“A man.”
“Yes.”
He narrowed his eyes until he saw just her eyes. “It will not work now.”
She winced. “Yeah, I’m getting that.”
“I control this territory. As a bear or a man, I control it. You cannot win here.”
He held her gaze until her eyes dipped in submission. And at that moment, he felt both human and bear ease inside his mind. The man knew it was an illusion. Dominance, control, even leadership could be stripped away in a moment. And then where was the animal’s prowess? The man’s control? Gone.
A memory flickered in his mind: the reason he had run to the UP and become a bear for ten months. It was because of his need for control. The man knew it to be impossible lie. No one controlled everything. But the bear lived in ignorance. And so he had escaped to the only place where he could believe in his own dominance.
Except now she was here. She forced him back into that uncertain reality where he could not always win. Snowstorms whipped up early. Secrets got out. And commanding officers bounced his ass out of the military.
His gaze dropped to his boots, both hating and loving the familiar feel. Military-issue boots for a man who no longer commanded.
“Okay,” Alyssa said, her voice gentle. “What’s next on the protocol?”
He didn’t have an answer. Not until he looked up from his boots and saw something metal on his dresser. He hadn’t noticed it before, but now it seemed to call him.
Computer. And beside it, his phone.
“I need to turn on my computer.”
“You can do that in the car.”
He ignored her. But just as he reached for his laptop, a folded brochure slipped to the floor. His gaze followed it.
A flyer for pizza.
His stomach rumbled. He was always hungry after a shift. Either from bear to man or the reverse, food was always a need.
“I should order pizza.” He had no real desire for the food. In fact, the picture on the flyer was unappetizing. But it was the next step on his list. That’s why it had been set there at eye level after he put on his boots.
“Burgers are faster.” Alyssa said as she stepped farther into the room. “And burgers have more meat.”
He was holding the flyer trying to make sense of the tiny rows of words. Damn it. It would take him a bit to remember how to read. The knowledge made him impatient and his words curt.
“That’s not protocol.”
He was staring at the words, willing them to make sense. Come on. Come on. Read, damn it!
Then suddenly a brown hand appeared over the text and gently pushed the flyer away. His gaze shot up to hers, anger churning. It was his bear, pouring other resentments into a growl, and her eyes widened at the sound. But she didn’t back away. Though fear spiked in her scent, she held her gaze steady.
“You’re not in the army anymore. Food isn’t protocol. You’re getting hangry.”
Hell. Now he wasn’t hearing right. “Hangry” wasn’t a word, was it? And the confusion had his bear rearing up inside him, ready for a fight. He held it back with a mental glare and tried again to slam the cage door. No go. But the beast didn’t surge forward, either.
Which meant he had to continue his checklist until he had a better handle on his bear.
“There is a process,” he said slowly, every word distinct. “Wash. Dry. Underwear. Jeans.” He pointed to his drawers in order. “Shirt, socks, boots.” He pulled the flyer from underneath her hand. “Read.” Then he growled, “Read!” as if he could order his brain to assimilate the symbols.
He was looking at the paper, so he didn’t see the change in her expression. Not until she touched his cheek and forced his gaze up to hers. Her brown eyes were serious as she spoke, the tone without nuances, and for that he was grateful.
“I can help. I can read it for you.”
“No.” Didn’t she understand? He needed to come back to human. She couldn’t do that for him. It was a path he had to walk by himself or be trapped as neither one nor the other. Not a bear, and definitely not a whole man.
