She stood up, picking up their dirty dishes and carrying them to the sink. Her mouth was pursed as she moved, her expression drawn into one of concentration. “I did freak,” she said, quietly enough he had to strain to hear. Then she returned to the doorway. “But you’re not violent or insane. You’re just people.”
“I’m ‘people.’ My grizzly is a bear.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You two are one and the same.”
And here was the crux of her confusion. “No, we’re not. Not really. Because if the bear slips its leash, it’s my job to kill it.” His gaze shifted to the window. Miles away his best friend lived with that certainty. One day he would turn too much a bear and would go insane. And it would be Carl’s job to put him down.
Then he felt her hand on his cheek, gently but firmly guiding his gaze back to her. She was standing above him as he sat in his chair, and she used the superior position to emphasize her words. “You are the same person,” she repeated. “Bear or human, you are one person.”
“You don’t understand.”
She sighed. “So explain.”
“The grizzly is a wild creature. The man keeps him under control.”
“Two entities in one body?” she asked.
He nodded.
“I don’t believe it.”
He stared at her. He couldn’t fathom the audacity of her—a completely mundane human—telling him the details of who he was or how he functioned. It robbed him of words. And in the silence, she issued him a challenge.
“Can you let him out?” she asked. “Without shifting, I mean. Just let me talk to him if he’s someone different.”
He stared at her. Did she know what she was asking? “He’s dangerous.”
“You think he’d hurt me?”
“Absolutely not.” The words were out immediately and emphatically. “He worships you.”
Her brows arched, and her lips curved into a smile. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever been worshipped before.”
“You were last night,” he said.
“Oh, yes.” Her cheeks pinked. “Well, that was fun.” She frowned. “That was the bear?”
“No, that was me. And him. Together.” That made it clear as mud.
“See,” she said, touching his face. “You’re the same person.”
“We’re different,” he repeated.
Her expression shifted as she bit her lower lip. “Please?” she asked anxiously. “Is it possible? I’d really like to talk to him.”
“He doesn’t talk.” He pulled her closer to him, thrilled that she let him to wrap an arm around her hips. “He’s instinct and action.” And when she still didn’t understand, he squeezed her bottom. “He wants you, Becca. And he won’t be subtle.”
He could see her process his meaning, but she was undaunted. “You want me to understand this shifting thing. You want me to feel safe with you.”
He nodded.
“So show me. Let him out of the cage, Carl. I trust you to take control again if things get out of hand.”
She trusted, but he didn’t. Good lord, did she know what she was asking? “Last time I tried this, I lost control. Became a grizzly and tore apart my girlfriend’s bedroom.”
“How old were you?”
“Sixteen.”
