Bear Love: A Shifter Romance Bundle

2. Meg

MegSetting the last photo in place, I step back to study my work. The lone table in the cabin, a long pine slab, is covered with colored paper debris. It looks like a craft store vomited.

None of that matters, though. I push the paper, scissors, glue, glitter, and stickers aside to create more space. The final scrapbook page has one picture centered and matted with contrasting shades of blue paper. A blond man, shirtless and wielding an ax, stands grinning next to a woodpile. Ash Barlow, in all his glory, is splitting wood in a blizzard. Crazy shifter.

The background of the photo is dark, fuzzy with snow. Nothing is clear about the location or time of day. Ash is all that matters. He sticks out in the picture—as in Icy Cap in general—as if he is backlit.

I could never figure out what made him glow like that. Then I realized: he’s a living man. Not a dead one. I’m too used to being around other vamps.

I took that picture just a week ago. I’m eager to show him the completed scrapbook. When I moved into my room, I found a shoebox full of old pictures on the top shelf of my closet. Armed with the box of scrapbooking supplies I brought with me, I’ve been working away over the last month on recreating Ash’s life in pictures.

Running my fingers around the edges of the last picture, I wonder what he’ll think. I’ve been considering ways to present it. And ways he could show me his appreciation for it.

Ash is a man of his word. Too bad for me. It makes for one horny and lonely vampire when that sexy shifter lives under the same roof. A few days after I arrived, my paperwork caught up with me. Ash grew very quiet when he read the terms of my employment.

They’re a mood killer, for sure. I serve as a physician in Icy Cap at the pleasure of the Vampire Medical Review Board. If they don’t like my job performance, I don’t get canned. I get staked.

At the time of the Bite, when I was in medical school, becoming a vamp seemed like a good deal. I would receive eternal life and student loan forgiveness. In my human life, ever since I could remember, I’d wanted to be a doctor. Now I can practice medicine forever—and debt free! In death as in life, the devil is in the details. In my enthusiasm for leaping to the head of the recruitment line, I missed the celibacy clause.

I know, right? Wouldn’t you think something like that would be more prominent? Turns out most of the Vampire Medical Review Board has literally been around since the Dark Ages. If it’s good enough for them, their reasoning goes, then it should be good enough for us.

In the fine print, I discovered that s*x with other vampire physicians (as long as it’s discreet) is ignored. What riles the board up isn’t s*x but emotional attachments. The board maintains that it is impossible to fully focus on one’s work if a personal life spills over into a professional one. Sadly for me, their rule is law.

The great room in Ash’s cabin is still a bit chilly for my comfort. I throw a few more logs on the fire. Two months ago, my plan was simple: move to Icy Cap and set up my medical practice. After being here for almost that long, I’m making slow progress in winning the area residents’ trust. And that’s with Ash’s support as community leader. Everyone is so suspicious of vamps. How tiresome.

I’m not patient by nature, which is probably why the review board gave me this assignment. Well, that and I probably pissed off the current president when I sent her a box of s*x toys with expired batteries to protest the celibacy requirement.

The last laugh is on me, though. I’ve fallen in love with Ash and am forced to live under his roof in this “friends with absolutely no benefits” arrangement.

I’ve made some inquires about other lodging, but Icy Cap residents are loath to take a vamp into their homes. They reluctantly allow me to treat them when they exhaust other options. Me sleeping under one of their roofs? Not so much. With no temporary accommodations in Icy Cap until the inn is completed, Ash offered me his spare bedroom.

The cabin’s thick walls don’t quite block out the howling wind. Another Icy Cap winter storm. Being several hundred miles north of the Artic Circle means soul-freezing temperatures combined with three months of darkness.

For a vampire, the darkness is heaven but the cold is hell. Even thinking is difficult.

My cell phone buzzes like an angry beetle scuttling along the paper-laden table. Scooping it up, I answer it on the third ring.

The line goes dead.

Damn paranoid Icy Cap residents—all several hundred of them. That doesn’t include the troll mining camp to the south and the fae to the north. They have yet to call on me for my services, but Ash says they’ll come around.

Being the only doctor means I’ve given my cell phone number out freely. It was either that or die (again) from a combination of boredom and s****l frustration. That’s a miserable diagnosis.

Grabbing a throw off the couch, I wrap it around me. Whoever it was will call back. No sense freezing my ass off any more than I have to. Pacing is a heat waster. I might as well try and warm up, especially if I’ll be heading out for a house call.

When I came here from Las Vegas, the arctic temperature was one of many shocks. Vampires are cold-blooded, so I’m always trying to stay warm. I mean cold-blooded not as in heartless but as in similar to reptile physiology. I’m like a tree gecko marooned on an iceberg. I snuggle deeper in the plush throw.

I spy a picture of Ash on his mantle. He’s a former hockey player sporting six foot two inches of Nordic hotness. Not only is he heart-stoppingly handsome, he radiates heat like a furnace. To a vampire nothing is sexier than warm blood.

Vampires aren’t capable of love; they taught us that in school. What I feel for Ash must be some strange arctic effect on my system from all this bone-chilling cold. I crave crawling into his arms, plastering myself against his chiseled physique. It doesn’t help that he runs around severely underdressed. Apparently his ice bear spirit runs at a high idle that fuels his body heat. Obviously this is some kind of karmic torture designed for a s*x-starved vampire physician.

My attention veers from my personal muddle to the shifters approaching outside. I bury the scrapbook under the paper chaos for now. I sense the shifters’ accelerated heart rates and increased blood volumes as easily as if I had stethoscopes pressed to their chests. They are agitated. Something is wrong.

The cabin door swings open. Two men stomp into the cabin, their voices raised in heated discussion.

“You OK?” Ash, the aforementioned alpha shifter, pauses in his rant at his cousin Tristan. Ash towers over my five feet seven, and my body temperature inches up a few degrees thanks to his proximity. I tilt my head back to look up at him. His cousin, also an ice bear shifter, closes the door behind them.

“I’m fine.”

“Thank God.” Ash squeezes my shoulders and pecks me on the cheek. Snow from his hair falls on me.

I start to lean into Ash’s heat but stop myself. Instead I pull the blanket tighter around me. Whatever it is, he’s concerned for his community. Nothing else.

“Ash?” Tristan speaks beside him. He is more compact than Ash and about the same age. He is also naked. “It’s an emergency.”

“Tell Trudy to put some pressure on it and call again when the gale-force winds stop.” Ash passes farther into the cabin and grabs another blanket for his cousin.

This is a stab at modesty for my benefit. Ice bear shifters are not shy. Honestly, if they could get away with running around naked in human form 24/7, they would. In a mixed paranormal community like Icy Cap, though, they need clothes. Not everyone is a fan of naked bear bum like me. I’ve seen every kind of human and paranorm anatomy imaginable, plus some unimaginable.

It’s like Ash to be rather gentlemanly about the shifter nudity. Truthfully, I wouldn’t want to be on his bad side, because being on his good side is a sweet deal.

“What happened?” I focus on Tristan before narrowing my eyes at Ash’s retreating back. Sometimes his behavior can be high handed. Like when he tries to screen my patients during a blizzard.

“Trudy got trapped.”

Shit. Trudy is my best friend. Well, as close to a best friend as vampire can get in a place like this.

I want to run out the door, but I’m no good to Trudy unless I’m able to work. And I can only work when I’m warm enough. In this climate, that is rather an undertaking. Often I feel preparing for space travel would be only slightly less tiresome.

“We leave in five,” I say. Another bear-trap injury. This will be the third I’ve treated. The others were shifters. In both cases, my experience and an infusion of my blood helped save the victims’ legs.

And this time the victim is Trudy. I shudder at the thought of my best friend’s agony.

“Wait outside,” Ash growls while he shoves his cousin out the door. Shifters are not known for being even-tempered. Being a shifter and a sheriff is not a common combination. Then again, Icy Cap is far from normal.

“I’ll give her a ride—” Tristan’s words die as Ash closes the door in his face.

“Yeah. I’ll bet.” Ash mutters to the closed door.

“Don’t be an asshole. He’s your cousin.” I scowl. “And that’s my favorite blanket.”

“You’re not seriously planning to go out there with him.” He turns to face me, folding his arms across his chest and planting his feet wide.

“I’m a doctor, remember?” Oh God. He’s going to go all He-Man on me. It’s certainly in conflict with my previously stated goal of avoiding being staked, but I want a f**k by this guy. I can only imagine how he’d feel inside me. I’m sure it would do wonders for my suffering body temperature.

“You’re a vampire. You can’t go out in this weather.”

“It’s snow in Alaska. Don’t be such a baby.” I love baiting him. It is such a turn-on, getting him all riled up.

I have to stop looking at him. At this rate, I’ll need to change my panties before I even leave the cabin. Most unprofessional.

“Even by Alaska standards, this is a blizzard. Ice bears are made for this weather. You aren’t. I won’t allow it.”

“Spare me your theatrics.” I secretly love them, but there’s no need to tell him that. I gather my brunette curls back into a low twist and go to collect more of my clothing from my small bedroom.

Ash stalks behind me, huffing and puffing like a big bad wolf.

I tame my hair into something I can fit under a hat and a snowmachine helmet. I stuff my medical supplies in my backpack. I pull on extra socks and pack a third pair in my parka pocket. I need even more inner layers before I add my outer layers. Even then I’ll probably still be cold.

I try calculating how long it’ll take to reach Trudy by snowmachine in this weather but fail. It depends on the conditions. Her place is more than five miles outside of Icy Cap, not far from the Arctic Sea. The winds off the water will be merciless. Tristan’s bear spirit will withstand the weather fine. Hell, he might even have enjoyed it if it weren’t for his friend’s injury.

For the love of the Goddess, Ash is literally breathing down my neck.

“Depending how things look, I may spend the night.”

As I duck under Ash’s arm, which is blocking my bedroom doorway, I wonder: with as much blood as she’s probably lost by now, how much time does Trudy have left?

A few minutes later, I step outside only to discover a massive ice bear standing not far from the house.

I drop my bag.

Of course it’s Ash.

Always is and always will be.

His ice bear is beautiful and terrifying. I’d never mistake him for any other shifter or a regular bear, even though his black eyes have no resemblance to Ash’s light ones.

Tristan is relenting. Not a surprise, as Ash is the Alpha. Tristan’s more tentative around his older cousin.

When Tristan’s shifting became unpredictable, he returned to Icy Cap to help with inn renovations. It’s never easy for a shifter to change territories, and a young male in his mid-twenties is a threat to the older shifter bears. If Ash hadn’t taken him in, Tristan could well be dead by now.

“I suppose there’ll be no living with you now,” I say tartly, acknowledging Ash’s magnificence.

On all fours, the bear extends his neck, relishing the wind and snow. To say this bear is proud doesn’t even begin to cover it. His enormous paws sport sharp claws. His fur is already collecting snow.

He raises his broad snout into the wind, basking in its cold fury.

For the first time since I became a vampire, I am afraid of another living thing. This bear could kill me.

Ash bows down like a puppy wanting to play, bending first his front legs and then his hindquarters. He swings his head over his massive shoulder, toward his back.

He wants me to climb up there?

I’m terrified. And fascinated.

I rode horses as a child, but I haven’t since becoming a vamp. Horses don’t like my kind now. I climb on, assuming this will be like riding a horse.

It isn’t.

For starters, there’s no risk a horse will eat the rider. Then there’s the whole girth issue: there’s no guiding a bear with my knees when I’m splayed across his broad back. Even through my gloves, his white fur is dense. Muscles ripple as he moves.

“Gives a whole new meaning to the term ‘bareback,’” I mutter.

The bear snorts, blowing a plume of snow off the ground. It doesn’t sound like a laugh, but then again, ice bears aren’t known for their sense of humor.

We leave the soft glow of the cabin and plunge into the darkness. He plows through belly-deep snow, cutting across the landscape with a surprisingly smooth gait. The cold immediately diminishes my senses. I lose all sense of direction within minutes.

Once or twice, Ash slows, presumably to check for directions, before picking up his speed again. He moves unconcerned about running into another trap himself. Probably not a great idea, when I think about it. The storm mutes all signs of life. We meet no one on our trek.

Nature is the ultimate predator. If we get separated, I’ll die of exposure. Already I can feel my limbs stiffening and my brain becoming sluggish due to the cold.

Ash stops, leaving some space between us and the small semicircle of cabins ahead. This is Trudy’s camp.

I slide off his back stiffly, finding my legs clumsy. I stamp my feet, trying to get the blood moving. I would like to get inside, but my thighs won’t budge.

I flex my hands inside my thick gloves. Maybe I can walk on my hands? No forward motion below my waist is possible at this rate.

Back in human form, Ash scoops me up in his arms, then strides through the deep snow naked. He certainly has that shifting thing down. My eyelids feel frozen, but when he touches me, heat starts seeping back into my body.

All too soon we’re inside Trudy’s small cabin. My goggles steam up immediately, rendering me temporarily blind.

“She’s pretty cold. Give her a few minutes to warm up. You OK?” Ash pulls my backpack off as he greets Trudy. “I’m gonna take a look around outside.”

I smell her blood. I hear her heartbeat. She is still alive. Ash throws more logs in the fireplace. I rotate slowly so my backside faces the heat. I’m coming back to myself.

Trudy murmurs something, but it isn’t very encouraging or intelligible.

Removing my goggles, I get my first look at Trudy’s place. Even though I consider her my best friend, she never invites me over. That isn’t unusual. We always meet at Ash’s cabin, the hot spot for local residents wanting to try out socializing or conduct business in a town with no offices.

Visiting my patients’ homes sates my voyeuristic bent. Or, to put it another way, I am a nosy vamp. Paranorms are paranoid about their homes for a reason. Years of your species being hunted will do that.

I’m always surprised how ordinary most paranorms’ lives are. Trudy is no exception. She’s decorated the place thoroughly in shabby chic. Upon closer inspection, I realize all the furnishings are original, not a recent spruce-up. The square cabin has a utilitarian kitchen in one back corner. Next to that, a narrow door stands ajar, leading to a very small bathroom. Her bed is in the other rear corner. There is a potbelly stove with a chimney in the center of the room. By the front window, an old paint-splattered table holds her computers. Since she’s a tech person, they are her livelihood. Outside of the bed and computer table, the room is mostly stacks of detective novels.

I feel a rush of anger seeing her lying so listless in her bed. Whoever did this to her is going to pay. I might be a physician, but the vampire part of me wants vengeance. Of course, the perpetrator has to be found. I’ll bug Ash later about possible suspects. He has to have some idea who would be attacking paranorms across his territory.

If Ash hadn’t told me he and Trudy were in high school together here years ago, I’d have never believed she wasn’t a teenager now. Everyone knows how fixated vamps are on aging. That’s true to a certain degree. If you’re going to live forever you might as well look your best.

Trudy looks like an Irish lass—fair skin, freckles, green eyes, and truly red hair. As usual, Trudy’s eyebrows are barely visible. She looks permanently startled. I’m not a whiz with cosmetics, but an eyebrow pencil needs to enter her life. When she recovers, maybe I can talk her into going down to Fairbanks for a girls’ shopping spree. Lord knows my stationery stash is running low.

I knew Trudy was a shifter, but that’s about it. I suspected a bird, but maybe that’s just because I always wanted to fly. Unfortunately, that isn’t part of my vampire package deal.

Alaskans like their privacy. A lot. Now I’m about to get to know her a whole lot better.

I’ve warmed up enough to root around in my bag without my gloves. I purposely keep my eyes averted when I ask my next question. In med school we learned that many paranorms avoid eye contact with vampires, mainly because of misinformation. For the record, it’s a lot harder to glamour someone than it looks.

“Falcon?” I busy myself pulling on gloves. Until I clean the foul magic out of her wound, I risk getting contaminated.

“Fox.”

Of course. Fox. I’ve been fixated on Trudy’s hyper energy and nervousness, thinking of her as a skittish bird. Now I can totally see her as a fox: smart, private, and wily. If she hadn’t been seriously injured, I’d probably never have seen the inside of her den.

Using a saline solution, I rinse out her wound just as I would with any human. Not only is her skin lacerated, the edges of the wound are burned. The trap was enchanted, all right. Dark magic hid it from a paranorm’s enhanced senses, and an additional spell coated the trap’s metal teeth, preventing detection. Once the trap was sprung, the whole thing stank like egg salad in a hot car.

The wound is the same as those I’ve seen in the other two victims. Someone has it in for paranorms around Icy Cap. Two questions nag at me: who and why?

“I’m giving you a dose of pain med,” I say briskly. “It might make you feel sleepy. It’ll take the edge off when I fix you up.”

Trudy’s lips press together as I inject the painkiller. I don’t have to wait long. With her slight weight, the medicine takes effect quickly. Soon her face relaxes. She lays her head back, blinking slowly to ward off sleep.

“Just rest. You don’t need to talk. You’ll feel better soon, I promise.”

“Ash is happy lately.” One of Trudy’s free hands fumbles at the thick computer-language manual next to her on the bed.

She’s in no shape to read a computer manual, let alone work. I think about removing it but decide against it. I’ve never formally diagnosed Trudy, but she’s somewhere on the anxiety spectrum. Given her recent experience, dog-earring a book is the least of her problems.

“He has a lot to be proud of. The inn renovations are coming along.” I pack her wound with the bright green arctic moss the fae collect at solstice. After a few moments, the wound’s sulfur odor neutralizes and I remove the moss. Now the moss is white and brittle, as if it’s been flash frozen.

“A shifter needs a mate.”

“You know what they say,” I remark wryly. “Charity begins at home. Anyone you’ve been keeping an eye on? A certain ice bear?” I focus on my suturing.

“You mean the sheriff?” Trudy’s nervous fingers stop mauling the pages. Oh sweet Jesus. I hadn’t meant Ash. I’d been thinking of how attentive Tristan was. Now, though, with all that painkiller lowering Trudy’s inhibitions, I panic. Is she going to wax on about how wonderful he is? And am I going to have to listen?

Not that I don’t agree, but I remember from my human days that there are few things worse than hearing another woman praise the guy you like. Especially since I can never have him.

Trudy is perfect for Ash. She’s a shifter too. She’s from Icy Cap. She’s known him for years.

I feel a stab of jealousy.

“Me and Ash? That’s funny. Ash is a great guy, but you haven’t met Dane. He’s hawt.” Trudy giggles.

Good news: the pain meds are working.

I haven’t met Ash’s twin brother, Dane, but I’ve scrapbooked more than a few pictures of him. The brothers have identical features except that instead of Ash’s fair hair and light eyes, Dane is all dark, broody good looks.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I’d invite Ash to warm my bed any day if it wasn’t for that whole staking thing.

So Trudy has a thing for the smoldery twin? I’m willing to bet Tristan doesn’t know that. Luckily I’m in no position to tell him.

“You’re not like other vampires I’ve met. You care about people.”

“That’s my job.” I give her wound a sniff. No sour odor, which means the dark magic is gone. I hate to think what would happen if that wound festered.

“So, what about you and the sheriff?” Trudy asks.

I’m starting to wish I’d given her a little less pain medication. It doesn’t function as truth serum with most people.

“You should rest now. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“Admit it,” Trudy presses. “You like him. And I know he likes you.”

Thank God I’ve got more self-respect as a vampire than to hang on every last word from Trudy like a lovesick teenager.

“Life is complicated, Trudy.”

“No s**t. This medicine is awesome, by the way. Any chance you can leave me some for later?”

“None at all.”