Page 3 of Her Beary Spicy Valentine (Welcome to Bear Mountain #2)

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for whom?

12 hours later

takoda

A nest. My bear had built a nest. Blankets and pillows were piled in the center of the den, arranged like a haphazard altar of soft things. But why? And for who?

For whom, not for who.

Zion’s voice echoed in my mind, as patient and exacting as ever. My maul father continued to correct my grammar—even though I hadn’t spoken to him since he stood by and let my mother exile his birth daughter and my womb twin, Mara, five years ago—just two years before she betrayed me by handing my legacy off to our little brother, then dying without ever telling me why.

Bitterness leached into the confusion swirling around my chest, the one friend I could always count on to show up no matter the circumstances.

I rubbed my temples, scanning the den for my shredded uniform. But there was nothing. No clothes, no clues. Just the nest, sitting there like a quiet accusation in the middle of the den that I’d refused to accept as a gift from Mak. My bear, apparently, had other ideas last night, though.

What the hell had happened here? I grabbed onto that question, holding it tight to keep my mind focused as I looked around for clues. But…nothing.

No memories. No smells. The only thing of use I could spot was a pair of Mak’s old work boots sitting near the stairs leading out of the den. They were at least two sizes too big—courtesy of my younger brother’s polar bear genetics—but I shoved my feet into them anyway. A fleece blanket draped around my shoulders was the best I could do to cover my nakedness. Fashion wasn’t a priority anyway. Just getting back to town.

I clomped up the stairs, exiting the den my human side still refused to accept as home. Even after that blond grizzly constable moved into the detachment timber log cabin with me, crowding the space with his oversized body and overeager personality, I hadn’t relented.

It was flurrying when I got outside, but bright sunlight lit up the snow-dusted trail, glaring off the pristine white landscape. Each step clunked awkwardly, the boots dragging through the cold powder, reminding me that it was easier to walk a fur-covered bear through the Ayaska Village than an underclothed human.

But I pressed on in my current form because, for the first time in my life, it felt like I couldn’t trust the animal inside of me.

Shifting wasn’t supposed to be random. My bear wasn’t supposed to—and never had—acted without me. Yet here I was, with no memory of the night before and a sinking feeling that something had gone wro?—

I stopped cold.

A motorcycle lay on its side in the middle of the trail, its massive bulk jarring against the softly falling snow.

Twisted handlebars and deep scratches told a story of violence. The Iron Claw MC logo, frosted over but unmistakable, gleamed on the side.

What the hell were those criminals doing in the Ayaska Village? The Iron Claw kept their distance from the rest of us, rarely crossing the boundary from Bear Mountain proper into the hidden town where most of my tribe lived—especially not in the dead of winter when everyone was sleeping. Yet here was one of their bikes, abandoned like a discarded toy.

Then I saw it: bright red dots staining the snow.

I crouched, tracing the edge of one crimson droplet with my finger. Its warmth was long gone, and much of the blood splatter had seeped into the snow, with a layer of morning frost covering the entire possible crime scene. Whatever had happened here wasn’t ancient history. But it had happened more than a few hours ago.

The wind shifted, and a waft of caramel and chocolate floated out of the forest, hitting my nose. And memories.

“Please… please don’t,” she whispered as I sniffed down her body.

She smelled so good, but her leg—it was broken. I had to help. Protect her.

“What are you doing? No... no... no!” She crossed her arm over her face, blocking the sight of it from me. She didn’t understand. I clamped my teeth down on her forearm, pulled it away from her head as she screamed, and then?—

The wind shifted before I could see her face, taking away the smell of chocolates filled with caramel. Cutting off the memories like a light switch flipped.

Who was she?

I stood back up, scanning the road as more questions piled up like snowdrifts, heavy and suffocating.

The bike?

The blood?

The Iron Claw MC?

The nest?

The missing memories?

But one question howled through my mind louder than the rest as I continued walking down the trail back into Bear Mountain proper.

What the hell happened last night?