Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Matthias
I stare down my brothers. My bear answers to no one.
But there’s no one I’d rather talk about than Maisy. And I need to stake my claim. Axel was her prom date, once upon a time. He did it as a favor to Daisy, but just in case…I need to make sure he knows she’s off limits.
“Daisy’s granddaughter, huh?” Teddy raises a brow at me.
“She has a name,” I say. “It’s Maisy.” It’s actually Daisy May Bennett the Third, but she goes by Maisy. Too many people call her Daisy or Missy. They mix her up with her grandmother or her best friend, Missy.
Which isn’t right. Maisy deserves a spotlight of her own.
“We’re going on a date. And none of you are to interfere,” I order them. Their eyes flash at me as their bears acknowledge the command.
I wait for Axel to protest, but he’s wearing a small smile.
“Maisy and Matthias,” Teddy says. He opens the bottle of whiskey. “I’ll drink to that.” he chugs straight from the bottle. As soon as he’s done, he hands it to Darius, who does the same thing.
“It’s not like that. It’s just a date.” I can’t lie to them and say Maisy isn’t my mate. They’ll smell that I’m lying.
But I’m not going to claim her. I’m not going to take her choices from her.
“Don’t deny it, brother,” Axel says. “It just makes it harder in the end.”
“What do you know about it?” I shoot back. “And how do you know Maisy?”
Axel stretches lazily. “She’s a friend. I always thought whoever she chooses to date would win the jackpot. She’s beautiful, kind, focused, amazing…”
My growl rips out of me. I grit my teeth, and it cuts off. The intensity stunned me.
I have to get control of myself.
“She is. You’re not to get near her,” I say. Tension crackles in the air. Teddy and Darius exchange looks, as if planning on how they’ll interfere if I jump on Axel and start whaling on him.
“I won’t, brother. I’ve been keeping an eye on her, but if you’re going to do it, I won’t have to.”
“You don’t. I’ll be watching over her from now on.”
Axel just grins, cool as a cucumber, and beckons for the twins to hand him the whiskey. He chugs it, and I wrinkle my nose. Drinking from the same bottle is disgusting. A health hazard.
But the more I watch them, the more I want to take a shot. I need it to distract me from thinking about Maisy. Her soft lips, her shining hair, her excitement when she told me the stalest jokes imaginable…just to make sure I wasn’t afraid.
Ours. My bear says. Our Maisy.
My phone flashes with a text. I look down and see it’s Maisy.
She’s replying to my text about our date.
Sounds good! See you then.
Then…
What do you call a prom in the North Pole?
A snow ball!
I chuckle to myself. I need to get that joke book from my youngest brothers and study up, so I can keep the joke volley going.
When I look up, my three brothers are staring at me.
I tuck away my phone and clear my throat. “What?”
“You just…laughed,” Teddy narrows his eyes at me.
“I laugh.”
Axel snorts.
“What? I do. Shut up.”
“He’s going to fall and fall hard,” Teddy says. “I’ll bet anything.”
“I’ll take that bet,” Darius says.
Teddy holds out a hand and Darius takes it. They both shake without looking at each other. Their eyes are fixed on me.
I briefly consider fratricide.
Not worth it. Paloma and Lana would kill me.
“You’re wrong,” I grumble. But when Axel passes the whiskey to me, I take a swig and let it burn down my throat.
Tomorrow I am going on a date with Maisy. And there’s not enough Moon Cure to keep me fantasizing about kissing the hell out of my lovely mate.
I am so fucked.
I can’t wait.
Maisy
I’m sitting at my vanity, a makeup mirror propped on my entrepreneurship textbooks in front of me. Getting ready for my date. With Dr. Hu–Stark. Matthias.
Cue internal screaming.
The only thing keeping me from melting into a puddle on the floor is my determination to be early to our hike, so I don’t keep him waiting.
When’s your birthday?
He texted me earlier.
You said it’s coming up.
Valentine’s day.
I want to ask why he wants to know, but before I work up the nerve to be flirty, he texts back.
I’ll have to get you a good present.
Squee!!!
I can’t believe this is happening. A date with Dr. Hunk? What even is my life? At this rate, I’ll be done with my New Year’s list by my birthday. All my baby steps are adding up to big changes.
Even my old familiar bedroom is transformed.
No more dusty participation trophies or boy band posters on the walls.
I cleaned out my closet and donated all my clothes from my high school years.
Goodbye baggy t-shirts and uncomfortable jeans.
Now everything I reach for flatters my wide hips and big, gorgeous butt.
Thanks to Lana Langmeyer and her GoddessWear, I’m learning to embrace my style.
And my room no longer feels like a child’s. It doesn’t remind me of the person I used to be.
Now I just need to upgrade my makeup look.
Missy was supposed to come over and help, but her mom needed her in Sante Fe for a family event, so she’s talking me through it over the phone.
My favorite unicorn stuffie, Mr. Sparkles, holds my phone.
Because I’m a grown-ass woman, but I’ll treasure my stuffies forever.
My goal is to figure out how to apply eyeliner without stabbing myself in the cornea.
“I’m just saying you would love it,” Missy says.
I have her on speakerphone. She was telling me how to do a cat-eye, but got side-tracked talking about her new life in L.A.
She moved out there last year to make a go at her acting career, but she ran out of money and is home living with her parents in Santa Fe while she regroups. “Hollywood is so amazing.”
“I know you love it, but I don’t think it’s for me. You’re there to break into acting. What would I even do?”
“You work at a coffee shop. You can get a job anywhere.”
Ouch.
I frown. “I’m a manager at Daisy Day. I set my own hours.
I have a lot of creative control.” I don’t just make lattes.
I do the books and plan the marketing campaigns.
Daisy is busy with being mayor and all her side projects.
The cafe’s success is something I’m proud of, something I intend to build off.
A big move to the West Coast would be fun. But I’ve already made big changes–they might seem small to the outside world, but they were big for me. My self-esteem has grown by leaps and bounds.
I’ve been wearing crop tops more often, too, and I look cute!
I have big, big plans, but they’re still in the incubator. I haven’t shared them with anyone. So all I say is, “I love Bad Bear. I don’t want to leave.”
“I know you love Bad Bear, but do you ever want something more?”
I do, actually. I want to expand the cafe–that’s why I’m taking small business classes to study the best way to do it.
I’m tempted to tell this to Missy, but I imagine her wrinkling her nose in disbelief and asking why I would even attempt something like this.
All she sees is me pulling espresso shots.
That’s all anyone sees. And I’m fine with it.
“In Hollywood, we could live together. It’d be so much fun.”
Hmm, up until now I’ve been flattered that she’s inviting me to go with her, but maybe she just needs someone to help her pay rent.
“I’m sure you can find an awesome roommate,” I say gently. “Maybe someone who’s trying to be an actress too.”
“I’m not trying to be an actress,” Missy snips. “I am one. I’ve been in three commercials.”
For her dad’s Santa Fe dealership. When she was sixteen.
I know her dreams are bigger, but it seems she hasn’t had much success in Hollywood.
She hasn’t shared this with me, but I can tell.
Her usually bubbly enthusiasm is fraying at the seams. She doesn’t want her peak to be winning Miss New Mexico Teen at age fourteen.
She sighs. “Sorry I snapped at you. It’s just…everyone there is so cutthroat. If I roomed with another aspiring actress, I’d be afraid she’d shave off my hair in my sleep. Something to sabotage me.”
I wince. “That’s awful.”
“I’m all alone out there. You’re my best friend; you’ve always been there for me.”
“That’s what friends do. But I have my own life.” I put down the eyeliner. I’ll save the make-up lesson for another time.
“I’m sorry,” she says again. “I’m supposed to be helping you get ready for your date.”
“It’s okay.”
“I’ll make it up to you. But honestly, Maisy, you don’t really need my help,” she says. “You’re beautiful without any makeup, you always have been. Your skin is perfect.” She sounds wistful, almost envious, but that’s ridiculous. Missy is a literal beauty queen. Why would she be jealous of me?
She was such a good, loyal friend in high school, even though I felt like a side character in her glamorous life.
Her mom shouts her name, and she winces. “I have to go. But I’m counting down the hours until I can call you again. I want to hear all about your date.” She wishes me luck, and we say goodbye.
My date. I shove down the fluttering butterflies in my stomach.
Guess I’m on my own. But…I have my own back. That’s what the last few weeks have taught me. And Matthias said yes to a date when I was wearing minimal make-up. We’re going on a hike, it’s not like I need to go full glam.
I pick up my favorite peachy blush with new determination.
What kind of father buys his daughter makeup?
A MAC daddy.
Our doorbell rings, and I drop the blush with a clatter. Is Matthias here? No, we said we’d meet at the trailhead. In two hours.
There’s a big, shadowy figure beyond the door. I hesitate, but I know everyone on Bad Bear Mountain.
But when I open it, I don’t recognize the guy at all. He’s a huge white guy with a beer gut, middle-aged with a ruddy complexion. His clothes reek of cigarette smoke.
“Maisy Bennett?” He looks me up and down.
“Who are you?”
“Your dad’s been trying to reach you,” he says.
A cold wind blows through me. My dad…is troubled. He’s an addict, which means he’s been a shitty father. I’ve had therapy, so I know it’s not my fault, but it’s still hard not to want something from him–love, attention, caring–whatever, and then still be disappointed when he never gives it.
I’m glad Matthias helped me block his calls. I should’ve cut him out years ago.
“He wants to talk to you,” the man says.
“I don’t want to talk to him.”
“Not an option.”
That’s when I notice that there’s a big white creeper van with Nevada plates parked out by our mailbox. I’ve noticed it around a few times and thought it was a paint van.
I don’t have a good feeling about this. Something tells me to slam the door in the guy’s face, so I do, but he has his boot propping it open.
He grabs my arm, and shock makes me freeze. I open my mouth to scream, but he pulls close and covers my mouth. His hand smells like tobacco, and I gag.
I hear the footfalls of a second pair of boots. There’s another guy here, tall and thin with stringy hair around his pale and narrow face. He’s holding a syringe in his hand. Terror grips me, and the world wavers as the second guy comes close to stick me with the needle.
“You’re coming with us,” he says.
“No,” I whimper through the hand clamped over my mouth. For a wild second, I see Matthias’s face in front of mine. He’ll be at the trailhead waiting for me. We’re supposed to go on a date.
Today was supposed to be the best day of my life.
There’s a prick on my arm, and the world swirls away.
Matthias
I’m ten minutes early to our meeting point at the trailhead.
My bear is antsy even though I took a dose of Moon Cure before I came.
Dullness radiates through my limbs and torso, muting my hunger, blunting my fangs.
I convinced my bear that taking a dose was for the best to protect Maisy, but neither of us like how it numbs us.
My bear grows more agitated five minutes past the hour, so I text her. Fifteen minutes in, my bear is so riled I have to start pacing to let some energy out.
She wouldn’t be late. Or maybe she would be. I know everything there is to know about Maisy on paper–from a distance. But I purposely haven’t engaged with her much socially.
Is she the type to show up late? Somehow, it doesn’t seem like her. She’s responsible. Organized. Shy.
Thirty minutes in, I call Maisy, and when it goes to voicemail, I pocket my phone and jog toward her house.
Something’s wrong.
Now I’m sure. Maisy wouldn’t be late. She’s a very organized person.
Most people don’t realize how much she does.
She manages a coffee shop that’s more than a place to get a drink–it’s the social hub and true third space that creates community in our small town.
I suspect she’s the reason Daisy is so successful as mayor, too.
She’s the quiet competence executing Daisy’s wild hare-brained schemes.
Did she change her mind about the date? Was she too intimidated to text me? I know how much I fluster her.
But no, she’s too kind, and she respects me too much. She wouldn’t leave me hanging.
Which means my bear is right to be upset. Fuck! I should have called her immediately.
I have a bad feeling about this.
I smell something foul as I step onto her street. Cigarettes, strange human, my bear reports.
I speed up to a run.
When I get to Maisy’s house, the door is cracked open. I ring the bell and knock, calling her name. Maybe she just got busy with work stuff and lost track of time.
I call her again and hear her phone ringing…inside the house.
Oh, fate. I don’t like this.
She’s not here. As soon as I accept that, I can pay attention to what my bear is screaming at me.
There’s a strong scent by the door. A hunting dog can sniff out a trail by following the cloud of skin cells and scent molecules a person leaves behind. A shifter’s nose is even more sensitive.
It’s a gift and a curse. And right now, it’s torture because I can smell what Maisy was feeling when the strange men confronted her on her doorstep.
Terror. Sharp and acidic, burning my nose along with the strong smell of stale cigarettes.
She was here not long ago, along with at least two strange men.
I trace the scent to the mailbox, where it disappears.
She must’ve been put in a vehicle of some kind and driven away.
The trail ends there. Maisy’s sweet scent snuffed out by the smell of diesel and axle grease.
She’s gone.
My bear roars.
Stop, I tell him, and he replies with a stream of words: Mate Danger Kill Strangers Protect Mate.
Later, I promise him. Right now, I need to think.
I call Daisy. We quickly figure out Maisy isn’t with her, and no one has seen her since she left work.
“Meet me at your house.” I try not to sound panicked.
I shoot a text to the group chat containing all my brothers.
911. Maisy’s gone. Someone’s taken her.