Chapter 20
He should be home by now.
Someone knocks on the front door. My insides solidify.
Only very few people know we live up here, out in the icy wilderness.
We don’t have neighbors, and Derek wouldn’t knock.
I contemplate staying still and pretending no one’s home, but if someone is knocking, it must be for a reason.
I shuffle on socked feet over the hardwood floors to the front door, peeking through the peephole.
I exhale, swinging the door open. “Gerald, I totally forgot it was mail day.”
His smile shines and the lines around his eyes crinkle. “That’s the start of winter for ya, the days bleed together.”
“Yeah, I’ve realized that.” I rub my arms, the cold permeating through my sweater. I could hurry this conversation to escape the weather, but it’s not often that I actually get human interaction, especially now that it takes so much effort to shovel snow to get into the town half an hour away.
“How you kids doing up here?” Gerald asks, peeking behind me into the cabin.
“We’re good! He’s out fishing on the glacier right now.”
He shakes his head, “Man, he’s like a wild animal with those fish. You two have quite an operation for so few hands.”
I laugh. “He’s pretty skilled, that’s for sure.”
“Well, how’s business going? I tried some of the dill pickled salmon with lunch yesterday, and boy was it delicious.”
“Oh, that’s so good to hear. Business has been good! I’ve just been busy marketing and packaging online orders.” I drag the large box from the wall nearest me, pushing it closer to Gerald, who scoops it up.
“And I saw that they’re stocking all your pickled salmon flavors at the general store now!”
“Yeah, apparently they already sold out, so we have to run down there to give them another crate soon.”
“That’s great. So great to hear.” He takes a step back, examining the front of our house, the heavy box still in his hands. “I see you painted. Love the robin egg blue.”
I chuckle. “You sure have an eye for detail. Thank you. We just got it done last weekend. There’s a bunch of tiny projects, but we’re slowly getting through them.”
“You sure are. This place looks almost nothing like it did when you moved in. What is it now, a month ago?”
“It’s been almost three now.”
“No kidding.” He shakes his head. “Well, time flies. But hey, I should get going. Cheryl’s making meatloaf for dinner tonight, and I don’t want to get a cold serving. Tell Ken I said bye.”
“I will.” I wave as he walks down the front porch steps.
He stops mid-step. “Oops, I almost forgot! I’ve got a letter for you.” He returns up the porch and hands me the white envelope. I read the name written in the left corner and smile. “Thanks, Gerald.”
“No problem, Lucy. Have a great weekend!”
Even after three months, hearing my fake name always startles me a bit. Behind the wooden walls of our cozy cabin in the Icelandic wilderness, I’m still Isabella, but to the sparse people we come in contact with, I’m Lucy.
I shut the door, tear open the envelope, and scan the curly handwriting, my smile growing bigger with each word. “No fucking way!” I scream to the empty cabin. “I knew it!”
Chrishell and Rachel are dating. The news is shared with a Polaroid of them kissing. Of course they were in love with each other. It explains so much. If anyone knows how repressed feelings can affect the way a person behaves, it’s me.
Chrishell wasn’t always a great friend to me, but she was still a friend.
It didn’t feel right how I left things—screaming that I was fucking my stepbrother in the grocery store before disappearing off the face of the earth.
I wanted to explain things, let her know that I appreciated her friendship, where it was given, and that I was in a better place now.
Besides, I needed to know what was going on in Deep River after Darrell’s death and our swift exit.
I shared my secret identity but never disclosed my address.
Besides, we don't get the mail up here like normal people anyway.
We cut a deal with Gerald from the town post office to bring us our mail once a week.
I’d be a lot more nervous about our safety if I didn't have Chrishell to let me know that the police didn’t suspect I was the cause of Darrell’s death.
Of course, Derek was ruled a suspect at the beginning, especially since Lewis’s attack was only the day before.
But upon the autopsy report, the cause of death was from an animal attack.
There was no reason to believe Derek could have inflicted the injuries on either my stepfather or my ex-boyfriend.
Apparently, the whole town started a hunt to find the beast. The operation was led by my mother, of course.
I guess she cared more about her reputation than avenging her husband's death.
Having to admit your stepson was a bear-shifter and her daughter ran away with him is far worse than living with the secret of the truth.
Chrishell told me Mom told everyone I joined the Peace Corps.
I laughed at that one. What I didn’t laugh at was when Chrishell informed me that my mother had already moved on and had a new boyfriend slinking about the house.
Oh, I couldn’t give a shit who my mom was fucking, in a normal situation, but since it happens to be my dick of an ex-boyfriend, now that just makes me that much more thankful I never have to see the woman again.
I guess the interest in taboo relationships runs in the family.
It’s clear that there’s no threat to keep us in the Icelandic forest, and we could return home with our true identities if we liked, but the idea didn’t appeal to us.
I skim the rest of the letter—more about how she left her fiancé, and how she and Rachel are planning to leave Deep River and start a new life together.
Apparently, I set in motion the chain of events.
Well, look at that, fucking my stepbrother turned out to be beneficial for more than just me.
Speaking of the bastard…I scan the cottage, remembering I’m here alone.
I can’t tell the time with the whole persistent darkness, but the clock on my desk reads close to 5:30. He should be home by now.
Something hits the window, I scream and scamper to see what it was. Nothing is there except a dent in the blanket of snow. I stare out into the white-capped wilderness, the darkened woods revealing no secrets. A tiny rock flies across the space and hits the window again. I scream.
Rocks don’t just get up and throw themselves.
Someone is fucking with me, and I have a good idea who it is.
I grumble as I throw my coat and boots on and swing open the front door.
The wind has picked up, and I shield my gaze with my hand as I search around our property.
There’s no movement—no noise but the howling wind.
“It’s fucking cold,” I mumble as I trudge closer to the woods. “Okay, you can come out now,” I yell, hands on my hips.
No answer. A low growl rumbles from seemingly all around me. Terror takes hold. It’s so dark, and although I suspect the culprit of the looming presence, I can’t be sure.
“Fuck this,” I turn to go back inside, but stumble and trip, falling to the ground.
The growling grows closer. My lizard brain instincts kick in, and I struggle to jump to my feet, running without planning where I’m going.
I don’t slow down, an impending dread raising the hairs on the back of my neck.
Before I realize it, I’ve forced myself into the dark woods, the opposite direction of our cottage, the place I should have run to.
I’m losing speed, stumbling over my heavy boots.
I turn to my left to see a furry mass barreling through the forest next to me.
I spit out a laugh, propelling myself further.
I don’t know why I’m trying so hard. I’m already exhausted, and it’s not like I’m going to win this game.
The dense foliage opens into a clearing.
The figure doesn’t follow me out into the open.
I stop, catching my breath and backing away toward the center.
I look up for a moment, catching the sky, a sea of purple and greens.
“Wow!” It’s not my first time seeing the northern lights, but it’s still so stunningly beautiful that it steals my focus.
The moment of distraction becomes my demise as I’m flung to the ground by a mass of brown fur. I don’t think I’ll ever stop being terrified in the presence of my bear mate Derek, or Ken, as the few people in Iceland know him.
My chest heaves as he licks his chops, his clawed paws holding my arms down, just one minuscule movement away from ripping my skin. “What are you doing?” I yell, finding my nerve.
His face shifts, gone is the terrifying beast, and in its place is a slightly less terrifying beast—definitely more handsome though.
“Playing with my food.” He starts by sniffing down my neck, pulling open my thick jacket, and exposing my loose sweater to the elements.
He moves through the thin fabric easily, the scruff from his face tickling my skin.
“Speaking of food. Where’s the fish?”
“Dropped it.” He kisses my throat.
“Derek! We need those for orders!”
He shrugs. “I saw something tastier.” He has transformed his hand, which has found its way under the waistband of my sweatpants.
I whimper, ceasing my useless resistance.
“My mate, you’re so wet for me.” His fingers part me, strumming me softly. “God, am I starved.” With one swift yank, he pulls my pants and panties off my body.
I yelp, my ass stinging from the cold beneath me. Derek hangs my legs over his shoulder, falling to his elbows, and licks his lips with an inhumanly long tongue—a bear tongue, in fact. He covers all of me with one swipe, the rough texture of his mouth causing me to cry out before he’s even started.