Chapter Six
Cody
The next morning, Reid was gone before Cody woke up.
Not gone from the property entirely, but out of the house.
There was a note on the counter informing him that Reid was carrying out perimeter checks that could take most of the day.
There was food in the fridge. Cody was to stay inside and text if he needed anything.
Reid had scribbled his cellphone number underneath. What perimeter checks took all day?
Reid was clearly avoiding him.
Cody frowned. He crumpled the note, and fought the urge to throw it, before heading to the refrigerator to see what he could have for breakfast.
Fine. If Reid wanted distance? Cody could do distance.
Except the house felt wrong without Reid's presence. Too quiet. Too empty. And Cody hated that he noticed that fact.
He tried to distract himself by grabbing his guitar and spent the day writing. The melody came easily again—something soft and aching about safety and walls and the fear of letting someone in.
He was so lost in the music that he didn't hear the front door open.
"That's beautiful," Reid said.
Cody jumped, fumbling the guitar. Reid stood in the doorway of the living room, covered in a light sheen of sweat like he'd been working hard outside. His eyes were fixed on Cody with that intense focus that made breathing difficult.
"Thanks," Cody said carefully. "I didn't hear you come in."
"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you." Reid hesitated, then stepped into the room. "I've never heard that song before."
"That's because I just wrote it." Cody set the guitar aside. "How were the perimeter checks?"
"Fine. Everything's secure."
"That take all day?"
Reid's jaw tightened. "I just, I needed some space."
"From me."
Reid shook his head. "From the situation."
"I am the situation, Reid."
Reid exhaled slowly, that careful control starting to fracture. "You're making this impossible."
"I'm not doing anything." Cody stood, tired of this dance. "You're the one running."
"I'm not running. I'm maintaining professional boundaries."
"Bullshit." The word came out sharper than Cody intended. "You admitted last night that there was something here. Then you disappeared for twelve hours. That's running."
"Cody—"
"Do you know what it's like?" Cody's voice cracked.
"To spend months feeling scared and alone and watched by someone who wants to hurt you?
To have everyone treat you like you're paranoid or high maintenance?
And then you show up, and for the first time in forever, I feel safe.
I feel seen. And it's not just professional—I know it's not, because I see the way you look at me.
But you won't talk to me, won't tell me what's happening, and I—" He stopped, throat tight.
Reid was across the room in three strides.
He didn't touch Cody, but he was there, solid and present and close enough that Cody could feel his body heat.
"I can't," Reid said, voice rough. "I can't tell you what’s going on because…"
"Because what?”
"Because it will sound insane. Because you'll think I'm—" Reid cut himself off, something like anguish flickering across his face. "Because when I tell you, when you know, everything changes."
"Everything already changed," Cody said. "The moment I got here. The moment we met. Didn't it?"
Reid's eyes closed. When he opened them again, they were that amber-gold color, almost glowing. For the briefest of moments, Cody thought it looked inhuman. He pushed the thought away.
"Yes," Reid whispered.
"Then tell me. Please. I can't handle not knowing what this is,” he said gesturing between them.”
For a long moment, Reid just looked at him. Then, like he was making the hardest decision of his life—
"Not here. Outside. I need to… show you something first."
Cody frowned. “Okay.”
It was weird that Reid couldn’t tell him here, but God help him, he trusted the man. He had no clue why, but he did.
Ten minutes later, Cody stood in the middle of a pasture, the mountains purple and gold in the sunset, while Reid paced twenty feet away looking like a caged animal.
"Okay," Cody said carefully. "I'm officially confused."
Reid stopped pacing then turned to face him. "I need you to promise me something."
"What?"
"That you won't run. That you'll hear me out completely before you decide I'm insane."
Cody's stomach flipped with nerves. "Reid, you're scaring me."
"I know. I'm sorry." Reid's hands clenched and unclenched. "But you deserve the truth. Especially since—" He stopped, started again. "A reason I react to you the way I do. A reason I've been fighting this so hard."
"Okay…"
Reid took a deep breath. "I'm not entirely human, Cody."
Silence.
"What?" Cody managed.
"Look, I don’t want you to be scared, okay? One thing you need to know before I say anything more is that I would never hurt you. Not ever.”
Cody’s heart was racing, whether from fear or anticipation he couldn’t be sure, but he did believe that Reid wouldn’t hurt him.
“Go on,” he prompted.
“I'm a shifter, Cody. A grizzly bear. It's genetic—some humans carry the ability to shift into an animal form. There are entire communities of us. We've been hiding in plain sight for, well, we don’t know for how long exactly, but a very long time, for sure."
Cody stared at him. His brain felt like it was buffering. "You're… a bear," he said with a frown, the words sounding as crazy as they had when Reid had said them.
"Yes."
"Like, a literal bear."
"Yes. I mean, I can shift into one."
Cody looked around the empty pasture, half-expecting cameras. "Is this a prank? Did Diane put you up to this?"
"It's not a prank." Reid's voice was steady. Serious. "I can prove it. If you want."
Cody's heart was hammering. This was insane. Impossible. Except—
Except Reid's eyes had gone amber sometimes—a shade that was unlike any eye color that Cody had ever seen on a human. Except nothing about the way Reid affected him felt entirely human. It felt… other.
"Prove it," Cody heard himself say.
Reid's chest rose and fell with a deep breath. He stared at Cody for a long moment, and Cody watched the internal battle play across his features—fear and desire warring in those hazel eyes that were already beginning to turn that unusual shade of amber again.
"Hey." Cody stood, moving closer. "Look at me."
Reid's eyes were fully amber now, rimmed with gold.
And absolutely beautiful.
But definitely not human.
"You dropped everything to protect a stranger," Cody said. "You sat outside my door all night to make sure I was safe. You've been patient with me every single moment since I arrived here.” Cody took Reid's hand. It was trembling. "I trust you.”
"It's not just—" Reid shook his head. "It's different. When I'm like that, I'm not thinking like a human. The bear—he doesn't reason. He just feels. He wants. And if he wants to claim you—"
“Claim me?” Cody questioned.
Reid sighed. “That’s something I need to tell you about, but I don’t want to overwhelm you. Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
“Reid!” Cody protested.
Reid's eyes dropped closed for a moment. When he opened them again, the determination had returned. He nodded once.
He started unbuttoning his shirt.
Cody’s mouth went dry. This wasn’t about seeing Reid’s body. This was something else entirely. Every button Reid undid felt like a deliberate peeling away of layers, an exposure of his soul.
Reid's shirt fell. His jeans followed. Then he stood before Cody in the amber light of sunset, completely naked, and for a moment he was just a man. Broad-chested and scarred and beautiful.
Then he began to change.
Cody wasn’t sure if he had actually believed this was going to happen or not, but as he watched, he was so fascinated that the absurdity of the moment didn’t process.
The shift wasn't violent or grotesque in the way Cody might have imagined.
It was almost graceful, a beautiful unfolding of what had always been underneath.
Reid's body contorted, not painfully but purposefully.
Bone lengthened and grew. Muscle rippled and expanded.
Dark hair spread across his body like a wave, covering skin that was becoming something else entirely.
But the sound—God, the sound. A groaning, creaking symphony of transformation, and underneath it all, a rumble that started in Reid’s chest and became a roar. The roar of a being that had been held back and was now finally free.
Finally, a large, beautiful bear stood in the place where Reid had been.
The transformation took perhaps ten seconds, though it felt both longer and shorter at once.
The bear was the largest Cody had ever seen—massive and dark and utterly magnificent.
Muscles rippled under its thick fur. The bear's eyes were a bright amber—the same color that Cody had caught a flash of when Reid had been human, but they were still unmistakably him.
Cody's breath had caught somewhere in his chest. He couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but stare.
The bear was so big. So powerful. In this form, Reid was absolutely a predator, a creature that could kill with casual ease. Everything about him was raw power and instinct.
And then the bear did the most unexpected thing.
He lowered himself to the ground, belly exposed, ears flat against his head—the most vulnerable position a predator could assume.
The bear's face turned slightly toward Cody, and even without a human voice, the message was clear—I trust you. I'm submitting to you.
Cody's vision blurred with sudden tears. This massive, beautiful creature, terrifying in his power, was offering himself completely.
"You're beautiful," Cody breathed. "Reid, you're so beautiful."