Bear Attraction

  The visions wouldn’t stay out of his head. With her next to him, filling the space with her warmth and spice, the images multiplied. Rebecca arching back, her bare breast lifting toward a mouth—his mouth, he realized. The man with his hands all over Rebecca in Walker’s daydream looked exactly like himself.

  Shit. Walker desperately conjured thoughts of freezing rain, desert winds in winter, cold baths out of his army helmet in places with no hot water . . .

  Shifters could scent changes in body temperature and pheromones. If Rebecca realized that Walker was growing needier by the second, this would fall apart fast. She wouldn’t even have to scent it. Walker stood right next to her, and all she’d have to do was turn her head to see how hard he was.

  “Poor kid,” Rebecca said softly.

  Walker jerked his attention back to the files. Rebecca held a photo of Nancy, one taken at a Shifter bar. Nancy’s face was painted with cat whiskers, the tip of her nose black, and fake cat ears stuck out of her thick brown hair. She wore a skimpy, leopard-spotted dress that barely covered her. Nancy smiled broadly at the camera, a beer in her hand, a thick male arm draped around her neck.

  “Looks like she’s having a good time,” Walker remarked.

  “Too good. Shifters who like groupies just use them.” Rebecca shook her head. “They won’t take them as mates. That’s what humans don’t understand.”

  Walker frowned. “What exactly don’t we understand? Explain it to me.”

  Rebecca flashed Walker a look he couldn’t decipher. “Shifters are geared to mate and have cubs. That’s what we’re driven to do. Mating carries on our families, our clans, our species. So we like sex, and we don’t stop ourselves.”

  “But sex doesn’t necessarily mean mating for life,” Walker said.

  “No, it’s just frenzy. Shifters understand this, and we don’t worry too much about unmated Shifters having lots of sex. But what we really want—what we crave deep down inside ourselves—is the mate bond.”

  Walker took the chair beside her. “I’ve heard that, though no one has really explained it to me. It’s like a soul-mate thing?”

  “It’s a little more complicated than that. It’s a joining.” Rebecca put her hand to her heart, between her ample breasts. “Like invisible tethers that run between the male and female Shifter, binding them together. But it doesn’t necessarily always happen. Like I said, we’re driven to pair up and have cubs. Mother Nature doesn’t care if we form the bond, as long as we have the cubs. So two Shifters can go through the actual ceremony but never experience the true mate bond. That doesn’t happen often anymore, but it’s pretty sad when it does. Those Shifters have a family—cubs—but there’s always something missing.”

  “Like humans marrying for money and then realizing they have an empty relationship.”

  “I guess. I don’t know much about humans, but that sounds close.” She looked puzzled. “Humans marry for money? Why?”

  “I don’t know. Survival. If you’re human, you either have to work your ass off or find someone to take care of you. I never cared about money, so I never really thought about it.”

  Rebecca’s frown eased away. “So what do you care about?”

  Walker lined up the few photos of Nancy. “Doing my job well. Helping people as much as I can. Sleeping at night.”

  “With nothing on your conscience?”

  “Something like that.”

  Rebecca lowered her head to her folded arms, looking up at him, her hair spilling around her face. “You slept well at night in war zones? Where people were killing other people?”

  “I was a medic. I went deep behind the lines and got medical attention to those who’d never have had it otherwise.”

  Rebecca batted her eyelashes. “What a hero.”

  “Huh. And don’t look virtuous and tell me Shifters are never violent. I’ve been to the fight club.”

  Rebecca’s head came up, her eyes flashing. “We go to the fight club because we aren’t allowed to run off our aggression.” She jabbed at the black and silver Collar around her throat. “We have to wear these, and be confined to Shiftertowns, because humans are too stupid to understand Shifters. We fight, sure, but we don’t make devices that kill massive amounts of people just to prove we can.”

  Walker lifted his hands. “How about we stop the conversation right there?”

  “Right, stop it when I’m making a good point.”

  “Stop it, and go back to what we’re supposed to be discussing. I agree about the Collars—humans put them on you because they’re afraid of you. Shifters have a lot of honor. They also can be incredibly destructive, so don’t pretend humans have the monopoly on violence.”

  Rebecca glared at him. “I thought we were finished with the conversation.”

  “We are. I just wanted to have the last word.”

  Walker hoped to make her laugh, but her brown eyes were filled with anger.

  “I said ‘poor kid’ about Nancy because humans weren’t fulfilling her,” Rebecca snapped. “She had to try to find happiness with Shifters.”

  “That’s not what you meant.” Walker touched the picture of Nancy smiling at them. “You meant she wouldn’t find happiness with Shifters because they’d be looking for mates and the mate bond, but are happy to use her for plain old sex.”

  Her eyes flickered, and Walker knew he was right. “Shifters can form the mate bond with humans,” Rebecca said, as though determined to argue with him, no matter what. “Look at Liam and Kim. Ronan and Elizabeth. Hell, Tiger and Carly. And Tiger’s halfway to insane.”

  “A human woman is probably what Tiger needs then,” Walker said. “Then again, sweet little Carly wrapped me in duct tape and let Tiger dump me into the trunk of her car.”

  Rebecca’s angry look softened. “Yeah, I like Carly.” A smile pulled at her mouth. “I noticed you slipped out of that duct tape without much problem. And then picked your way out of handcuffs. You don’t stay down.”

  “Nope.” Walker straightened the pictures again, trying not to remember again how Rebecca had stripped off all her clothes in her effort to keep him down.

  Rebecca abruptly shoved the file away. “I can’t do this.”

  “Sure you can. If we sift through the information long enough, it will lead us to something.”

  Her glare returned. “No, I mean, sit here with you. I was tranqued, locked up, threatened, put under house arrest, and had to chase after an unruly bear in his Transition. I don’t like to be confined.” She scraped back her chair and got to her feet. “Seriously, it makes me crazy.”

  “Claustrophobia?”

  “Maybe a little.” Rebecca rubbed her arms, shoulders coming up, body shuddering. “I grew up in wide-open spaces. Sticking a Kodiak bear in a city is pretty stupid.”

  She started pacing, and Walker observed her quietly. He thought he knew what she felt—sometimes in the field, especially in dangerous, dangerous places, the confinement to a compound or a hiding place behind the lines could make a guy stir-crazy.

  He rested his arms on the table as he watched, as though relaxed, but he was ready to stop her rushing out the door if he had to.

  “Spar?” he asked.

  Rebecca halted, pivoting to look at him. “What?”

  “Do you spar?” Walker asked. “To make yourself feel better?”

  “Yeah.” Rebecca looked puzzled. “Sometimes. With Ronan.”

  Walker stood, straightened the file, and walked to the door. “Come on, then,” he said, and stepped outside into the cool night.

  Chapter Seven

  Rebecca blinked for a stunned few seconds, then she hurried after him.

  Walker waited for her, his pale hair a smudge, his black T-shirt blending into the darkness. Inside the Den, lamplight had touched tanned arms, the muscles under his scarred skin beckoning her gaze. Walker was a fine specimen, no argument.

  The wind was rising, but only a little, the storm hanging out on the horizon debating whether to strike. The
wind ruffled Walker’s T-shirt as he bent to unlace his boots and pull them off.

  Rebecca studied the lithe lines of his back, the play of his shoulders and hips as he performed the simple task. He pulled off socks as well and straightened up, his brows rising as he found her standing next to him, gazing at him. Rebecca quickly toed off her sneakers, stepping barefoot into the grass.

  Grass in Texas could be tricky, she’d learned her first summer. Stickers and chiggers abounded to gorge on bare flesh. Ronan, however, made sure their lawn was trimmed back and planted over every fall, and now it was a soft pad of winter rye. The thin green spikes of grass poked up between Rebecca’s toes, tickling them.

  Walker stood relaxed, weight even on both feet. He gave her a nod—ready.

  So he wanted to spar with a bear, did he? Rebecca didn’t wait for him to set up a series of moves. She went for him.

  He expertly caught her roundhouse kick, wrapped both hands around her ankle, and pushed her back. Rebecca hopped to regain her balance, wrenching her foot free of his grip. Walker didn’t give her time to recover—he followed her with thrusts of fists she barely blocked.

  Rebecca spun out of reach, then darted around him in a sudden move. She leapt at him, ready to thump both fists to his shoulders, then whirl away and finish up with a good kick to his kidneys.

  Walker ducked, caught her, and used Rebecca’s momentum to shove her harmlessly aside. She never touched him.

  Rebecca halted and faced him, breathing hard. Damn, she must be getting soft. Sparring with Ronan and Scott should have made her more than a match for a human, even a combat-trained one. But either Ronan wasn’t working her hard enough, or Walker was simply that good.

  Walker didn’t let her rest. He came for her, ducking when she took a defensive swing, and got under her reach. Rebecca found warm, virile muscle against her, a tall, hard body that wouldn’t stop until it won.

  Walker slid his foot behind hers, and before she could jerk away, Rebecca was falling, the ground rushing up to her. She landed on her back, cushioned by his arms, his face an inch from hers.

  His blue eyes glittered in the moonlight, a smile touching his mouth. “You’re good,” he said. “Too bad I was trained to fight people trying to silently kill me. You’re just playing.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Rebecca started to roll, but he rolled with her, and she found herself flat on her back again, still pinned.

  “If you were really trying to hurt me, your Collar would go off,” Walker said, his voice rumbling against her chest. His hands were on her wrists, pushing them into the soft grass.

  “We’re sparring,” Rebecca said, hearing the crack in her voice. “Working off steam.”

  Walker held her firmly but didn’t crush her with his weight, exactly how he’d do it if they were in bed. Rebecca’s breath came fast, and he must feel her pulse galloping under his fingers.

  “If the fight club let females compete,” he said, “you’d win.”

  Rebecca grinned, her fighting spirit returning. “Yeah, I’d kick Spike’s ass.”

  “Could be—”

  Walker’s words cut off as Rebecca surged up, her legs clamped around his, and rolled them both over. Walker landed on his back with a grunt.

  Rebecca planned to come to her feet and dance away, but her momentum was ripped away by Walker’s strong grip, and she kept rolling. She landed on her back—oof—with Walker, tight and strong, on top of her once more.

  His scent filled her, melting away every hurt she had. He smelled of warmth and the night, power and man. Rebecca’s fingers closed on the back of his loose pants, but not to throw him off her. His warm, firm backside was smooth beneath the cloth, and she wanted to grab on and not let go.

  She had to get away from him before she did something stupid. Rebecca struggled, but Walker held her firmly in place.

  She took a gasping breath, pretending he scared her. As a male, Walker should immediately release her, declare he hadn’t meant to hurt her, help her to her feet, apologize.

  Walker’s smile broadened. “Sweetheart, I’ve fought women who tried to play frightened rabbit so they could reach for the nearest hand grenade. Or put a garrote around my neck.”

  Rebecca stilled, aghast. “Seriously?”

  “Women make good assassins. Most men underestimate them.”

  “But not you,” Rebecca said.

  His grin went wicked. “Nope.”

  “You’re not a gentleman then.”

  “Not when I’m fighting for my life, no.”

  Rebecca, who’d gone limp while he’d held her, smiled back at him. “All right. If you want to play dirty . . .”

  She relaxed and let the Kodiak bear in her come. Her hands changed to giant paws with long claws—she moved them so the claws wouldn’t rip straight into Walker’s skin. Her body changed and grew, splitting the sweats she wore.

  Rebecca was good at shifting—she could control which parts of her changed first. Many Shifters couldn’t; they simply had to let nature take over. But Rebecca’s face could remain human, while her limbs took on the strength and agility of a bear’s.

  Walker made an unh sound as Rebecca flipped him easily onto his back, her bear paws landing on his shoulders. Walker struggled with all his strength, but no man could out-wrestle a Kodiak, unless the Kodiak let him.

  Rebecca scrambled off him and sprang to her feet, letting her bear come all the way. She rose to her full height, growling and rumbling under her breath. No sparks lit her Collar, because she had no wish to kill Walker. Just scare him a little.

  Walker jumped to his feet in a sinuous move, the guy in great fighting shape. He stood with hands on hips, an amused expression on his face. “You’re right, that’s playing dirty.”

  Rebecca growled again, lifting her muzzle, and then she shifted back to human, letting her bear flow down until she stood once more on human feet. The sweats were in shreds on the grass, starlight and the remote storm’s breeze touching her skin.

  “I play to win,” Rebecca told him.

  “I see that.” Walker’s gaze took in her entire body. He didn’t shuffle and get embarrassed; he blatantly stared. “Guess what, Becks.” His voice went soft. “I play to win too.”

  He came at her in a blur of motion. Rebecca scrambled back, fending off kicks from his bare feet, blows from his fists, his body never in one space for more than a second.

  Rebecca ended up pushed against the corner between porch and house, deep in shadow. Walker’s warmth embraced her, the cloth of his T-shirt soft on her breasts.

  His face was an inch from hers, his breath on her skin. His eyes glinted in the dim light, his hand pressed to the wall next to her head.

  I play to win too. The words echoed in her head.

  Walker had said men underestimated female assassins, but Rebecca had underestimated him. She’d decided to tease him, to teach him a lesson, and here she was, standing against him, stark naked, while he simply looked at her and held all the cards.

  Rebecca closed her hands into fists, trying to still her rapid heartbeat. She could kiss him, take the mouth that was hovering so near hers. Surrender.

  It wouldn’t be much of a surrender. More like relief.

  Walker did nothing. He didn’t try to kiss her, touch her, take her down, gloat. He only looked at her, his gaze tangling with hers, his scent warm and embracing in the cool darkness.

  They stood still, breath mingling, his body warming her. Inside the house, the television went on, Olaf watching his favorite shows, most of which he still didn’t understand. Cherie yelled something at Scott, and Scott said, “Yeah, yeah.” Coby gurgled, and Elizabeth answered in a sweet peal of laughter.

  Outside, Walker and Rebecca were perfectly silent, perfectly still, while the night went on around them.

  Walker’s gaze swept over her again, then he abruptly pushed himself from the wall.

  “Get some sleep, Becks,” he said, as cool as if they were standing in the middle of a coffeehouse, not Rebecca
naked and against him in the yard. “We’ll start on the case in the morning.”

  He walked away. Just like that. Cornered her, made her shake with need, then left her.

  “Walker.” She went after him.

  He turned. “What?”

  Rebecca reached him. She couldn’t leave it like this. Not as though fire hadn’t slammed through her, not as though she hadn’t been craving him since he’d pointed the tranq gun at her last night.

  But she stood tongue-tied, not knowing what to say. Rebecca, who could confound any male with her teasing and innuendo, couldn’t think of a single word.

  She reached out and ran a finger across his cheek. Rough whiskers brushed her fingertip.

  A muscle moved in Walker’s jaw, his eyes flickering. She saw a flash of heat, like lightning in dry grasslands, then he dampened it—swiftly, deliberately.

  Rebecca lowered her hand. “Good night,” she said softly.

  Walker swallowed. He studied her again, eyes filling with more fire. He didn’t try to touch her or kiss her, but he didn’t run away either.

  “Good night,” he said, his voice blending with the night.

  He didn’t move, waiting for her to turn away first. Rebecca drew a breath, stepped back, scooped up the torn sweats from the grass, and hurried to the porch. Holding the clothes in front of her to cover herself under the porch light, she looked back down to him, ready to say good night again.

  Walker was gone. Nothing in the yard betrayed he’d ever been there, except for the gleam of his pickup in the driveway, and the lingering sound of a door slamming as he vanished back into the Den.

  ***

  Broderick lived in the middle of Shiftertown in a two-story bungalow with a spreading yard shadowed by tall, thick trees. A lanky Shifter lounged on the porch steps, an adult, but one not much past cub age, maybe a year older than Scott.

  The Shifter climbed rapidly to his feet when he saw Walker approaching, Rebecca at his side.

  “Brod!” he yelled. “It’s the she-bear and that guy from Shifter Bureau.”

  Walker stopped at the edge of the grass, knowing from experience that walking into a Shifter’s yard without his permission was a good way to get attacked. Most Shifters wouldn’t dream of attacking a man attached to the bureau, but Walker liked to show respect. Plus, Broderick was one of the few who’d not worry about confronting him.