“Thank you,” she said to my feet. Her voice cracked with gratitude. “It’s been a long year. And you have no idea what this means to me.”
No. She was the one who had no idea. Forget her talking aboutnotasking for support. She didn’t realize she’d just handed us the perfect opportunity to baby trap her. And I felt exactly zero remorse about it.
Conscience wasn’t something I had when it came to her. I’d do anything—anything—to keep her.
But this time Cal wasn’t on the same page. “Wait, wait. I’m all in, but there’s something you should know.”
We both turned our heads toward him. Her with a curious look. Me with a silent curse.
Guess my twin wasn’t nearly as without a conscience as me.
“We’re bears,” he blurted. “That’s the missing piece I didn’t tell you. Our family, the town, your best friend—we’re all bear shifters. Which means if my brother and I impregnate you—even without a bond bite—your baby would become a bear. Maybe you, too.”
He shifted awkwardly in his Blundstones. “I don’t know much about human-to-bear biology outside of bonding. That’s the bite thing male bears do when we want to turn a human.”
She stared at him for several long seconds. “Is this like the you’re ‘identical twins’ thing?” she asked gently in that same soft teacher voice she’d probably used on our ten-year-old nephew,Wabby. “I don’t want to diagnose you, but it kind of sounds like maybe you two are suffering from some sort of shared delus?—”
“Aw, hell. Just show her, Cal,” I said before she could finish gaslighting us about our very nature.
I never commanded my twin. But I guess his biology never forgot that I was older by ten minutes.
One moment, Cal was sheepish and awkward. The next, he beared out just his head. Leaving her staring up at a man with a red grizzly’s face and wide, apologetic eyes.
“Oh my gosh!” she gasped, stumbling backward like any human would.
But she didn’t get far before hitting my chest.
Keeping it honest, I jumped at the chance to catch her by the shoulders. To steady her—without letting her feel the raging erection pressed against my jeans. Any excuse. I’d take any excuse to touch her.
But once she was steady, I had to ask her the only question that mattered now….
“Still wanna make a baby with us?”
are you living the dream?
. . .
lark
Okay…
Okay…
Oh. Oh. Kay.
Let’s review again.
As it turned out, this town wasn’t some kind of weird polycule cult.
More like one of those “why choose” shifter romance novels—which I’d seen at the Book Boyfriends: Vancouver romance conference Holly and I went to last year.
But I hadn’t stopped at any of the tables to actually pick one up.
And now Ireallywished I had—before agreeing to sleep with two apparent bear shifters, with less hesitation than Past Me would have guessed if this situation had been presented as a hypothetical.
Possibly because they were so face-meltingly hot, they could’ve featured on one of those covers.
We made our way out of the empty bar and grill, and with a tall bear shifter on either side of me, walked past an intimidating array of signs warning all non–Bear Mountain residents to keep out.
