“For some of us—those with too much animal DNA—we lose ourselves in the animal. It’s called going feral.”
“So can’t you just…you know…not?” She asked the question already knowing it couldn’t be that simple. “Just don’t go animal.”
He snorted and pushed out of the chair. “I’ll stop the minute you stop breathing. Or having a period. Or I don’t know, waking up and brushing your hair every morning. This is a natural cycle. Some of us just have too much beast. I’m one of them. Drew the unlucky DNA straw. I’ve been holding it off since I was sixteen. And now I’ve run out of time.”
The way he said that number made her pause. Like it was significant. It took her about two seconds to realize what he meant. “You’re talking about that night—our night—when we were teens.”
He dropped his hands on his hips as he looked out the window. “That’s the real reason I ran, Julie. I knew then that I was losing control and I wasn’t coming back to human.”
She stood up, needing to meet him more eye to eye. “But you did.”
“Six weeks later.”
She grimaced. Bet that was weird. Living as a bear for a month and a half, and then boom, human again. “What brought you back?”
His lips curved, and he turned to look at her. “A girl with a citrus scent making love to her boyfriend.” He shrugged. “You have a citrus scent, Julie. It reminded me of you, and I wanted you. So I changed back. I stood there naked next to their tent, barely able to speak, and hungry as hell.”
He was lost in memories, his expression stark as the evening shadows cut into his cheekbones. She stepped closer to him, touching his chest as a way to reach out because he seemed to need it. His breath hitched under her fingers, and his empty hand came up to cover hers. But he didn’t look at her.
“Citrus girl called the cops. They came and called my father. By that time, I’d eaten a box of granola bars and had started to think again. You have no idea what it’s like to claw your way back into the higher cortex.” He closed his eyes. “It’s really hard, Julie. And getting harder every time.”
And there was her answer. Hadn’t she wondered if he was bipolar? The grizzly was the nonverbal guy who answered the door that first time. The one who grunted at her and slammed back coffee like it was the elixir of life. And then there was this man. Quiet, but still articulate. The man who ran a business and installed electronic surveillance equipment around the cabin. And according to him, that man was slipping away.
“There has to be a way to stop it,” she said.
“You sound like Carl.”
“Maybe you should list?—”
He pressed his finger to her lips. It was warm against her skin, and she felt the callus as he brushed gently across her mouth. “Don’t make yourself crazy. Carl and I have been looking since the day I came back at sixteen. And there were others long before us. All we’ve found is vague hints, magical spells.” He looked significantly at her. “Fairy tales.”
Her father’s research.
He nodded, probably reading her understanding off her face. “Did you never wonder why your father started researching shifter tales?”
She snorted. “Who knows what captures my father’s attention?”
“I do. I did.”
She arched her brows, waiting for him to elaborate. Eventually he spoke.
“Your father’s family is from here. Generations back.”
“Yeah. Great-great-granddad was a traveling salesman or something. Fell in love with a girl here and took her away.”
“But they came back now and then. Eventually someone bought this cabin as a summer place.”
“The older one burned down. Dad called it a rattrap.”
His lips quirked into a brief smile. “Some day I’ll tell you exactly what happened to that place.” Then before she could ask, he raised his hand. “Wasn’t me. Well before my time.”
She smiled, pleased to share this short moment of humor even if he wasn’t telling her the full truth. “So what did you do?”
“It was the next summer. The one after our night.”
“The one I decided to stay with my mother in Chicago and to intern at a law office.” It had been the first step in her path to becoming a legal secretary.
“Yeah. I talked to your dad. I really wanted to know about you, about whether or not you were coming back.” He sighed as if her decision still depressed him. “When I found out his ancestors were from here, I started asking about his family stories.”
