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Chapter 19

Carina

M y heart is hammering inside my chest, so loud I can barely hear anything else.

The feel of Horace’s big, warm body beneath me is clouding my senses.

Or maybe it’s doing the opposite.

Maybe it’s grounding me.

But I don’t want that, either.

I don’t want him to feel like safety when my entire world has just been flipped upside down.

I shove against his chest, and this time, he lets me go. His hands drop away, and to my surprise the loss of his touch is like an unsettling shock to my nervous system.

But I force myself to ignore it.

I scramble off of him, stepping back like distance will make this make sense.

“Are you making fun of me?” My voice comes out uneven, thick with something raw I don’t want to name.

Horace’s brows snap together, his expression one of pure frustration. “No! Why would you even think that?”

But he can’t be serious.

Not about any of it.

But most especially not about that.

About being a Shifter.

The jerk.

He simply can’t be what he’s saying he is.

I turn on my heel, grabbing my phone off the counter with shaking fingers. My thumb flies across the screen as I type out a frantic text message to my sister.

Me:

Come get me. Bring clothes. Shoes. My car. I need to leave.

“Carina, please. Just listen?—”

“Listen?” I whip around, my breath coming too fast.

“To you what? You telling me you turn into a Bear! That we’re supposed to be together because we have some magical connection or something?”

“Yes! That is exactly what I’m saying!” He takes a step forward, and I instinctively back up.

I don’t want to hear this. I can’t hear this.

My hands are trembling as I storm into his bedroom, the overwhelming scent of him filling the space, wrapping around me like a snare I can’t escape from.

“What are you doing?” Horace asks, watching me with an unreadable expression.

He scratches his head in a way that should be illegal.

Why does he have to look so damn adorable while ruining everything?

I yank open his drawers, shoving things aside, suddenly furious.

At him.

At myself.

At the fact that he is so damn cute and such an ass at the same time.

“I’m trying to find something to put on,” I snap, not even looking at him.

“Slow down,” he says, his voice low and soothing, like he’s trying to calm me. “Please, just let me explain.”

“No,” I bite out, slamming a drawer shut. “I am not listening to you make a joke out of what I thought was a really nice night.”

I found a pair of his boxer briefs and I tug them on since I wasn’t wearing anything beneath his t-shirt.

They are not enough to go out in, but I feel somewhat decent.

I turn to face him, eyes burning as my throat tightens.

“I’m sorry if women are a dime a dozen to men like you,” I continue, voice shaking, “but I don’t do one-night stands. And goddamn it, I thought you were special!”

And because life loves to humiliate me, I start crying.

Tears well up, spilling over before I can stop them, hot and unwelcome.

I wipe at my face furiously, but it’s too late—he’s already seen.

“Carina, please don’t cry,” he says, stepping toward me.

“Stay away from me!” I shout, raw and tired and just done.

A knock sounds at the front door, and I shove past him, desperate for an escape.

It has to be my sister.

Horace growls.

A low, animalistic sound that raises the hairs on the back of my neck.

Then he moves, stepping in front of me like a damn wall, his broad back blocking my view of the door.

“Oh my God, move!” I snap, exasperated. “It’s my sister?—”

But it’s not.

A voice drifts in, smooth and amused.

“Am I interrupting something?”

I freeze.

Horace tenses. His muscles are coiling like a spring about to snap.

I peek around his enormous body, annoyed that he’s still in boxer briefs, his entire ridiculous physique on display like some kind of carved-from-stone god.

Meanwhile, he keeps tucking me behind him.

Like I need protection.

Like whatever’s on the other side of that door isn’t friendly.

And suddenly, I have a very, very bad feeling. But I look anyway, expecting the boogeyman.

The person standing in the doorway is not some terrifying supernatural threat.

No.

Instead, it’s an amiable-looking older man with a head of neatly groomed white hair and facial hair to match. His sapphire-blue eyes sparkle with mischief as he takes in Horace’s near-nakedness and my clearly disheveled appearance.

Oh my god. Kill me now.

“Darlings, I feel I may have arrived at the nick of time,” the man announces, his voice rich and warm, like whiskey and old books.

Horace stiffens in front of me, unmoving. A behemoth of a roadblock.

I poke him. Hard.

Right in the middle of his very solid back.

He grunts but doesn’t budge.

“Oh my God, let him in!” I huff, exasperated.

Finally, Horace steps aside— reluctantly, I might add —to allow the man inside, but as soon as the door clicks shut, he whirls on me.

Before I can even ask what the hell he’s doing, he snatches his coat from the rack and drapes it over my shoulders.

I blink up at him, stunned. “What are you doing?” I hiss.

“Do not mind him, dear,” the older man—Uncle Uzzi?—interjects smoothly. “His beast won’t settle until he is satisfied that you are properly covered, especially in front of an unmated male.”

I gape at him. “Beast? Unmated male? Oh, no. Please do not tell me you’re actually going along with this jerk’s idiotic lies!”

I stomp my foot.

Yes, I am that mature.

Uncle Uzzi sighs, giving Horace a pointed look. “You fool! Are you telling me, Horace Vanderbilt, that you did not explain things to Miss Coppola before you bit her?”

I watch in amazement as blue sparks flicker across his palm—and zap Horace right on his perfect ass.

“Ouch!” Horace yelps, jerking upright.

My jaw drops.

“W-what was that?” I croak, trying to process whatever the hell I just saw.

“Oh, that?” Uzzi waves a hand, unconcerned. “Nothing to worry about, dear. Hopefully, I zapped a little sense into this Neanderthal.”

“You zapped him.”

“That’s right.” He smooths his coat, looking entirely unbothered. “Now, I was originally here to discuss Horace’s progress on my Date to Mate app?—”

I blink. What?

“—but I think you two need my help a bit more than that.” He clasps his hands together. “So, what exactly has he told you?”

Horace groans, rubbing a hand down his face. “Uncle Uzzi, I was just about to explain everything when you rang the bell.”

Uzzi narrows his eyes. “You mean you were going to tell her about Shifters and fated mates after you already claimed her with your bite?”

Horace winces.

“This is not how it works, Horace. You know better!” Uzzi scolds.

“I know.” Horace exhales heavily, his gaze flicking to me, pleading. “I messed up. But, Uncle Uzzi, please—she’s the one. My fated mate. My Bear knows it. I know it.”

He turns to me, stepping closer. “Carina, I swear to you, everything I’m saying is true.”

Uzzi tilts his head. “Perhaps if you show her?”

“Wait, what?—”

But before I can finish that sentence, Horace hooks his thumbs into his waistband and pulls down his underwear.

And fuck.

I stare.

Like an absolute pervert.

Because holy hell .

Horace Vanderbilt’s body is better than any of the romance books I’ve read.

He’s a living, breathing sculpture, all muscle and heat and sheer masculinity, and the worst part?

He knows it. He must know it.

The jerk.

“You gotta stop looking at me like that, Sweetheart,” he rumbles, voice dropping dangerously low. “Or the Bear won’t come out.”

I snap my gaze away, cheeks burning. “Oh my God.”

The sound of bones snapping and fabric tearing has me turning back—just in time to see the man I spent the night with begin to change.

And my brain short-circuits.

Because it’s not just a shift.

It’s a transformation. And it looks hard. Painful.

The man I know disappears, and in his place stands something massive, dark, and covered in thick fur.

A motherhumping Grizzly Bear.

A real, actual, living, breathing Bear.

I am face to face with a gigantic, broad-shouldered, terrifyingly powerful beast.

The penthouse door is still open.

And just when I think I can’t handle one more thing, my sister Dina walks in.

Horace lets out a low, disgruntled roar.

Dina screams.

“CARINA? HOLY HELL, IT’S A BEAR!”

And because I am just that amazing,

I pass out.