Page 8 of Mating Season
“Keep your phone on. We are tracking your coordinates.”
I grab my bag and slip my useless cell phone and the bear spray back into my pocket and then limp out into the night.
I move slowly through the trees, trying to find a more open spot. They’ll be sending a search and rescue helicopter probably, and I want them to be able to see and get to me easily—especially since Cooper could return at any time.
Half an hour later I hear the whir of the blades and see the giant spotlight. I wave my hands back and forth at them to make sure they see me.
“Just stay where you are, we’re coming to get you,” a voice says out of a megaphone.
Oh thank god.
But then I hear a soft growl. I turn and there he is. And he’s got… wrapped deli sandwiches in his mouth. I thought he was going to hunt, like… a rabbit or a deer or something.
“Cooper, please. Just let me go. You can’t take me now. They’ve already spotted me. If you drag me off they’ll chase you, too. You think they don’t have tranquilizer guns? You think they aren’t prepared to deal with wildlife out here? And what if they find out what you really are? I won’t tell anyone, I promise, if you just let me go.”
Who would believe me anyway?
He drops the sandwiches on the ground and chuffs softly back at me. I could swear he’s trying to talk… like he’s trying to reason with me. He takes a few steps forward, and I hold up a hand. “Stop! No! Let me go! This will not end well for you if you try anything. Accept defeat. They’ll take you out with a tranq gun and I’ll tell them what you are myself, I swear to fuck I will. I’ll do whatever I have to do. Don’t put me in survival mode, Cooper. Just… don’t.”
He sees the people getting closer to me, and he knows I’m right. He looks… hurt. I am not going to feel sorry for a man who wants to keep me his prisoner and doesn’t give a shit about what I want.
He growls again and then finally backs away into the shadows of the forest, and I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding.
6
COOPER
She’s right. As much as it kills me, the smartest move is to hang back and wait, wait for a moment with no witnesses, wait until I have my human form back.
I’m so fucking stupid, why didn’t I remember I brought the SAT phone? Why?She can’t get too far on that ankle. I was so foolishly confident.
I chase the helicopter. I’m sure with her injury and being lost in the woods for an extended time, they’re taking her to the hospital to check her out, but still, I can’t stand to let that helicopter leave my sight. Why couldn’t I have had a shifter mate?
Most shifters would have accepted me without question or struggle. I’ve been to more than my fair share of Find Your Mate mixers where we hope to nudge fate a little. At every single one of those events, any of the female shifters in attendance would have been thrilled if I was their match.
But no, it just had to be a human. I remember Rosalie’s address from her driver’s license. Maybe it would be better to wait at her apartment, but I can’t bring myself to do that. Instead I chase the helicopter all the way to the hospital.
The nearest hospital is only about five miles from the edges of the forest and still outside the city limits—plenty of wooded areas to hide in around the parking lot. But of course I don’t do anything so smart as that. I wait near a dumpster, trying to ignore the smell of a half-eaten cheeseburger someone threw out.
Keep it together, Cooper.I’m not about to dumpster dive to stress eat.
The wait is long. I pace out in the parking lot, watching her sitting in the waiting room. She’s not in an official emergency but I’m glad she’ll get an X-ray and a real doctor visit. Technically even with the toe wiggling, she could have a hairline fracture, and it’s just better to get it checked out.
When they finally take her back I prowl around the hospital, sniffing at all the windows until I find the room they’re seeing her in. The clock on the wall says it’s only ten o’clock. Fuck, I need my human form back right now. I can’t do shit as a bear—not useful shit anyway. The sun won’t be up for nine hours.
After another hour, they put her in a boot and release her to her roommate who came to pick her up. I can’t directly chase the car so I take back roads to beat her to her place. I narrowly escape being spotted in the parking lot by the headlights of her roommate’s car.
Her apartment is on the third floor of her building. I clumsily climb the fire escape to get to it. She doesn’t realize her window is open a crack, and either way I doubt she’d consider a bear could get up here. Even normal bears are surprisingly dexterous and resourceful—especially when properly motivated. And I am definitely motivated. My mate is in there.
“I don’t understand this,” her roommate says.
“I have to get out of here, Nikki.”
“But why? You’re not making any sense. You said there was a man in the woods? Just call the police. Get a restraining order.”
“He knows where I live. And how many women get restraining orders and die for their trouble?”
She’s walking much better with the boot as she throws clothes into a suitcase. I watch the screen light up when she opens her laptop.
