Chapter 3
Alan liked disappearing into the field of corn near the bar.
It was the height of summer, so the scents were pleasantly ripe, and the deafening sounds from the bar quickly faded.
The corn was face high, so he had to duck his head to avoid the whipping leaves.
That allowed him to focus on his feet, the steady thud as his heels hit the ground.
Children would be out here soon. The little ones would scramble through corn mazes.
The teens would detassle the crop during the day and drink beer near the stream at night.
Memories crowded in. Happy moments better left untouched. He pushed them away in favor of the night breeze and not taking a header into an unexpected ditch. The gas station where he’d parked his motorcycle came up too fast, and his mind slammed back to his surroundings with an almost painful jolt.
Tonya.
He stumbled to a halt at the edge of the parking lot, barely twenty feet from her. How had he missed the scent of her vanilla shampoo and baby powder deodorant? The wind was blowing it straight at him, and even unconscious, he would know it was her.
She was leaning against his motorcycle. He drank in her long legs and short blond hair that was more practical than stylish.
He also noted the mussed outline of her sheriff’s deputy uniform.
She looked tired, and the wrinkles in her clothing told him she’d driven up here straight from a shift.
His first instinct was to ask her what he could do. Whatever was wrong, he would fix it.
He squashed that thought almost before it was born. He wouldn’t help her or anyone in the Gladwin grizzly clan ever again. So he set his face into hard lines and walked straight up to the bike.
“I need that,” he said.
She turned to look at him, the softness on her face so appealing. It was rare for her jaw to be relaxed, rarer still for her eyes to mist or her lips to curve into a smile. She did all three when she saw him. Then she exhaled a low breath as if she’d been holding it in for too long.
“Alan. Really glad you’re alive.”
“Tonya. Go home. Get some sleep. You look ragged.”
Her brows arched. “You say the sweetest things.”
He looked her straight in the eye. “Not anymore.” And that was as clear as he could make the message. Whatever relationship they might have had, whatever torch he used to carry for her was gone. Terminated with prejudice.
He watched the message land. Her eyes widened and her jaw tightened. And then her shoulders slumped. It was a measure of how long they’d known each other that she allowed her spine to curve in front of him. Normally, her back and her life were as straight arrow as possible.
“Look, I know you have reason to be pissed,” she said.
Ya think?
“But that’s no reason to turn your back on the people who care most for you. Everyone’s been searching for you nonstop since you disappeared from the hospital.”
He felt his fingers spike into claws where they curled against his thighs.
The run had helped clear his head. He could think right now, but that didn’t mean he was safe.
So he settled into his fury because it would end the conversation fast enough to keep her alive.
He had no idea what he would do to her if the monster took hold.
“Who cares so much for me?” he snapped, hating that he sounded like a whiny child. “My family didn’t notice I’d been captured. The clan I’ve served since I was three can’t bother to pay for my services. Or did you mean Carl, my brother and alpha—”
“Carl offered you a generous salary. If this is about money, then—”
“Or is it about you? Finally ready to let me in when it’s already too late.”
She froze and her eyes widened. “I’ve been worried sick about you, Alan. Please come home.”
He believed her. Everything about her screamed exhaustion. Nerves stretched too thin. But it was too late for them. “Our timing always sucked.”
“So let’s get it right—”
“I’m leaving, Tonya. You go home and get some sleep. Now get off my bike.”
She huffed out a breath and he could see the resignation hit her. One thing about Tonya: she never lived in hope. It was all about the facts as presented to her at any given moment.
“About this bike,” she said as she idly pulled out her handcuffs. She made it look like she was playing with them, but the threat that she’d use them hung like bad smoke in the air. “Turns out it’s not yours. You’re wanted for theft, Mr. Carman. And I’ll be taking you in.”
He snorted. “Nice try, but Carl bought this bike off the owner. He emailed that to me a couple days back. So now it’s mine.”
“Wrong. Now it’s Carl’s—”
“And he’s prosecuting?”
She grimaced. “If that’s what it takes to get you home.”
She was negotiating with him. Feeling out her options as to the best way to get him back to Gladwin. He’d known her their whole lives, so he knew she wouldn’t let it go. If Carl had ordered her to bring him back, she wouldn’t stop until she’d seen the truth. Might as well get it over with now.
So he let himself shift. The line was so slim between human and monster.
In truth, he was all monster, but sometimes the worst of it didn’t show.
Sometimes he kept the smell of it hidden away.
And sometimes he could pretend he was in control.
He gave up that illusion now. He relaxed everything until he felt his nose lengthen and his jaw square off.
Fur sprouted on his arms and legs, and the oil that allowed it to grow oozed out in a stench that always made him want to retch.
His muscles thickened and his fingernails became claws.
Vile.
The smell hit her first. She was a grizzly bear-shifter, so her nose was the most sensitive. It wrinkled, and her gaze darted around. It took her two seconds before she realized the stench came from him. The wrong scent was him, the boy who’d adored her since he was fourteen years old.
“Alan...” she choked out.
He didn’t answer, just let the smell thicken between them. He could do that, he realized. He could make the scent choke the air like a noxious fog. And then she straightened, facing him square on.
“I don’t care, Alan. Make it stink to high heaven, but hear this: I. Don’t. Care.”
He wanted to believe her. He wanted to feel accepted and loved, just as he was.
But he knew it couldn’t happen for him. He knew it was too late because he couldn’t love himself.
Not like this. Not as a monster. And besides, with his fever building again, he doubted he would live long enough to make peace with himself.
But rather than say that, he chose the cowardly way out. He ran, using his shifter speed.
He shoved her aside, careful to make sure she fell onto soft dirt and not the concrete rubble a few feet to the left.
She rolled with the fall, adjusting easily, though he’d moved with lightning speed.
But she was off balance and too far away.
Plenty of time for him to leap onto the bike and kick it to life.
Part of him wanted to wait, to see what she would do.
Would she fight to keep him near? Or back away in horror?
Maybe she’d shoot him because that’s what cops did to monsters.
He didn’t wait. He didn’t want to know.