Bearly Hanging On (The Jamesburg Shifters #6)(11)

"It isn't poisoned," Elena said.

"And more importantly, there aren't any onions," West added. "She's used to cooking for bears." He punctuated this by reaching over and grabbing a pancake, which he rolled up and ate. "But speaking of all that, why were you in my field? And why did you have that fancy sled and all that? I've seen you around, you live with all those old folks down in the valley, right? That big house with the skylights?"

Ryan looked back and forth between the two of them. She was so much shorter and lighter than the bear that it was almost impossible to believe what she'd said. "You two," he said around a mouthful of cheeseburger, which as promised, had no onions. "You're mates?"

"Love comes in all shapes and sizes," West said, a proud smile spreading across his face.

"Yeah," Elena jabbed him hard in the ribs with an elbow. "And with all sorts of IQs. You can clean up after your buddy. I'm going to go finish that episode of Outlander we started before Captain Grumpy woke up. Wipe him too, if he needs that."

She had the sort of chip on her shoulder that was pretty obviously playful, but there was still something about the woman that Ryan didn't want to cross. He watched her leave, and West noticed the confusion on the younger man's face. "Fox," he said.

Ryan was just nodding, and at some point, absent-mindedly dropped his sheet.

"No, I mean she's a fox-shifter. Arctic. Not that she isn’t foxy, which she is, but I wouldn't say that to her face if you know what's good for you. I learned the danger of making fox puns about three weeks after we got together. Those jabs in the ribs she was giving me are nothing." He chuckled, looking off in the distance in fond remembrance. "Anyway, we have other business to attend, and I'm sure you're hungry and want to not be naked."

This man - West - had a pleasant drawl in his slow speech, but the way he narrowed his gaze made it obvious he wasn't the sort to mess around with. Ryan knew the look, because he had it, too. But then again, Ryan Drake was still standing there buck-naked in the middle of someone else's house while that person was standing there too. Although West was clothed.

"Yeah," he said. "Maybe clothes."

West nodded and left Ryan alone in the room where he'd been for at least two days - Ryan's paranoid side told him maybe he shouldn't believe all of this, maybe he shouldn't have eaten that food, maybe he was in more trouble than he thought.

West started whistling as he came back toward the end of the house where Ryan was. It was a cheery tune, made slightly haunting by the fact that if Ryan were in his position, he'd probably have killed the person who tried to steal his cattle. He'd have been right to do it, too; Jamesburg law was frequently lax in some ways, and frequently brutal in others.

Something is wrong. Something isn't... No one is this nice. No one is this patient. Housing me for two days for no gain of his own? I don't buy it.

The whistling was getting nearer and nearer, as were West's footsteps. Tension gripped Ryan's chest, tightening the muscles and making it difficult to draw breath. Then again, that could have been the vampire toxin. He had no idea. And that was the problem.

I don't understand any of this. Any of them.

A need to run gripped him, squeezing the bottom of his stomach. I need to run. I have to get out of here, get back home. Ryan could hardly control his racing thoughts. Panic surged through him and before he could take another breath, he was on the floor, he was growing fur, and his muscles were getting hard and long and thick.

"I brought you some jeans and—"

A savage roar cut his host off, but West didn't recoil. He stood his ground, waiting to see what Ryan was about to do, waiting to see what was going to happen before he reacted. "If you want to leave, go right ahead. Like I said, I was only doing this for a friend."

Raising one eyebrow, Ryan regarded him skeptically. Why would anyone be this kind without any reason? Especially to someone who was trying to rip him off?

"But listen, one thing I'll tell you - or rather one thing Jamie told me. Don't go running around too much. She said everyone reacts to the bites differently, and you might get confused easy, or get lost, things like that."

Ryan flexed his shoulders, fighting a stiffness that crept through his arms. It made no sense - moments ago, he felt fine, but as soon as he shifted, he grew lightheaded, like silkworms had filled his brain with cocoons.

Of course, that just made him more insatiably paranoid. He imagined all sorts of scenarios that Stephen King wrote about at one point or another, none of which seemed appealing. He just didn't understand - why would anyone behave like this guy was unless there was something in it for them?

"Ja... mie?" he growled, his voice low in his throat and barely understandable. Only someone used to the way voices changed mid-shift would be receptive. "Where...?"

"Work, probably," West said. "And listen, she stopped you before you did anything foolish. You owe her," he said. He was getting angry, despite his flat tone. Ryan sensed the tension mounting, and with it, his need to get away grew and grew. "You owe her big."

"Why?" Ryan managed to grunt. "Just why?"

Ryan eyed the door. West squared up. "You ain't going out that way, friend," he rumbled. "If you leave it's gonna be out the door beside you, or maybe in a bag. I'll put up with you threatening me, but my mate is less patient."