Polar Opposites

Chapter 1-2

He’ll do nicely.

TJ grumbled at his inner beast. You’re just horny. Anyone will do for you right now.

It is mating season or did you forget?

No way in hell could he forget. The demanding, nearly overbearing urges to find another man and screw until the cows came home plagued him day and night. Had for over a week. More than once, TJ considered driving into town, finding a hook-up for a night, and relieving some of the unrelenting ache. Only the knowledge that it wouldn’t be near enough and his inability to take time off work kept him staying the course, praying the heat ended soon. Too bad he knew better. Mating season lasted about a month for grizzlies in the wild. Shifters, at least in his experience, didn’t quite mimic their cousins in that regard, with the length being closer to two or three weeks. Surely, a blessing in that regard. Even a single less day was a definite positive.

Normally, he could handle it. Had done so for several of years. Yet, something about the newcomer struck a chord. Maybe it was the hint of innocence Donovan carried, his happy-go-lucky persona—at least the brief part that TJ had been privy to. Or, perhaps, it was because Donovan was another bear. Polar, not grizzly. A fact which his inner beast didn’t seem to mind.

TJ watched Donovan tromp loudly through the brush, stop in the middle of a large patch of poison ivy, and pivot in a circle.

He’s looking for us.

Yeah, while standing in the middle of poison ivy. Again. Still in bear form, TJ shook his mighty head. City bear is going to regret this outing. Not only because of the vegetation he seemed drawn to, but also because he wore tan shorts with hiking boots. A white T-shirt completed the wardrobe. Nothing any rural person would have chosen when going on a hike in summer. If Donovan didn’t turn into a walking tomato from the plants, he’d most likely be picking ticks off his hide and scratching at an outbreak of chigger bites. Then, there would be the mosquitos. No shortage of misery causing agents in the woods, that was for sure. And, at that rate, Donovan would find each and every one.

We could warn him, his inner grizzly quipped with amusement.

I already did.

A few beats of silence followed as he watched Donovan march off in a different direction, brushing the weeds away with his hands.

TJ returned to all fours, where he’d been sitting behind a large log, in his grizzly form.

Where do you think we’re going?

Following him.

Why? TJ forcefully put on the brakes. With such a tempting morsel as Donovan made, he didn’t trust himself or his bear within twenty feet of the other shifter.

To make sure he’s safe.

Uh, huh. From what? The rash causing plants or the biting bugs?

Other bears.

TJ lifted his nose and scented the air. Sure enough, a vague aroma carried on the wind. Another grizzly, though this one seemed to be the wild kind. Of course, why could I think otherwise? Sarcasm dripped from every word in the thought.

You like him.

TJ snorted, allowing his beast to guide the way—for now. If he gets mauled and eaten, it would be bad press for the wildlife.

Is that the story you’re going with?

Yeah. There was no lying to his beast. The inner grizzly knew it all—including the fact that Donovan intrigued TJ. From his blondish, sandy-brown hair, to the ample muscles on his large frame, to the whiteness of his legs revealed by the shorts. The blue eyes sparkled with amusement and play, something that compelled TJ to join in the fun. Dared him to let loose. Encouraged him to grin. TJ had resisted all of the above. To give in would have been too risky. For both of them.

He’d read enough in Donovan’s expressions, body language, and pheromones to know the other guy appreciated what he saw in TJ, and probably wouldn’t be adverse to a little down and dirty roll in the hay. That wasn’t the issue at all. It was afterwards where the problems existed. TJ knew it well and reminded himself of the vow he’d made way back when. To take on a relationship simply cost too much. A price he’d once been willing to pay, but no longer.

He studied Donovan as the man covered more ground. The graceful motions, the way he lifted his head, sniffed the air, and carried himself with confidence. He might not know jack s**t about the wilderness, but he somehow managed to pull off the charade.

He’s a polar. They can take care of themselves.

A polar in grizzly territory who can’t even manage to stay out of the poison ivy? his inner beast quipped.

Well, hell. With a resigned sigh, he trailed after the tenderfoot, determined to protect Donovan from harm, at least those in the mammal realm.

A shot pierced the air.

TJ jerked around, opening his senses to discover the exact direction it came from. A tiny scent tantalized him. Not strong enough to grab his attention and lead him to the culprit, it was still able to give him a vague idea.

He took a couple of steps before stopping. Swiveling his head around, he glanced the way Donovan had gone. Indecision flared. Stay and protect Donovan from the vegetation and potential wild animal attacks or dash off further into his property and find the hunter poaching on his land.

Back and forth he wavered.

Finally, his inner grizzly made the decision for him.

Surging ahead at full speed, he raced toward the area he believed the hunter trespassed. It wasn’t the first time some stupid human decided to cross the boundary and go after the wild game on TJ’s land. Hopefully, it would be the last.

With his instincts driving him, TJ went after the shooter.

By the time he arrived, he found little more than a single spent gun casing, tracks, and a decidedly pungent smell of a human on a mission. The odor caused TJ to scrunch his nose. He also knew the human had hot-footed it out of there. The tracks told of a man running, angling to avoid branches and bushes, and a hasty retreat straight to the road. The evidence stacked up. This was no ordinary hunter, tromping through the woods in order to find his next trophy to hang on the wall. It was a man well-versed with the wilderness. He knew he’d be hunted, so didn’t bother to tarry once he missed his target, whatever that might have been. No animal carcass or blood led him to believe that anything had taken a hit. A definite positive.

What concerned him the most was the casing. He knew enough about guns and bullets to identify the ammo. A .450 cartridge. Huge and deadly. This guy wasn’t hunting deer or squirrel. He was going for much bigger game—bears.

TJ’s gut tightened as anger rushed through him.

Someone was after his bears. What the bastard didn’t know was this particular bear fought back.