Page 4 of His Determined Mate
Coming to a halt, his massive frame tensed, eyes glinting with an awareness that transcended the animal form he currently inhabited. He bade his bear to retreat and give control back to him. The transformation was inexorable, a force of nature as unstoppable as the storm now raging above him. He took a deep breath, the cold air filling his lungs, and let the change take hold.
It was easier to hide the transformative maelstrom that signaled a shift between man and bear if there was a storm brewing outside. The shift began with a surge of heat that spread through his body, melting the ice in his veins. The air around him crackled with energy, and the first tendrils of mist began to rise from the snow at his feet. The mist thickened, swirling in intricate patterns, colored by the vibrant flashes of lightning that danced within the chaotic, centralized storm that surrounded him.
Thunder roared, and the mist enveloped Rick completely, obscuring his form from sight. Within that cocoon of swirling light and shadow, he felt his bones shifting, reshaping. It all happened within the blink of an eye. There was no time for pain to even be recognized, much less acknowledged. His fur was replaced by smooth skin, paws with razor-sharp claws transforming into hands while the rest of his limbs and body were restructured into human form.
The mist roiled and churned, alive with the energy of the storm. Colors shifted and blended, a mesmerizing dance of blues, purples, and silvers. Lightning crackled within the mist, illuminating the transformation as it reached its climax. Rick threw back his head and roared, a sound that began as a bear's growl and ended as a man's shout.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the storm abated. The clouds dispersed, leaving the sky a clear, icy blue once more. The mist dissipated, revealing Rick standing in the snow, no longer a bear but a man. He stood tall and strong, his dark hair tousled by the remnants of the storm's fury, his eyes still glinting with the wildness of the bear within.
Rick took a moment to steady himself, feeling the lingering effects of the transformation. He flexed his fingers, marveling at the return of his human dexterity, and let out a slow, controlled breath. The snowy meadow lay silent around him, the only evidence of the storm's passage the still-swirling flakes of snow that drifted gently to the ground.
He reached down to his waterproof backpack and removed his clothes, pulling them on quickly. Without his bear’s layers of fat and fur, it was too easy to die of exposure. Rick gazed out across the expanse, his mind already turning to the next job at hand.
He made his way to his Jeep, firing it up and heading into town. Sometimes he liked to shift and run out by his cabin, but other times, he wanted a change of scenery and found an area between his place and town where he could shift and run. The wild, untamed beauty of Kodiak Island stretched out before him, a reminder of the balance he walked between man and beast, nature and civilization. With the storm's fury still echoing in his ears, Rick stepped on the gas pedal and made his way into town.
Rick glanced up from his cup of coffee as the door to the diner swung open, bringing in a blast of frigid air and a flurry of snowflakes. Hannah stumbled in, her cheeks flushed from the chill outside and her eyes wide with something he couldn’t name.
She looked around, her gaze landing on Rick before she turned away and started back out the door. He wasn’t sure what was wrong, but it didn’t take a genius to know there was something.
“Hannah? You okay?” he asked, catching up to her before she could exit the diner.
“It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like it’s nothing. Why don’t we sit down?” He caught the eye of one of the waitresses. “Let’s get Hannah a cup of coffee and her usual omelet.”
“I have a usual omelet?”
“You do,” he assured her. “Regular eggs, shredded brisket, cheddar cheese, green onions, and red peppers.”
She laughed nervously before taking a deep breath, her fingers twisting together nervously. "I was on my way here, and... someone shoved me."
Rick's other eyebrow joined the first. "Shoved you? What do you mean shoved you? Are you sure you didn't just slip on a patch of ice?"
Hannah's eyes flashed with anger and frustration. "No, I was definitely shoved. I was walking past an alley, and someone pushed me into the street. I almost got hit by a snowplow."
He frowned, leaning back in his chair. "Did you see who it was?"
"No," she admitted, her shoulders slumping. "It was too dark. But the driver barely avoided me, and the cop who came said I probably just slipped. They both acted like I was imagining things."
Rick shook his head. "Hannah, you're new here. This place can mess with your head and even those of us born and raised here sometimes find it hard to keep our feet under us. It’s not uncommon for lowlanders to have overactive imaginations in a place like this."
Her eyes narrowed, anger sparking in their depths. "I’m not from freakin’ Arizona. I was born and raised in northern Washington state. I know how to navigate my way in snowy and icy conditions. Do you seriously think I'm making this up?"
Rick shrugged. "I'm just saying, maybe you slipped. It happens."
Before he could react, Hannah stood and slapped him, the sharp crack echoing in the quiet diner and drawing everyone’s attention. “Cancel that order,” she called to no one in particular before whirling around on her heel.
Her dramatic exit was ruined when she slipped. She’d tracked some snow in from outside and it had melted, causing her foot to slip out from beneath her. Rick grasped her elbow as she lost her balance, steadied her and turned her to face him. "What the hell was that for?"
Hannah crossed her arms over her chest, her chin jutting out defiantly. "What?”
“You slapped me.”
“No, I didn’t. You weren't slapped; it was just your imagination," she snarled as she turned and flounced out the door.
Rick blinked and brought his hand up to touch his face where she’d slapped him, a slow grin spreading across his face despite the sting. Touché.
He made his way to his usual booth, dropping Hannah’s untouched coffee in the back with the other dirty dishes. He was nursing a cup of black coffee and trying to shake off the lingering effects of the morning's encounter with Hannah. He couldn't get her out of his mind—the way her eyes had sparked with defiance, the feel of her slap, and most of all, the overwhelming urge to protect her that had surged within him.