Page 2 of Mating Season
“Please… you don’t have to do this…” but I know I can’t reason with a wild animal. And that’s exactly what he is.
“Help!” I scream, as though there’s anyone out here to hear me. And even if there were, how do I know it’s not just someone else like this guy? They could make it a fucking party and multiply my trauma or maybe take a video for the internet.
No one is coming to save me. I reach through the leaves praying for a rock I can bash him over the head with, but nature provides me with no miracle weapon—not even a stick to jab in this monster’s eye.
And then I hear it… a low growling sort of sound that turns into a roar. And then a second later the guy isn’t on top of me anymore. I squint in the moonlight and can just make out… holy fuck it’s an actual bear.
The bear is aggressive and angry. A grizzly maybe? Black bears are usually shy and far more scared of you than you are of them.
The man screams, and I realize this bear is attacking him full out. Like “Hiker gets mauled by bear” attacking. I scramble to get away, scanning the leaves for my phone. But I can’t run on this ankle.Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Is the bear rabid? Will he maul me as soon as he’s done with the man? The thought flits through my head that I’d prefer that death to what this man had planned for me.
The stranger’s screams die, and I know it’s because he has died. The bear turns back to me, his gaze seeming to glow golden in the moonlight.
I hear a male voice in my head that says, “Mine,” as though I’m reading the bear’s thoughts right out of his head. But of course bears don’t think in English. I’m having some sort of break with reality.
I freeze. I can’t think. I can’t run. I just… freeze. And then I faint.
I don’t expect to wake up. I expect to die like that man did.
But I do wake, in a cave, wrapped in a warm… bear? What the actualfuck? Is this bear… cuddling me? My back is pulled flush against his—or her, I don’t really know—front, with an arm draped over me like this is normal.
Did this bear really drag me back to its cave…? It snores behind me, and I try to shimmy out from under the heavy furry arm. There’s a grunting sound, and I’m gripped tighter.
Okay, Rosalie, at least you’re alive. The bear didn’t kill you. It’s fine. It’s… fine.
It is not fine. But the bear is too heavy and strong, and I am so tired. And my ankle is throbbing. I don’t know if I could even get out of here on my own steam if I wanted to. I close my eyes and pray the bear doesn’t wake up in the mood it was in when it mauled my attacker.
2
ROSALIE
Birds chirp just overhead, and the warm sun hits my face. I press back up against a very solid chest. There’s a man’s arm draped over me. I try desperately to climb out of the fog of sleep. Did I go home with a man I met at a bar? No, no bar. I went on a hike to clear my head and brainstorm a new painting.
And that’s when it all comes flooding back. I barely breathe. There is a man with his arm wrapped around me, but it can’t be the man the bear mauled. I saw him die. Didn’t I?
I try to calm my breathing and slip out from underneath the strong tattooed arm.
“Where do you think you’re going?” It’s a low, guttural voice. Definitely not the man from last night.
I don’t want to say... sexy. Objectively it is sexy, but after what almost happened last night, the last thing I need to be thinking is a thought like that in a situation like this.
“Let me go,” I ground out. Maybe it’s the daylight making me braver, or the stupidity of being attracted to that masculine gravelly voice—like maybe I wouldn’t want to resist if he decided he wanted to…Stop that thought right there!I’ve never gone to therapy in my life, and clearly that was my first mistake.
He loosens his grip, and I jump out of his arms like I’m on fire. I turn and my eyes widen. He’s naked. I should run right now, but I can’t. I’m still hurt. The pain slices through my ankle, and I take the weight off it, trying not to let him see my injury. As if I could outrun this man anyway.
“W-what happened to the bear?” Did I hallucinate that? There was definitely a bear. But how could this guy take out a bear without me even waking up?
“Just calm down, Rosalie, I’m not going to hurt you.”
“H-how do you know my name?”
His head tilts to one corner where I see my bag and cell phone. And weirdly, the bear spray.
“I’m the bear,” he says calmly.
I just stare at him. I mean Ireallystare at him… those tightly coiled muscles, washboard abs, sun-kissed skin, tousled dark hair, warm brown eyes with flecks of amber, strong jaw, a very neat short beard a couple of steps above a five o’clock shadow—not too mountain man—tribal tattoos running around his arms and over his chest… a happy trail that leads down to…look up, look up!
