2. Chapter Two
“Happy birthday, dear Mama! Happy birthday to you!” my brothers and I croon loudly, alongside the crowd crammed into her favorite off-site bar on the outskirts of town.
Ordinarily, we would’ve held the party on our own grounds, inside the restaurant my younger brother, Connor, runs, but he’s having the whole place renovated before the summer holiday rush of visitors. So, while the hoots and hollers break out, Mama looks around the room with her eyes shining and the candles flickering on the enormous cake Connor created.
“Y’all didn’t have to do this,” she says, rounding up the three of us into her arms and giving us a squeeze. It’s like we’re cubs again, nestled in her strong, warm embrace. “Makin’ a big fuss over nothing.”
“It’s a milestone birthday, Ma,” Connor says. “Sixty. It’s a big one.”
Mama makes a face and gives him a little cuff by the ear. “I didn’t want a party. I wanted some grandbabies. Gimme some cute little cubs to coo over and cuddle. That’s what you should’ve been doing.”
We all groan as she leans over. Mama is nothing but persistent in her pursuit of grand-cubs.
“Oh, I’m sure it’s not for lack of trying. Especially in Connor’s case,” Clayton teases.
With an arched brow leveled at each one of us, she leans over the cake, closes her eyes—undoubtedly making a wish for those precious cubs—and blows out a breath. As the candles blink out, applause erupts around us along with a round of “For She’s A Jolly Good Fellow.”
“C’mon, Osbornes, tuck in tight. Let’s get a photo.” The bar’s owner, a lumbering green orc with a gleaming golden nose ring, holds up her phone and gestures for us to assemble. I throw my arms around my brothers as we stand behind Ma. The three of us tower over her, all six-foot-plus-er’s to her barely-skimming the five-foot mark. Big, strapping bear shifters, all with her signature dark hair and wide grins. But I’m the only one who inherited her dimple—not that anyone can see it under my thick beard.
The flash goes, and I drain the last of my beer as Connor gets to work slicing and serving up the chocolate monstrosity he’d baked. And before I can slip away to let my mama be swarmed by the masses, she tucks her hand into the crook of my arm.
“You know, if y’all don’t get a move on, I’m going to be as old and gray as Miss Maebeth before I ever get to help out with any cubs of yours.” She nods in the direction of Maebeth Thierault, one of the oldest witches around Fable Forest. She’d once been a very powerful, knowledgeable witch, but in her advanced years, her mind hasn’t been nearly as sharp. Hardly anyone can make sense of the things she says these days. Doesn’t keep her from turning up to work every day, running the Mystica gift shop alongside her half-fae niece.
She seems to sense us looking and her head swivels in our direction. Her unreadable eyes narrow, and a cold wash of dread cascades over my body. My bear rumbles low in my chest, huffing and pawing. Wanting out.
I shudder. Never did like it when a witch stared at me too long. If I didn’t know better, I’d worry the old witch hexed me.
“Wait that long, and I may not be of much use to you, your mate, or the cubs. It’s in your best interest to listen to your mother and find her.”
“I don’t want a mate, Ma. Don’t need one.” I try not to frown down at her. It’s her birthday, after all, but she’s gotten a bee in her bonnet about this lately, and it’s been relentless. “You’re better off talking to Clayton about it. He’s the only one who’s got a mate to chase after. He’s your best bet for grand-cubs if you’re looking to have them sooner rather than later. It ain’t gonna be me.”
She casts a glance over at my big brother dutifully doling out slices of cake to the townsfolk who’d turned up to celebrate Ma’s big birthday.
Help,I telepathically toss out his way.
You’re on your own. Don’t come crying to me for help when you’ve offered me up as a sacrificial bone to save yourself.Clay glances up and gives me a bland, questioning look while holding up a plate of cake in question.
I glower back at him. He shrugs and hands off the slice to someone else while Mama drones on about me needing to be open to the possibilities, not to be so close-minded, and that I could be so happy.
“I am happy,” I mutter back. “I’m happy on my own, in my solitude. My cabin is just as I like it. My life is picture-perfect. I’ve got family, friends, and the forest. What else could I possibly want?”
My bear splutters as if calling bullshit on me and starts pacing. I roll my neck, trying to ease the tension coiling inside me.
“Don’t you tell me that, Cole Osborne. I know you don’t believe a word of that line you’re feeding me. Why don’t you take my advice? I can already tell your bear’s restless. He wants to hunt. He wants to find more than just berries in that thick forest, and I know you can. Let him call out for your mate. Or at least let me contact your Auntie Jojo. She was a brilliant matchmaker, you know.”
I grit my teeth and try to keep the agitated pacing at bay. Can’t let Mama see she’s put her finger on that weird hollow feeling that’s been rattling around inside me for the last few months. I’d never hear the end of it. “No. What good would that do me?”
“A helluva lot,” Connor pipes up, plopping a plate of his magnificent seven-layer chocolate cake in my hand. “Maybe you can stop sneering at everyone and scaring all the guests.”
“I am not.” I bare my teeth at him, my jaw clenched tight. “I just need to get out of this damn space. It’s stifling in here. Too hot. Too stuffy.”
Mama reaches for my cheek and immediately coos at me, “Are you ill? Now that you mention it, you are looking a little pale.”
I duck out of reach before she can try to take my temperature in front of at least a third of the town, and grumble that I just need some air.
You okay, bro? Connor’s voice sounds in my head even as he continues passing out cake and cracking jokes with the locals.
You keep too tight of a leash on your bear, Cole. Go for a run or something. Clayton’s eyes are full of concern, and I have to admit that he’s right. It’s been a long while since I’d let my bear run free. Been too focused on working from sunup to sundown on summer preparations for our family business.
Wilderwood Lodges and Campground is something we built and expanded as a family. This summer’s set to be our biggest, most in-demand season yet after we got featured in several high-profile travel blogs and magazines as an eco-friendly, gorgeous, and remote space to hit the reset button. Plus, Mama says there’s some amazing book series based on the town that’s drawing dedicated fans to the area.
Apparently, we’re hosting a whole convention for it next year to celebrate the final book’s release. Mama’s already volunteered us all to sit on a panel addressing Bear Shifters: Fact vs. Fiction. Another thing to add to my to-do list, alongside finding a mate I don’t want and giving her grand-cubs.
I shake my head and swallow down the whole of the chocolate cake in a few bites. Then with a quick press of my lips to her cheek, I tell her I’m going to head home.
When I catch the questioning, worried look in her eyes, I look to the ceiling and pray for patience.
“I’m fine. Promise. Just need to go for a run. Roam for a bit.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but she pats my arm anyway. “Think about what I said. And be safe.”
I wave her off and head for the door, passing Maebeth along the way. With surprising speed and strength, she latches onto my wrist and leans over from her perch on the barstool.
“Beware, boy. You can run, but can’t hide.” Then she releases me and cackles, the sound of it high and shrill. “She’s comin’ for ya. She’s gonna getcha getcha getcha.”
The sound of her laughter rings in my ears as I pull away and try to shake off the chill that runs through me. She doesn’t know her own mind most days. She probably doesn’t know what she’s saying, but my bear snaps its jaws and I fight not to growl at the old woman.
Instead, I signal the barkeep that they ought to cut off Maebeth’s supply and I duck outside.
Finally, I can breathe. All the spring scents hit me. Pine needles. Wet earth. Rain on asphalt. Then lightning splits the sky, adding that electric charge to the mix.
And even though I know it can be dangerous, right now, it smells like freedom.
It’s just what I need—what my bear needs. Solitude.
With hurried motions, I strip down to my skin before running to the tree line and shifting. My body cracks and expands, my muscles bulking up and bones lengthening. When the shift is complete and that trademark grizzly hump forms between my shoulder blades, I stretch up to my full height and let out a roar of deep satisfaction.
I’m free. Alone, but free.
But as I sit up on my hind legs, feel their strength as I sniff the air, I realize there’s something else. Something new in the air.
What the hell is that scent? It’s like an alluring honeysuckle mixed with some intoxicating sweetness. It draws me forward, one paw in front of the other, my nose twitching as I try to identify the source through the rapidly falling rain.
The wet barely penetrates my thickened fur coat as I pad out to the edge of the road, splashing through puddles in the parking lot and pausing as the scent grows stronger. My bear wants to hunt down the source of the scent, but I turn toward the forest, toward home. Then I step out into the street, and a flash of light catches my attention.
Turning, I expect a crack of lightning to rip across the swirling sky. But I don’t see that.
What I see are the headlights of a slick city car and it’s careening right for me. Its driver jolts at the sight of me, spilling her drink all over her front as she pulls back in her seat and slams on the breaks while I urge my bear to move, fucking move!
She swerves, her tires kicking up a fine spray as my bear tries, and fails, to get out of the way.
Oh, fuck.