Chapter 7
Elliott flips out.
Elliott ran away.
He was going insane, absolutely insane. When the pressure in his chest, the irrational anger toward his friends, and his belligerent bear became too much to handle, he gave Ben a quick warning and fled.
Out in the backyard, he blinked back at the first stars in the sky and beelined for the trees, narrowly avoiding shifting in the middle of the lawn.
He’d never had his bear so close to the surface, hammering the inside of his ribs, scratching and huffing and acting like a real asshole.
Elliott gave over to his beast and relished the familiar stretch as his body changed forms, growing to several times his human size.
He tried not to succumb to anxiety, knowing Beck was on watch in case his grizzly tried to return to Northrop.
With a dash of alpha power behind a command, Ben could bring Elliott’s beast to heel, and he would, if needed.
Elliott hadn’t gone into specifics with Ben, but he made it clear he needed to get out for a run before something stupid happened.
Something stupid had already happened. Kissing Fern at the apartment was a huge mistake. His interest in her was intense before, both his and his animal’s, but after feeling her soft body beneath him, tasting her on his lips, nuzzling into her neck—he needed more.
He never should’ve waited so long between lays. This potential bond was absurd, so much more intense given his dry spell.
His bear was furious with the way things were going and took the opportunity to posture at a tree, huffing out of frustration.
“Burn off your energy. Go,” he commanded his beast, hoping the grizzly would listen.
He seemed responsive enough to Elliott’s wishes, heading north toward the mountains, not east toward home, but it was better than nothing.
The sun-warmed forest floor was a balm to Elliott’s anxious soul as he experienced the world through his animal.
It was one of his favorite ways to go about the day; he wasn’t in charge, and he couldn’t fuck up.
His bear could. But everyone knew a shifter’s animal was a separate being.
Close and connected, sure, but a separate consciousness.
Elliott was on hiatus, and his grizzly was in control.
Whatever happened, it wasn’t his fault.
Sniffing the air incessantly, his animal picked up earth and pine, a whiff of wildflowers, and the crisp river not a mile ahead. As he settled in for a long walk around familiar territory, Elliott let himself loose on his thoughts.
What the fuck was wrong with him? He’d nearly bitten through his own cheek when Fern told Noa how beautiful she was.
He wanted the compliments. Worse still, he wanted to rip Able’s arm off when he’d touched Fern’s shoulder at the table.
When Adam gave her that birdhouse, and she grinned and thanked him, Fitz sneered so hard Ben sidled up and asked if he smelled a fart.
Everything she received was so fucking thoughtful, so perfect for her.
Then he gave her some dumb dishes. They weren’t even a matching set—on purpose because he wanted them to fit her apartment—but would anyone else know that?
No. It just looked like he grabbed some miscellaneous shit from his sales racks and chucked it in a bag.
That loaf of bread wasn’t even supposed to be for her, it was for him, but he could make another one, and he thought she might like it.
It was just a bunch of things he thought she might enjoy.
He wasn’t even brave enough to look at her when she opened his present; couldn’t have, even if he wanted to, seeing as his heart was hammering so fast he had spots in his vision.
He was so fucked.
The stars sparkled in earnest, and the moon's sliver had risen high by the time his bear decided to turn back from the foothills and amble toward civilization again. Elliott didn’t need to be worried about Able or Noa or anyone. Fern was just a gregarious person and he was overreacting.
Right?
But she smelled like Adam the first time Elliott met her, and Adam touched her at the party and made her a gift by hand. Elliott had done those things too at various times, but he had a damn good reason for it: They were potential mates.
His bear froze, clacked his teeth together, and slapped at the ground with a big paw.
No, there was no fucking way. There was no way Fern was also a potential mate of Adam Ableman’s, was there?
With a roar that rattled the aspens—or maybe that was the breeze—Elliott’s bear hit the trail hard, charging headlong toward the valley.
Another potential mate for Fern wasn’t outside of the realm of possibility. Bears were more solitary, more secretive, less reliant on the pack for direction in their decision-making compared with the wolves and many of the others. Had Able already made a move?
God, Fitz felt fucking foolish for kissing her without checking first. But she’d reacted positively, right?
He didn’t think he’d imagined it. What the hell was he going to do?
He wasn’t interested in a relationship. He didn’t want someone else in his life.
But could he handle watching Fern with Adam?
Able could give her a much more structured future.
He was wealthier, his home was nicer, he acted as a handyman for fun in his free time.
What could Elliott offer? Some bud, mismatched ceramics, fresh bread?
A bunch of bullshit, that’s what he brought to the table.
His house was small, his life was small.
Granted, he liked it that way. But could he change for Fern? Did he want to?
Halfway committed to giving up the woman he didn’t have, and half convinced he needed to fight for her, expand his online business, buy more land, build a bigger home… he spiraled. Elliott’s bear splashed downstream, nearing the top of the waterfall, while Elliott questioned his sanity.
Then he smelled it, beyond the crisp clarity of the rushing water, there were berries, jasmine, and that smooth hint of vanilla. Up on his hind legs, his grizzly inhaled again, checking the direction of her scent. It wasn’t coming from the ridge; it was rising on the updraft. She was down there.
Huffing sporadically, he took a steep path down the slope behind the Lodge, just east of the big waterfall.
Where was Fern? She had to be close. Was she at his house? Was she at the Lodge? What could she be doing down there so late?
The answer had to be Adam. Fuck! He knew it. He fucking knew it.
Able’s scent—wood and spices—mixed together with her berries, and Elliott’s bear charged down the final stretch of slope, foaming at the mouth.
Where was she? Where were they? He couldn’t let this happen. He had to stop them, scare them apart, get them to call it off.
In a state of panicked rage, Elliott spotted Adam climbing out of his truck, his dark hair popping up over the roof when his feet hit the driveway.
Elliott’s bear gnashed his teeth and swung wide around the back of the vehicle. Able spun, tossed his hands up, and stepped back as Elliott’s out-of-control animal bore down, slow and steady, huffing all the way.
“Stop dude! Stop!” Elliott pleaded with his grizzly. Oh, he’d lost it, for sure, but he was sane enough to know his animal needed to get the fuck out of there before Fern spotted him and lost her absolute mind.
“Stop, dude! Stop!” Able shouted, waving his hands in the air and retreating.
“See!” he screamed at his bear, who was focused on one thing: Fern’s and Adam’s scents commingling. His grizzly finally stopped long enough to drop his head low and fold his ears back, a clear sign of a challenge.
“Jesus, fuck!” were the last words out of Adam’s mouth before he shifted forms and snapped his jaws, not a moment too soon.
They met face to face, each rumbling low and steady as their open mouths clashed. Elliott’s grizzly may have swung the first paw, but they rose in tandem, arms grasping at each other’s shoulders, mouths foaming. In a lumbering dance, they grappled, until tumbling down to the water’s edge.
Able’s bear got on his feet first, trudging off to take the fight across the river to the land near Elliott’s house.
“Shift back, shift back, shift. I need to talk to him, not fight him.”
His bear didn’t give a shit. But Fern’s scent was less potent now. Had she been in the truck? Was she still there?
On the far bank, his grizzly looked back to sniff the air, seeking her. If Adam would only shift, Elliott could sniff him and see just how much he smelled like Fern.
Panting, Able’s bear approached, and the animals snapped at one another.
“Please, dude. Give me control,” Elliott begged, trying to force himself back into the metaphorical driver’s seat.
With open jaws, they met again, spinning in slow torture, both breaking skin as they bit into each other’s shoulders.
Fern’s scent was hardly in the air. It would be more intense if she’d spent a while with Adam. Surely, if she were over in the truck, she’d have jumped out to watch what went down.
“She’s not here, shift back. Please, dude. Please,” he all but whimpered in his bear’s mind, feeling the pain through his ursine outer shell.
Finally, his grizzly loosened his grip on Able’s and—fucking luckily—Adam’s bear let go too. Panting, they both backed off. Able watched him warily, both man and bear, he assumed.
Flopping to his belly, Fitz’s bear blinked at Adam’s, waiting for him to match his posture and confirm the fight was finished. He went down too, and Elliott finally shifted back.
Rolling his neck, he stretched and grabbed his clothes when they popped up next to him, catching a glimpse of Adam’s naked leg as they both pulled on pants.
With his bear’s back ripped up by teeth, his human skin was on fire, though nothing showed on his physical form. Adam would feel just as bad—maybe worse. Still, they'd heal quickly. Shifters always did.
“What the fuck was that, bro?” Adam asked, still panting.