Chapter 11
Hank watched her rush to the bathroom. His gaze held on the way her bottom twitched as she moved. He inhaled her scent and listened to the sounds of water as she washed. And he had to fight his bear to remain still in the bedroom, simply absorbing Dr. Cecilia Lu through all his senses without actively stalking her.
He waited an extra long time. He held himself still and breathed, hoping the desperate need to be with her would fade. It didn’t. And that was how he knew he was well and truly fucked.
His bear had bound itself to her.
Why her, when she was a scientist, the one person guaranteed to fight everything he was? Not just his bear, but the fact that he was a poor man with little education. She was a good girl with a PhD and a string of specialties behind her name. Words he hadn’t even known before he’d looked her up on the Internet. What exactly did an epidemiologist do? He hadn’t a clue. Virology, he guessed, was about viruses. But then he’d linked over to one of her papers. He hadn’t been able to understand the title, much less the contents of the paper.
And he was a big black army medic turned muscle for a Detroit grizzly clan.
He blew out a breath and closed his eyes. He needed to find his balance point. Some way to settle into a Zen calm that would allow him to sort through his feelings dispassionately. Instead, he thought of her white lab coat that hid a wild tunic of blinding colors underneath. He thought of the way she’d fought him in his truck, screaming and kicking when most others would have given up. And then the way she’d lit up with excitement at the idea of examining the hybrid bodies. She was smart, fought like a demon though she had no training, and rolled with the punches like a regular street kid.
He liked her. If they had met in the normal course of life, he would have enjoyed her company while they shared a burger or went to a movie. He would probably have asked her out for a date and allowed things to progress in the normal way.
But he wasn’t normal in any sense of the word. “Muscle for the Griz” wasn’t exactly something to put on a tax return. And he sure as hell couldn’t tell that to a woman with multiple PhDs. The two of them didn’t fit and they weren’t going to have a future after the crisis was over.
So why in the hell was his bear determined to have her? Her and no other? Because no matter what Simon had said, Hank had bonded to Cecilia. He would pursue her, watch her, dream about her, and most likely stalk her for the rest of his life. It wasn’t something he could control, and it wasn’t something she could stop.
She was about to come out of the bathroom, so he straightened and went into the hallway. He ordered himself to leave. She was coming downstairs to see the werewolves. He could wait for her there.
He didn’t. He leaned against the wall until she emerged. Her face was pink and wet from a fresh scrubbing. Her hair was pulled back in a ruthless ponytail, and her colorful tunic over black leggings was smooth as if she’d just gotten it from a laundromat. Her lab coat was back in the bedroom, and he wondered if she wanted it. It would please his bear to give it to her, though he preferred this brighter, less professional attire.
She pulled up short as she saw him waiting for her. He guessed she would nod at him and rush past. It’s what most women did in his presence. Instead, she gestured to him.
“Are you going to put on a shirt?”
He shook his head. He didn’t bother explaining that it was downstairs, and she was upstairs. He hadn’t been able to force himself to grab it despite the fact that he’d walked right past it to get her tea.
She folded her arms and mimicked his pose as she leaned against the frame of the bathroom door. “You just like standing there looking all big, bad, and hot?”
Yes. If she thought he looked hot.
Then she frowned. “Wait. The werewolves are coming. You don’t want another piece of clothing interfering if you have to go grizzly. Right?”
He shook his head. “I went bear last night. Won’t be able to shift again until tomorrow.” And that was assuming he got some more rest.
“Really?” Her eyes brightened, and she straightened up. “Is that normal? How often can others shift? Are bears different? What about the wolves? And the hybrids?”
His lips twitched. She was like a kid in a video game store with her questions. Which character can do what and how often?
“Faster than normal, some as little as once a year. Wolves can go more often, though that might be hype. Cats won’t tell anyone shit, though we think they’re similar to wolves. As for the hybrids?” He shrugged. “Looks like they can do it whenever they want. One of their advantages.” He quirked a brow. “The smell being a distinct disadvantage. At least from Vic’s perspective.”
She took a step forward. He loved that. All he had to do was answer some questions, and she went from running away to eagerly standing beside him. “Who’s Vic?”
“Simon’s beta. He’s a hybrid. One of the few who stayed sane. Alan’s another. He’s with the Gladwins.”
“That’s because the change seems to destroy the frontal cortex. But not for this Vic? Or Alan? Can I meet them?”
“Yes—” he began, but then he cut off his words, holding up his hand to quiet her as he sniffed the air. “They’re coming,” he said in a low voice.
Her eyes widened, and she started to head downstairs. He stopped her by pressing his hand into her belly in a quick block. It wasn’t meant to be anything more than a gesture to stop her, but the moment his hand connected, his mind was flooded by sensations. The softness he felt there, the joy of being able to freely caress a place so vulnerable, the sweetness of her gasp, and the visceral memories of what they’d done the night before. It all surged through him, hard and fast. His nostrils flared and his dick throbbed.
But that’s all that he did. And when she turned to quirk an eyebrow at him, he shook his head. “Stay behind me.”
She nodded slowly. “Werewolves not so tame?”
“No shifter is tame. Don’t ever forget that.”
