Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
“I’m Hazel,” I say in a shy voice.
“Hazel,” he whispers as he watches me with those deep blue eyes. I feel my cheeks blush under the intensity of them.
“I’m going to call you August,” I say. “I like that better. Gus sounds like an eighty-year-old grandpa working in a gas station. No offense.”
He smiles. Not the worst sight in the world.
He is really hot. That orange sweater is huge on me, but it’s hugging his frame nicely. I can see his round shoulders and I like the way the material is tight on his big biceps. I saw him naked and I know that he’s got a gorgeous body full of perfectly carved muscles hiding under those clothes. A full six-pack, a big powerful chest, and a long thick package that would make any hot-blooded woman blush. I’m blushing right now just thinking about it.
“Wait a minute,” I say as I clear all of these unhelpful thoughts from my head. “All of that would be great, if bear shifters existed. But they don’t.”
“They do, unfortunately. I am one.”
“Prove it.”
I cross my arms and stare at him with a challenging look. He squirms in his seat. Got him. This is all bullshit.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” I say with a winning stare. “If you have a grizzly bear inside of you, bring him out.”
“No. It’s too dangerous.”
“A bear shifter would never hurt his mate,” I say mockingly. “Right? So, I should be fine. Bring him out.”
He shakes his head, looking disappointed. “He seems calm right now, but… I can’t risk it. Not around you. I don’t trust him. Like I said, he’s gone feral.”
“That’s convenient,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “Maybe you should get going…”
“Wait,” he says as he stands up and yanks the shorts up his right thigh. “Look at this wound. It was from this morning. From the French guy with the sword.”
“From the wolf shifter?” I say skeptically.
“Yes! This was a fresh wound this morning. Look how it’s healing. Only a shifter can heal this quickly.”
“Unless you’re full of shit and that happened last week or last month. How am I supposed to know when you got those wounds?”
Although, everything does look much more healed than it did when I found him in the dumpster a few hours ago. He looks much better overall and I did notice that some of the scratches on his chest that were deep pink lines when I first saw him were almost completely gone when I saw him shirtless in the bathroom a few minutes ago. Maybe he does have quick healing… It would explain a lot. Like why he isn’t dead.
“You can’t have mates without trust,” he says as he gazes into my eyes. “We’re going to have to trust each other.”
I feel myself leaning toward him, the desire and yearning inside increasing with every breath. I want to be his. I want him to have me…
I catch myself and close my eyes for a second to gather my spiraling thoughts.
“This is ridiculous,” I finally say when I’ve composed myself. “You’re making an outlandish claim that you’re a bear shifter. Prove it. Bring your bear out or else I won’t believe you.”
I cross my arms and stare him down.
He sighs and I almost feel bad for him. My heart goes out to him and I get a strong urge to go over there and wrap my arms around his big hulking body. I grit my teeth and fight the urge off.
“That’s not going to happen,” he says in a pained voice. “I’d never risk your safety like that, Hazel. I would never let anything harm my mate. Ever.”
We stare at each other for a long moment until he jerks his head toward the window. He jumps up from his seat and rushes over.
“Shit.”
“What is it?”
“Dirt bikes. Can you hear them?”
I try to listen, but I can’t hear anything. “No.”
“Well, they’re coming.” He yanks the curtains closed. “Did you tell anyone I was here? Anyone?”
“No,” I say. For some reason deep down I knew to keep him a secret. I wanted to keep him safe. I wanted to keep him all for me. I knew that if I told Kathy or Lou or any of my customers, they’d tell the police and they’d come and take him away. I wanted him all to myself.
I start to hear the faint rumbling of the dirt bikes in the distance. How the hell did he hear that so early? Maybe he is a shifter…
“They must have healed up and then picked up my scent,” he says as he rushes to the door. “Do you have a car?”
“A crappy one.”
“Grab the keys,” he says as he yanks the door open. “We’re leaving. Now.”
I burst into action, grabbing my coat, the spare money I have hidden under the kitchen sink, a few granola bars, and then I’m running after him down the stairs and toward my car.