Her Bear In Mind Read online

  Sierra waved goodbye to Molly. Ate her bagel. Took a shower. Put on a suit and high heels.

  She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Could she do this? Could she just go back to the way things were?

  Sierra kicked off her heels and walked to the front door. She swung the door inward, almost sending Zeke, who had been leaning on the other side, tumbling to the ground. Startled, he smiled at her sheepishly.

  “Good morning ma’am.” he said.

  “Come in, Zeke,” she instructed him.

  Sierra sat down at the kitchen table and poured them each a cup of coffee. Zeke sat down and dutifully accepted the mug.

  “I need you to tell me what’s happening.”

  Zeke shook his head empathetically.

  “I can’t. We’re not supposed to talk to you. Just keep the place on lock-down.”

  “You’re going to tell me what’s going on,” Sierra insisted. “You will tell me, or I will call Joe and tell him I caught you sleeping on the job.”

  Zeke gaped at her.

  “But I wasn’t…you can’t do that!”

  “Try me.”

  Zeke swore.

  “Okay…but you didn’t hear it from me.”

  “A good journalist never reveals her sources,” Sierra assured him.

  “Okay.” Zeke said, reassured. “So there’s like this faction thing happening.”

  “Factions?”

  “Yeah. Joe got back to Sleuth and was all ready to fry Eric on a spit. But Eric was already there. And some of the other guys, well…they think you’re dangerous and you have to be turned or you won’t keep the town a secret. And Eric’s got all these guys with him. He wants to make a bid for Alpha, but he doesn’t really have enough support yet. Still, he’s got all these guys on his side, so Joe couldn’t really charge past them all to rip his head off.”

  “So what’s Joe doing now?”

  “He’s doing the politician thing. Trying to convince everyone you’re not a threat and to keep supporting him for Alpha.”

  “And how’s that going?”

  “Not good,” Zeke said darkly. “More and more of us are going over to Eric’s side every day. People are scared.”

  “What happens if Eric becomes Alpha?” Sierra asked.

  “He can order the pack to turn you. But they’ll have to get through me first.”

  “You’re not going to side with Eric?” she asked.

  Zeke shook his head.

  “No ma’am. I’ve seen what he did to this apartment and your friend’s face. We don’t hurt humans. That’s like a dude beating a woman or a grown up beating up a kid. You don’t hurt people who can’t fight back. It’s not cool.”

  Zeke sipped his coffee.

  “Eric is not a cool dude.”

  *

  Molly’s publicist probably deserved a raise.

  Instead of throwing his arms up in despair over the loss of over fifty completed paintings and a few unfinished pieces as well, he’d booked a private gallery for the next week.

  Sierra was there both as a friend, and in a professional capacity, having promised to write a short article on the exhibit for the Post. She arrived at 8:00 pm, iPad at the ready and photographer in tow.

  The sign in edgy painted letters hanging just inside the door declared the name of the exhibit “Home Invasion”. At its center was the charcoal police sketch Molly had made of Eric. It was accompanied by a series of stark, gut wrenching photographs of Molly’s bruised face. And then there were the paintings. The slashed canvases had been proudly framed and hung on the gallery walls. The shredded strips swayed slightly in the breeze generated by the A/C. Each one hung next to a small sign declaring its “former” title, medium, and price tag.

  The price tags were nothing to scoff at.

  Sierra noted that several pieces were already marked as sold. She paused to listen in as a couple admired one.

  “It just makes you feel like everything is so fleeting,” the woman was saying. “Like it can all be taken away from you at any moment.”

  The woman clutched her date’s hand, and he put his arm around her protectively. Sierra felt a pang of sadness, thinking about Joe.

  After finding out what was going on from Zeke, she had tried to call him. After failing to get a response on his cell phone she repeatedly tried his office and his home. Sierra was sure the staff had grown tired of pretending he wasn’t there. She even considered driving out to Sleuth, but rationality and self-preservation had won out in the end.

  She just wanted to tell him he was being an idiot. Did he really think she was any safer not being with him? The damage was done. As long as Eric was out there and making his power play, she was in danger. So what did it hurt for them to be together? Life, as the woman viewing Molly’s slashed up painting had pointed out, was fleeting.

  Molly was at the center of every one's attention, sipping a glass of burgundy while she recounted the attack to the awed spectators. The bruise on her face had blossomed into shades of purple and green her publicist had insisted she not cover up.

  Sierra could not for the life of her decide if the whole spectacle was a particularly appalling example of commercialism gone mad, or a legitimately great art piece born of the kind of suffering great artists are known for. For Molly’s sake, she decided the spin of her article would definitely be the latter.

  Sierra pushed her way through the crowd towards Molly.

  She whispered to her, “That couple over there just paid $2,500 for what I told you to throw in the trash.”

  “I know!” Molly whispered back enthusiastically, “Don’t remind me. My publicist says I’m not supposed to smile too much.”

  Her photographer, James, approached them with a smile.

  “You ready to take some pictures?” he asked.

  He took several shots of Molly posed with the police sketch. He even insisted on one of the two of them together.

  “It was your apartment too,” he said. “You’re a part of this story, Sierra. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

  Dutifully, Sierra stood next to Molly.

  “Serious or smiling?” she asked.

  “Definitely serious.” he said.

  Damon, their three to eleven guy, lurked in the background, looking extra conspicuous amongst the clean cut, art buying crowd. He had followed Molly to the gallery earlier. Zeke was pulling a double, sticking close to Sierra. Currently he was chatting up a pretty young socialite who couldn’t peel her eyes away from his muscular chest. Sierra had gathered that poor Zeke was working doubles as punishment for telling her what was going on in Sleuth. At least he didn’t seem to be hating this one.

  Sierra said goodnight to Molly and went to get her coat. Zeke was still entirely focused on the pretty brunette. Sierra tried to come up with any way she could interrupt them without ruining his chances with her. Every scenario she could think of made her look like the girlfriend. Deciding she could surely survive the walk to the car without him, she slipped out of the gallery and into the night.

  It was about a five-minute walk back to her car. Sierra pulled her coat tighter against the cold and started down the sidewalk. The street was mostly deserted, and the flickering lights overhead made her shadow dance on the pavement. Her black high heels echoed loudly. Regretting her decision to leave Zeke behind more and more by the minute, Sierra rounded the corner on to the street where her car was parked.

  There was the Prius, parked on the corner, thirty feet away from her. Eric was leaning against it.

  CHAPTER 7

  “End of the line, buttercup.” he said. “Here’s the deal. You come over here like a good little reporter and I’ll bite you. Promise it won’t hurt too much. You try to run, I’ll rip your head off and eat it. What’s your vote?”

  Sierra, cold terror clenching her insides, turned from him and ran. She kicked of her shoes and bolted down an alley way, her stocking feet splashing in the cold puddles of rainwater. She heard Eric take off after her.
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br />   Halfway down the alley, she heard the sound of fabric ripping and chanced a brief glance backward. Eric was shifting into bear form without breaking stride. Currently half man, half monster, he came at her on all fours. She wretched her eyes away and turned back just in time to narrowly avoid tripping over a trash can.

  The muscles in her legs screamed as she tried to push herself faster, knowing she couldn’t possibly outrun a bear. She burst out of the alley way and ran into the street. Cars swerved and honked as she cut through their path. She heard a thud and a roar as one of them struck Eric and chanced another glance backward. He was sprawled onto his back, bleeding, but was growling at her as he climbed up again.

  Sierra ran up the street and back towards the gallery, fervently praying Zeke had noticed her absence by now. He was fast, so much faster than her. She could feel his hot breath on her, just behind her now. One great paw reached up and scratched her across her back, knocking her down to her knees just as she reached the gallery doors. Eric stood on his hind legs, towering over her prone figure and roared.

  The gallery doors flung open. Zeke and Damon came rushing out. They were followed by James, who was fearlessly snapping pictures. The repeated camera flash shone in Eric’s small, black eyes.

  Eric looked around wildly. Everyone inside the gallery had their faces pressed against the glass, watching the scene. Crowds of passersby had gathered, keeping a safe distance as they took pictures and videos on their cell phones. Sierra realized very quickly the mistake Eric had made, the one he himself was coming to realize. He had exposed himself. It wasn’t exactly commonplace to see a wild black bear chasing people through downtown. This would be all over the news.

  After one last look at her Eric began to back away, then turned and fled. People screamed as he passed them on the sidewalk. Paying them no notice, he turned down an alley and was gone.

  Zeke pulled her to her feet, babbling apologies faster than his brain could form the words. Suddenly she was surrounded by people. Molly was hugging her. James was still taking pictures. Everyone was asking questions. She could see flashing blue and red lights approaching in the distance. Blind terror followed by sharp relief had made everything a little hazy.

  Trying to pull herself together, she was able to focus in on Damon, who was holding out a phone to her.

  “He wants to talk to you.” he said.

  *

  Escaped Bear Attacks Journalist

  Sierra Christie

  Though it is illegal to trap and keep wild animals as pets in Washington, that doesn’t always stop people. Far from the usual possums and stray cats enthusiasts may desire to adopt, Gerald Gregory is wanted for reckless endangerment after his pet bear terrorized the city streets of downtown Olympia last night. The wild black bear had been raised from a cub in Gregory’s basement, going without notice until it broke out and went on the prowl.

  It was as I left my friend’s art show at 11 pm last night that I spotted the bear sniffing around my car. Unfortunately, he saw me too…

  Thanks to Eric, Sierra had her first cover story.

  It hadn’t been too hard to fabricate the details. The cops had mostly lost interest after being unable to locate the bear. All Sierra had to do was point a finger at a man who had already changed his identity and moved to Sleuth months before, a man the police were unlikely to find even if they were really looking. Damon and Zeke had set up a cage and other bear wrangling stuff in Gerald’s basement, and tried to make it look like someone had been living there up until last night. The story was all wrapped up with a bow and accompanied by a striking photograph of Eric rearing up over her as she faced him from the ground, the back of her dress in bloody tatters.

  Sierra was admiring her byline as she sat in the passenger seat of Joe’s Range Rover. He reached over and squeezed her hand as they bumped along the dirt road towards Sleuth.

  “Are you ready for this?” he asked her.

  She had her front-page story, she had Joe back, and soon, Eric wouldn’t be a danger to her anymore. Her view of the world had expanded to include mysterious and amazing things she hadn’t thought possible. She had found the excitement she had been searching for. She was definitely ready.

  That hadn’t quite been the feeling she had been experiencing the night before when Damon had handed her the phone.

  She had taken it from him with shaking hands.

  “Sierra!” Joe had greeted her in a panic. “Are you alright?”

  “Now?” Sierra had asked him.

  “What?”

  “You’re calling me now? After I’ve been trying to call you all week?”

  And she unceremoniously hung up before he could get another word out. She handed the phone back to a stunned Damon, who looked at her plaintively as it began to ring again.

  “I’m not answering that.” she insisted.

  After speaking with the police she got patched up by the EMT’s. The scratches on her back were long and wicked looking, but fortunately shallow. His claws had just grazed her, doing much more damage to her cerulean blue silk dress than her skin. The EMT’s bandaged her up, insisted on a rabies shot, and then sent her on her way.

  Sierra looked quite the sight as she walked into her office just after midnight. Not having anything else to wear, and not wanting to waste time by going home, she was barefoot with torn and dirty stockings barely concealing scabbed knees. The ripped up dress and bandages completed the look. Sierra was sure by tomorrow every muscle in her body would ache like she had run a marathon.

  But tonight she was all adrenalin and excitement and anger. There was no room left for pain.

  Her editor met her just inside the door.

  “Jesus! You’re a mess! Tell me there’s pictures.”

  “Oh, there’s pictures,” James said as he trailed in behind her, camera in hand. “Wait till you see them.”

  They got straight to work on the story, racing for tomorrow’s deadline.

  Sierra’s phone rang twenty-six times in the next hour as Joe called her again and again. She ignored it each time, focused wholly on her work.

  After grudgingly realizing if she wanted to keep Sleuth out of the papers she would need his help, she answered the twenty-seventh call.

  “Don’t hang up!” Joe said immediately.

  “Wasn’t going to.” Sierra told him.

  “Sierra I’m so sorry. I’m going to kill him. I want to see you. I’ll do anything. Just tell me what you want.” he babbled.

  “I want a fall guy.”

  “What?”

  By 4:00 am, the story was finished. James and her editor had gone home. Too exhausted by the night’s events to make it to her car, Sierra had passed out at her desk.

  She woke up to the feel of Joe’s hands on her body, lifting her out of the chair and into his arms. Her overtired brain briefly wondered if she was dreaming. Surely only a dream could feel this nice. With his warm, strong arms holding her up, she felt safe and protected in a way she hadn’t realized she needed to feel until now. He brought his head down and kissed her, slow and sensuous. She forgot to breathe as his kiss lit up her body.

  “I’m sorry I left you.” he said.

  “Shut up.” she told him, and kissed him again.

  This kiss was more intense, hungrier. It made the hair stand up on her arms and blood pulse in her clit. She moaned as he set her down on the desk. He knelt and slid off her panties before plunging his face between her legs. She pulled on his hair and moaned louder. His tongue moved over her, first flicking over her clit and then softly sucking. Her legs spasmed and she wrapped them around his neck as she felt the orgasm building impossibly high. A feeling more intense than she could stand. It crashed into her like a wave, knocking the air from her lungs. She screamed out his name.

  Joe knocked the stuff off of her desk and ripped off what was left of her dress. With a growl he pushed her onto her back, then proceeded to peel off his clothes. He took off his shirt first, reveling the heavily muscled, hair cov
ered chest underneath. The pants came off next, and then he was standing naked in front of her, his huge cock pulsing with blood and ready.

  He plunged into her with one, quick thrust. It made her gasp with pleasure and lit up her body again. Slowly, ever so slowly, he pulled out, then quickly thrust into her wet pussy again. She wrapped her legs around him, holding his body close to hers as he thrust into her over and over. The pleasure was building to a crest in her, taking her higher. He bit down on one of her nipples and she screamed.

  With a great crack the desk gave way beneath them, sending them sprawling onto the floor. Hardly missing a beat, he scooped her up and pressed her up against the wall, continuing to thrust into her while holding her up. She buried her face into his neck, kissing, biting, and sucking until the pleasure became too intense and all she could do was ride it out. She came again, this time simultaneously with Joe, who called out her name as his whole body shuddered.