Three days later, Mark had to go furry or kill something. He was sitting slumped on Julie’s couch. His eyes were bleary, and his shoulders ached. Usually, he reached for food or caffeine at this point, but he hadn’t the strength. Plus, his stomach rebelled at the idea of more carrots and dip, to say nothing about that disaster called store-bought hummus and crackers.
He used to think exhaustion was the best cure for his twitchy growly side. No such luck. It just brought his bear closer to the surface. He could step outside and smell the clean Michigan air, but he feared he’d sprout a snout as he did it. So he waited, trying to ride out the violent impulses.
Then he glanced across the room to Julie, who was sitting at the kitchen table. She was taking notes as she scrolled through God only knew what on her tablet while slamming back crap coffee like it was a protein shake. Which it definitely wasn’t.
Focus on her face. On the human details.
Sloppy ponytail and peanut butter smudge at the edge of her mouth. Stale coffee on her lips and grizzly hunch that wasn’t really grizzly. Her shoulders would ache, and he prowled forward to rub them. To rub her. Without even seeing her eyes, he knew they were tinged with red and that she was developing a permanent line between her brows.
Human details. Human life. How far away it felt and yet every moment, so precious.
Mate. Now.
They had been. Every night in a frenzy of coupling that was the only reason his bear tolerated three days of research.
Outside. Run free.
Simple choice. Mate or run wild. She was the only thing keeping him from going feral. She was his only touchstone to keeping him sane.
The phone rang, startling her and making him growl deeply. She glanced at him as she grabbed the phone, then kept her worried eyes on him as she chatted casually with her family. Her father was doing fine, but his continued fever kept him in the hospital.
Reassure her. Smile.
He did, though he had to remember how. She nodded, accepting the lie. And while he focused on the tension in his body, he realized she’d out-endured him and that was freaking impressive. He also saw what his friends did when they looked at him.
He, too, had gone through bouts of intense concentration. The drive to the find an answer had consumed him. He didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, and never spoke without a growl. He’d coded his first program in that state. He thought if he could create a computerized hunting simulation, it would ease that ants-under-his-skin need to get out and go animal.
It had worked…for a time.
He’d slept and eaten. He’d believed in a happily-ever-after. Until it had stopped working. It was all a lie. He’d never find relief. God hated him.
Eventually he tried again. Next came DNA studies. Carl’s research into magic. Maybe the answer was in fairy tales. Magic potions? Elation—depression—intense work—elation. A never-ending cycle. Highs were fragile. Lows got deeper, blacker. And always the temptation to surrender to the beast.
Take her. Now.
His dick was thick and hot. In a minute, he’d give in to the need. He’d stumble to the bathroom and flip on the shower. And while the hot water pounded his body, he’d imagine mounting Julie. She’d be a large, healthy brown bear, and he’d take her over and over until he growled and released. He didn’t do this with her. The need to be fur and claws as he spurted was too much, and he was ashamed. So he hid in the bathroom and found relief.
For a time. Until the need tore at him again. How long did he have this time? A few hours? A day? How long could he hold off until he lost control, became a bear, and took from Julie what she wasn’t willing to give?
He focused on her face again. Human.
He saw panic in her eyes. A desperation that told him she was on his same merry-go-round of hope, desperation, and despair. It was consuming her, and it would kill him to watch it.
He rolled his neck and flexed his fingers, feeling the grizzly reassert itself with every rumbling breath. He watched her eyes widen and she ended her conversation. He hadn’t the human ability to hear what she said. He managed one word.
“Julie.” And then he was on her.
She was used to it by now, but he still despised himself for it. No words, no tenderness, just need—raw and animal.
She put the condom on him.
He bent her facedown over the table.
If he went furry, then thank God she couldn’t see it.
Mate.
He poured himself into her.
