” I muttered, dragging a hand down my face. “Don’t worry about them. Stay here.”

I tossed the throw blanket from the couch in her direction, more for my sanity than her modesty, though let’s be real, that blanket didn’t do shit.

Then I dove into the fray like it was just another Tuesday.

“Dolly Mae—no! Not the lamp!”

Or maybe that was Dolly Sue?

Hard to tell with the twins.

Either way, I grabbed her by the horns and started hauling her backward toward the door while avoiding the duck that was now pecking at my foot like it had a vendetta.

“Hey! Stop that! That’s my couch, dammit!” I shouted at the goats currently chewing on the armrest.

Dante’s Bear gave me a look.

A full-body snort and a sarcastic head tilt that clearly said, You invited her to stay the night. This is your fault.

I glared at him.

“Don’t you judge me, you overgrown throw rug.”

And then Rosie— the pint-sized chaos goblin —climbed my goddamn curtains.

She scrambled up like a pro, leaving a shredded path behind her, and I was too stunned to do anything but shout.

“Rosie! Get down from there! That curtain rod won’t hold you—wait, no! Not the?—”

She leapt.

From the curtains.

To the chandelier.

“Oh my fuck! Kian! What the hell is happening?!”

My sweet mate is clinging to the blanket like it's a life raft, wide-eyed and barefoot on my stairs, looking like she just stumbled out of a post-apocalyptic animal sanctuary.

Not too far off, actually.

“Is that a bear?” Arliss asks and swallows loudly, “is that another bear?! What the shit is going on?”

Her voice squeaks halfway through the sentence, and I swear I see her soul leave her body for a second.

She lets out this tiny, distressed whimper, and I can feel her inching toward full-blown panic.

And honestly? Same.

But for a completely different reason.

Oh fuck. I fucked up.

“Don’t worry! It’s all okay!” I shout, tripping over a throw pillow as I valiantly attempt to herd the ducks toward the front door.

One of them hisses at me.

Hisses.

Like it’s possessed.

And for a moment, I wish I was a carnivore.

Just as I finally get the damn door open, two more goats trot inside like they own the place.

Fuuuuuuuck me.

“It’s all okay!” I repeat myself, because what the fuck am I supposed to say?

Sorry babe, I forgot to tell you I live and work with a bunch of crazy ass Shifters. Oh yeah, and I am one, too.

Not good? No, I didn’t think so either.

“Okay?!” Arliss barks. “How is this okay?”

“It’s fine! Everything is under control!” I grunt, while a goat climbs on my coffee table and starts chewing on my favorite book like it’s a freaking appetizer.

“Just go back upstairs, please. I’ll get everyone out and it’ll be, um, normal again.”

Of course, just then, Dolly Sue head butts me right in the nut sack and I fall to my knees, groaning.

“What about this is normal, Kian?”

Arliss is pointing now. Up. Toward the ceiling.

I follow her gaze and— yep .

Still a Bear cub.

Still swinging from my chandelier.

Still Rosie.

I run a hand down my face and focus on standing up without permanently damaging my means to sire young.

“Well, uh, maybe we should take a minute to define ‘normal’.”

That’s when Dante’s Bear lets out this low snort, which is clearly the asshole ursine version of bro, you're screwed .

He seems content with watching me fuck this up.

At least, that is until he notices his kid is now part of my light fixture.

Then he goes full Papa Bear mode and roars loud enough to rattle my teeth.

Arliss screams.

Rosie screams, er , roars.

I scream— internally, but it counts.

Then I jump over the couch like I’m in the goddamn Olympics, trying to get to Arliss before she thinks I’m part of a weird woodland cult.

But before I can get more than three words out, I hear it .

It’s the distinct, visceral sound of shifting.

Bones crack.

Muscles stretch and snap.

Magic electrifies in the air.

It’s the stuff of nightmares, unless you’re used to it. Which, you know Arliss isn’t.

Then bam. Standing in the middle of my living room like it’s just another goddamn Tuesday?

A fully naked Dante.

Not even a hint of shame.

Just dives and scoops Rosie right out of the air like it’s the most normal thing in the world to go from full Grizzly to full on naked man inside my fucking cabin.

“Gotcha! Now, shift back,” he says firmly.

Rosie gives a shimmer and a shiver, and suddenly, we have a tiny naked child.

Who immediately starts wailing.

Not because she’s hurt.

Nope.

Because her Dad used the you’re in trouble voice.

“Hush, Rosie Posie,” Dante sighs, rocking her a little and grabbing a couple of towels from the basket of clean laundry I haven’t had a chance to fold yet.

He hands one to Rosie who is now sitting on the couch. And wraps the other around his waist.

“No crying. But you owe Uncle Kian and his guest an apology.”

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

My stomach drops.

My guest.

My half naked, very human, very not in the know guest who is technically my mate.

Rosie sniffles, bottom lip trembling like the world’s tiniest hurricane.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Kian! I just wanted to play!”

She looks like a wet-eyed cherub who just got caught with a box of kittens under the porch, and obviously I can’t be mad at her.

I’m not a monster.

But then Arliss clears her throat.

I turn slowly.

She’s still wrapped in my blanket, standing frozen on the stairs like she’s trying to solve a murder mystery, her brain running a million miles an hour.

Her eyes flick from Dante’s semi-naked form, to the cub, who is back in his arms, to the goats on my couch, to the duck chewing on my shoe by the door, and finally, back to me.

To her lover.

To the man she just slept with.

To the idiot who said “go back upstairs, everything’s fine” while a damn Bear Shifter swung from his ceiling fan.

She blinks.

Then she says, her voice way too calm to be actually calm, “Kian, um, can you maybe take me to the Urgent Care clinic?”

I blink.

“What? Why? Are you hurt?”

Panic flares in my chest as I move toward her, but she lifts a hand like she’s conducting an invisible orchestra of nope.

“Actually, on second thought, the hospital might be better.”

Now I’m alarmed.

Full-body, ears ringing, pulse pounding, alarmed.

“Arliss! Where are you hurt?”

She doesn’t look hurt.

She looks like someone who's just seen a unicorn commit arson and isn’t sure if she should be amazed or dial 911.

“I’m not hurt, Kian.”

She swallows, eyes wild, voice shaking.

“I just, I think I might need an emergency psychiatric evaluation or, I don’t know, like ten thousand Xanax and maybe a support llama?”

And that’s when it hits me.

Oh. Shit.

This is my fault.

Completely.

Totally.

Disastrously my fault.

I need to start talking.

Now. Before she ends up in a padded room. Or worse, leaves .

“Arliss, you’re not crazy,” I say gently, ignoring the very loud, very obvious sounds of Dante tiptoeing, aka stomping like the giant fuck he is , out of the house with Rosie in his arms like this is some kind of naked Bear retreat.

I’ll get that furry bastard back later. With interest.

But right now?

I’ve got a wide-eyed, blanket-wrapped, post-orgasmic woman standing in my living room thinking she’s lost her damn mind.

My mate, who has no idea she’s my mate.

Who has no clue I’m a Shifter.

Who just watched a Bear turn into a man and a child screaming about just playing with goats and ducks and shit.

Fuuuuuuuck.

This is so bad.

She stares at me like I’m about to pull off a mask and reveal I’m an alien, too.

“Bears don’t turn into people, Kian,” she whispers.

Her voice is so small, it cracks something open in my chest.

And her eyes. Her big, heart-wrecking, crystalline blue eyes are filled with disbelief and a whole lot of what the actual fuck.

“Actually, Mo Chroí ,” I say softly, stepping closer. “Sometimes, they do.”

I shrug.

Her mouth opens.

Closes.

Then it opens again.

Like her brain is rebooting in real time.

“See, Shifters exist,” I continue, watching her like she might bolt. “Dual-natured creatures exist. But they are just people. People who share their bodies and souls with an animal or cryptid counterpart. We walk among humans. Always have.”

She just stares at me like I’m trying to explain calculus in interpretive dance.

“What? Since when?” she asks, voice low and shaky, like maybe if she whispers it, it’ll make more sense.

“Since always. Some say even longer than humans. We’ve just gotten really good at hiding.”

“We? You said we twice now.”

Her gaze narrows. “So, you mean you ?”

Her voice drops to a whisper. “Are you a Bear too?”

“No,” I say with a small smile. “I’m a Shifter, yeah, but I’m not a Bear. I’m a Bull Shifter.”

She blinks.

Processes.

“But we, I mean, last night, you and I, and you bit me!”

Her hands fly up to her neck.

“Oh my God. Am I gonna turn into a Bull? Am I gonna start mooing? What do I even eat now— grass ?!”

“No! What? No, Arliss, you’re not gonna turn into a Bull.”

I have to fight a laugh. Not because it’s funny, but because she looks ready to Google all sorts of nonsense. Like do cows need birth control or can cows eat cheeseburgers?

“First off, Bulls are male. Second, you can’t ‘make’ someone a Shifter. It doesn’t really work like that. Especially not with my kind. It’s complicated, Mo Chroí .”

She crosses her arms, blanket slipping a little and doing very distracting things to my focus.

“Complicated how? And what does that mean? Mo Chroí ?”

I sigh and scrub my hand down my face.

“Far as I know, Bull Shifters do not create Shifters through their bite.”

“Why did you even do that in the first place?”

“What? Bite you? Ah, well, I bit you because you belong to me. I mean, not in a creepy way! Not in a you’re my property way, but, dammit, I mean we belong together , er, to each other.”

Her brows shoot up like they’ve just hit escape velocity.

I lift my hands.

“Okay, listen. You’re smart, you’re gorgeous, and you’re absolutely terrifying when you’re pissed off, but this isn’t a pickup line, I swear. We’re what my kind calls?—”

“Let me guess.” She narrows her eyes. “Fated Mates?”

I blink. “Yes?”

She sighs, dramatically. “Of course. Of freaking course.”

Then, after a long pause where she glares at me like I just admitted I eat puppies, she mutters, “Can’t even have a one-night stand without someone biting me and declaring supernatural marriage like that sexy Werewolf novel I read with that Book Club I just joined! My life is so weird.”

She huffs, and I swear, it’s like she’s not even talking to me.

But despite everything— the panic, the danger, the naked toddler formerly known as a Bear cub —I laugh.

Because she’s here.

She hasn’t run.

Not yet.

She’s processing out loud. Of course, she is doing it in a way that is completely off kilter and totally, gloriously Arliss.

But for a guy like me?

That’s a damn miracle.

And I’ll take it.

I’ll hold on to it.

With both fucking hands.