“Mhm.” His big hands wrapped around her waist, and he lifted her, tossing her over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re going to meet your animal.”
“No, no! I need water. I need to cool off. I need to swim,” she ranted as he carried her through the bedroom, the kitchen, and the back porch.
“Yes. Exactly.”
“What do—? Oh! The stream. Yes, perfect.” It was, she wassure of it, as she bounced over his shoulder while he carried her across the yard in long steps. Her stomach cramped, tightening dramatically as a shiver ran its way up through her skull, making her break out in a sweat. “Fuck, fuck, put me down, put me down.”
Freezing in place, Elliott set her on her feet and stepped back, his eyes soft and questioning. “How are you feeling? Stretching?”
“Stretching? No. No. I feel like everything’s shrinking.”
“What?” his eyebrow lifted.
“I’m getting small. I don’t know how— I can just feel it! Everything’s blurry. What the fuck?” She sucked in a breath of air and was hit with a warm, earthy scent, like vanilla with a resinous smokiness. It set her soul alight, and she knew, instinctively, it was Elliott. “You smell amazing,” she gasped, before spinning and bounding away.
23
Elliott meets his mate.
Fernranforthecreek, her ass peeking out at him each time his big shirt flipped up.
Elliott’s bear rumbled appreciatively when he followed at a jog. Whatwasshe? She clearly wanted to swim—that’s why he’d taken her outside when her chest started making sounds and she began overheating. It was animal time. But which one? That was the burning question.
He hoped she wasn’t a walrus. He'd love her no matter what, but it would be damn inconvenient. They might have to relocate somewhere with saltwater, somewhere coastal, and he’d have to move his whole studio. What a pain in the ass. What else liked water? Bears, but she wasn’t big enough. Maybe a seal?
In bounding steps, heedless of the stones beneath her bare feet, Fern splashed into the creek. Water drenched the back of her shirt—his shirt—suctioning the fabric to her asscheeks. He groaned, balls twinging at the sight. Then she dove in and disappeared.
He wished she’d put on a white shirt instead of a dark blue one. Made her damn near impossible to see beneath the water. He expected her to surface, to show him she was all right. But aside from a stray ripple, a patch of bubbles—nothing.
Chest tight, he kicked out of his sandals and prepared to shift, to gosave her. His bear would have her out in no time.
Then a small splash, hardly more than a pebble dropping into a pond, had him swinging his gaze upstream. There, a tiny brown head poked up and disappeared beneath the water.
He waded in up to his ankles when the creature popped up again, close. Its sleek brown body was almost serpentine as she sped past, a few feet below the surface. Laughter bubbled in his chest when her head emerged again, downstream this time, and she chirped before twisting and swimming past him on her back, showing off.
Fern was sleek, playful, and intelligent. And so, it seemed, was her otter.
She passed by again, this time spiraling like a little torpedo. She stopped, did a flip, then stuck her head up, blinking at him through dark brown eyes set against a whiskery little face.
Pleased beyond belief, his bear roared loudly in his chest, and she responded with a squeak as she padded into shallow water, watching him closely.
Squatting, Elliott held out an open palm, hoping to coax her closer. “Hi there, look at you. I know you can hear me right now, and you’re perfect.” She walked under his hand like it was an awning and reared up, all three feet of her, to place her tiny paws on his knee.
Her otter cooed, and he swore she was batting her lashes.
“You’re so fucking precious.” Gently, he lowered his hand to pet her slick, velvety back.
With her head resting on his knee and sunshine on her face, he could see the variations in her fur. Her back and tail were a dark chocolate brown, while her belly and face were a paler shade. Slowly but surely, her eyes fluttered closed, and he petted her for another minute until she perked up, pushed off, and bounded away. Brows furrowed, Elliott stood and wondered if he’d done something wrong.
No. There was a spot a few yards downstream where runoff entered the fray in a small silty channel. Dashing up into the yard for a head start, she raced downhill and dove, sliding through the grass and mud to splash into the water. When she emerged, he expected her to do it again. But she didn’t go back to the slide; she approached him.
Fern’s otter sat down a few feet away and waited for... something.
“Yes?”
