Page 15 of Roaring Heat (Shifters of Redwood Rise #2)

ANABETH

T he words spark in the space between us, charged with tension so thick it practically hums against my skin. Each second stretches taut, heavy with meaning, vibrating like a live wire about to snap.

'What the hell are you, Beau Hayes?'

My question sparks like a live wire through the silence, not a whisper or a plea but a sharp-edged demand that slices through the tension between us.

I don’t fully understand why I ask it. Not yet.

But every nerve in my body screams that the answer matters.

That it’s a turning point I can’t walk back from.

Beau crouches in front of me, breathing hard.

My eyes lock on his, and for a long beat, I forget how to breathe.

A tightness grips my chest, not just from the adrenaline but from the look in his eyes.

They’re steady, unguarded, and laced with something that looks a lot like vulnerability.

My pulse stumbles, confused by the absence of fear.

I should be afraid. I should run. But all I feel is the magnetic pull of needing to understand.

Needing to know what this means, both for him and for me.

There's a deep stillness to him now that unsettles me more than the chaos of just a few moments ago. He isn't just catching his breath. He's gauging something, calculating with unnerving focus. Watching me with that unnerving steadiness that makes my skin buzz.

Part of me wants to scream, to laugh, to cry.

But instead, I stare back, heart thudding in my ears, knowing nothing will ever be the same.

The man who stood between me and a stampede.

The man who turned into a grizzly bear and turned back again like it was just another part of him.

Like it was normal. Like it was his truth.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t laugh it off or look away.

His steady gaze holds mine, even as the edges of his body tremble, his muscles twitching like they’re still caught in the echo of everything that just happened.

There's a rawness behind his eyes that steals my breath, a flicker of something deeper than adrenaline. Vulnerability lurks there, unexpected and disarming, in a man who’s done nothing but radiate power and control until now.

His voice is quiet. "I’m a shifter. A grizzly-shifter."

"No shit, Captain Obvious."

A pulse moves through me, sudden and jarring, like a spike of voltage that leaves my limbs tingling and my thoughts stumbling over themselves.

It rushes through my limbs like a current, jarring my balance and making my knees dig harder into the dirt.

My heart stutters, caught between denial and understanding.

It rings like truth, deep and echoing, even as my brain scrambles for logic to push it away.

"Being a 'shifter' is not a normal thing. You know that, right?"

Beau’s expression never wavers. "It is. Well, it is for my brothers and I."

"What about the others in Redwood Rise?" I ask, suddenly wondering just how widespread this phenomenon is.

"You saw it. You felt it. I didn’t want you to, at least not now. Hell, I was planning to tell you eventually. But I didn’t get the chance. It's not exactly easy to bring up in a conversation. That elk stampede forced my hand."

"So what, you’re some kind of magical creature out of a paranormal romance or bedtime story?" My voice rises before I can stop it. My hands shake, and I press them into the earth to stop the tremor. "This is nuts. This can't be real."

"It’s real. I promise you. I didn’t ask to be a shifter, Anabeth. I was born this way. My brothers and I have never been anything else."

I suck in a breath that tastes like panic and forest soil, biting into my lungs like cold air at high altitude and sticky against the back of my throat. My chest tightens with the weight of everything he just said, my pulse stuttering under the pressure of trying to make sense of the impossible.

"And the mist? The way it just... swallowed you whole and then poof dropped away leaving an enormous grizzly in your place? That’s part of it?"

He nods once. "That's how it happens. The shift within the mist. It’s ancient. Natural. It doesn't hurt, doesn’t break us. It’s just a change in our form. We retain our intelligence, memories, and even our humanity. It just alters our form."

"Clothes too, apparently," I mutter, remembering the full-frontal moment with a flush that burns all the way down to my ribs.

His grin appears suddenly, all sharp-edged mischief and smugness.

"You’re not the first person to be impressed," he says, his teasing tone light enough to ease the edge off the moment.

"Though usually, I’m not wearing pants when it happens.

" He pauses just long enough to make sure I catch the implication, then grins.

"Still, you can't blame a guy for making a lasting first impression. "

I blink at him, stunned silent for half a beat.

Then a laugh escapes me, sudden and bright, catching us both off guard, bubbling up from somewhere deep and frazzled.

I can’t help it. The pressure inside me snaps like a rubber band stretched too far.

It’s all too much—the bear, the mist, the nakedness, the talk of ley lines and ancient magic.

My brain scrambles for order, some mental shelf to throw this madness on so I can function without combusting.

"Okay," I say slowly, breath hitching on the exhale. "So you’re a grizzly-shifter..."

"Yep. Redwood Rise was built around our kind."

"All of you?"

He nods. "Yes, not all grizzlies, but all shifters. Shifters evolved on a parallel path between animals and humans. We're a kind of hybrid. The ley lines help to keep the balance, and we act as a kind of guardian."

"The ley lines." My brain latches onto something familiar, something I can quantify. "The geological anomalies I’ve been documenting. The magnetism, the compass interference, the wildlife behavior. That’s all connected?"

"More than connected. The ley lines are alive in their own strange, pulsing rhythm.

They're not just conduits of energy. They're part of the ecosystem, reacting like a living organism to changes around them.

When one of us is near, especially during danger or heightened emotion, they respond.

They always have, in ways we still don't fully understand. "

"And they were off like the way it was today?"

He nods. "You felt it too. That pulse? It wasn’t just some tremor. It was a surge. Something is coming, and we don't know what it is. Something that’s pulling at the ley lines and twisting them out of tune."

I draw my knees closer, the coolness of the earth grounding me as the pieces start slotting together. "This entire time, I thought I was chasing unusual animal migration. But the animals aren’t migrating. They’re reacting."

"Exactly."

I look up at him again. His face is open. Honest. Still a little wild around the edges from what just happened. "And you didn’t tell me because..."

"Because once you know, you can’t unknow. And it’s dangerous knowledge."

I take that in, the weight of it settling across my chest like a lead blanket. "You were trying to protect me."

He nods once, though his jaw tightens with frustration. "I just hope I didn’t screw everything up by revealing it this way."

I shake my head, a thousand thoughts crashing like waves, but one thing floats to the surface. "You saved my life."

He shrugs one shoulder, casual and not casual at all. "I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you."

"Why?"

Beau chuckles. "I think you know that I have more than a passing interest in you."

"I thought maybe you just had a thing for visiting biologists."

"No." He shakes his head and mutters something sounds very much like in for a penny, in for a pound . "I couldn't. Because you are my mate."

"I'm human."

"I know."

Silence stretches between us, but it isn’t empty.

It’s dense with everything we don’t have words for yet.

The truth I just learned. The questions I haven’t asked.

The way he looked as a bear, towering and powerful and protective.

The way my pulse didn’t scream in fear, but in something deeper. Something hotter. Something undeniable.

"Is that allowed?" I ask, wondering if whatever I'm feeling is even possible.

"More than allowed. You are my fated mate. The one predestined to be mine. Usually, it would be another shifter, but sometimes it isn't."

He closes the distance and reaches out, fingertips grazing my wrist. "Are you okay?"

I look down at our hands. His touch is warm. Solid. Real. "I wouldn't go that far, but I’m not running."

His lips quirk. "Good. I'd rather not have to chase you again today."

My laugh this time is quieter, steadier. "But maybe tomorrow? I could be feeling fast."

"You're always feeling something, and it's usually reckless."

"Says the guy who runs into stampedes of elk without blinking."

"Only if it means I get to keep you alive—and maybe hear that laugh again."

The quiet between us changes, no longer empty but charged with something electric and unspoken.

It winds through the air and tightens in my chest, pressing behind my ribs like a held breath.

Every second stretches long and sharp, thick with the weight of what’s just been revealed and everything that might come next.

I adjust my position slightly, acutely aware of every inch separating us. His gaze hasn't left mine, and something inside me flips. Uncertainty collides with curiosity, and fear twists into something closer to fascination.

I don't know what happens next, but I know I won't look away first. It turns heavy with potential, with heat, with the gravity of the truth stretching out between us like a fault line. My entire life just pivoted on this axis, and yet, staring into his eyes, I don’t feel lost. I feel seen.

And maybe, for the first time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be—not because everything makes sense, but because something deeper inside me recognizes this moment as mine.

The weight of uncertainty still lingers, but it doesn’t push me away.

It draws me closer, threading possibility into the fear, like light breaking through fog.

I don’t know what the future holds, but I know I want to face it here, with him.