I step closer, nudging him lightly with my shoulder.
He laughs softly, running a hand along my fur.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs.
And just like that—something in my chest melts.
Because no one has ever looked at me—human or Bear—and made me feel like that.
Not once.
Until him.
I huff as I approach, bumping him with my ursine head.
His grin turns feral.
“Impatient are you? Alright, Cookie. Here I come.”
Then he shifts.
And it’s—breathtaking.
There’s no other word for it.
One second he’s Rob.
The next—he’s his enormous Tiger.
Striped muscle, and power, and grace.
A Tiger built for dominance and survival and something wild and untamed.
And he’s mine.
My Bear doesn’t hesitate.
She bolts.
I take off through the trees, paws pounding the earth, wind rushing through my fur as I weave between trunks and leap over fallen branches.
Behind me—I hear him.
Feel him.
The heavy, powerful rhythm of his stride as he gives chase.
Not hunting.
Playing.
A dance.
A game of run and hide that sends exhilaration surging through me.
I duck behind a cluster of trees, crouching low, trying to mask my scent, my heart racing in the best way.
Silence.
