hurried away. “Carla’s fine – what’s the worst thing that could happen to her in Pioche, anyway? It’s too small to get lost in, and even if she went hiking in one of the nearby parks, the weather’s fine today.”
Diego hadn’t been able to explain; he just knew that he had to get to her. Andy had understood even if he teased him about it. He was a shifter too, after all. He agreed to finish fixing the fence they were working on by himself, and Diego decided to drive into Pioche to check on Carla.
He knew he should phone first, but with each minute that passed, the urgent tension thrumming beneath his skin grew stronger and stronger. It no longer was a pleasant distraction. Instead it felt like having another shifter in his territory, or when an electric storm caught him in bear shape: a sense that something was wrong, that he needed to be prepared for danger. He didn’t even bother to shower or change his clothes, but hopped straight into his truck and pulled out onto the road.
There’s plenty of time to find her before she could get really hurt , he told himself. Still, every time he glanced down at his truck’s dashboard, he saw his speed had crept back up, putting him well over the legal limit.
After what seemed like years but realistically was less than an hour from when he’d first felt that tingling unease, Diego saw Pioche over the crest of the next hill. There, next to a general store, was Carla’s hotel, but his bear insisted that she wasn’t there.
He didn’t know how he could tell her location, but he decided to trust his instincts. Diego drove straight through Pioche, his bear telling him to go forward. It made no sense, but that tingle of impending danger was growing stronger and stronger. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood up, like the hackles on a bear that rose when it was threatened or angry.
Carla needs me , he thought. I don’t know how, or why, but if anyone has hurt my mate, I’m going to kill them .
He was driving past an unremarkable hill, a sharp crest of gravel and sandy dust that looked exactly like every other hill outside of Pioche, when his bear roared, There! Mate!
Diego slammed on the brakes and pulled his truck over to the shoulder of the road, leaving a streak of black rubber on the asphalt and raising a thick cloud of dust from the dirt. He launched himself out of the truck, not bothering to lock the door behind him, and raced up the hill.
It was like his chest had a compass in it, one that pointed straight toward his mate, and all he had to do was follow it. It wasn’t a feeling a human would have been able to understand, but Diego was more than human: he was a bear. And right now, he was a pissed off bear, one who cared about nothing except for finding his mate and protecting her.
He reached the top of the hill and there, on the other side, was Carla, surrounded by most of the Sullivan wolf pack. He’d barely registered the sight before his bear exploded out of him.
Normally shifting was a long, slow process that required Diego to focus on the feeling of being a bear, but this change happened in seconds. His bones lengthened, his muscles extended, fur grew from his skin until he was entirely covered. He dropped from two legs down onto four, and by the time his hands hit the dirt, they’d become paws. Nearly a ton of grizzly bear landed, enough to shake the ground.
Diego roared, his fury echoing off the hills. The people below simultaneously swung around to face him. Diego started for the one who was holding his mate; faced with an oncoming angry grizzly, the man immediately let go of Carla and took a few steps back, then transformed into a wolf.
Carla screamed at the sight, but Diego had no time to reassure her. Two of the other Sullivans also changed, moving to either side of their brother to back him up. They snarled and snapped at the air, but none of them wanted to be the first to attack a bear, and so they stayed back, waiting for
Diego hadn’t been able to explain; he just knew that he had to get to her. Andy had understood even if he teased him about it. He was a shifter too, after all. He agreed to finish fixing the fence they were working on by himself, and Diego decided to drive into Pioche to check on Carla.
He knew he should phone first, but with each minute that passed, the urgent tension thrumming beneath his skin grew stronger and stronger. It no longer was a pleasant distraction. Instead it felt like having another shifter in his territory, or when an electric storm caught him in bear shape: a sense that something was wrong, that he needed to be prepared for danger. He didn’t even bother to shower or change his clothes, but hopped straight into his truck and pulled out onto the road.
There’s plenty of time to find her before she could get really hurt , he told himself. Still, every time he glanced down at his truck’s dashboard, he saw his speed had crept back up, putting him well over the legal limit.
After what seemed like years but realistically was less than an hour from when he’d first felt that tingling unease, Diego saw Pioche over the crest of the next hill. There, next to a general store, was Carla’s hotel, but his bear insisted that she wasn’t there.
He didn’t know how he could tell her location, but he decided to trust his instincts. Diego drove straight through Pioche, his bear telling him to go forward. It made no sense, but that tingle of impending danger was growing stronger and stronger. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood up, like the hackles on a bear that rose when it was threatened or angry.
Carla needs me , he thought. I don’t know how, or why, but if anyone has hurt my mate, I’m going to kill them .
He was driving past an unremarkable hill, a sharp crest of gravel and sandy dust that looked exactly like every other hill outside of Pioche, when his bear roared, There! Mate!
Diego slammed on the brakes and pulled his truck over to the shoulder of the road, leaving a streak of black rubber on the asphalt and raising a thick cloud of dust from the dirt. He launched himself out of the truck, not bothering to lock the door behind him, and raced up the hill.
It was like his chest had a compass in it, one that pointed straight toward his mate, and all he had to do was follow it. It wasn’t a feeling a human would have been able to understand, but Diego was more than human: he was a bear. And right now, he was a pissed off bear, one who cared about nothing except for finding his mate and protecting her.
He reached the top of the hill and there, on the other side, was Carla, surrounded by most of the Sullivan wolf pack. He’d barely registered the sight before his bear exploded out of him.
Normally shifting was a long, slow process that required Diego to focus on the feeling of being a bear, but this change happened in seconds. His bones lengthened, his muscles extended, fur grew from his skin until he was entirely covered. He dropped from two legs down onto four, and by the time his hands hit the dirt, they’d become paws. Nearly a ton of grizzly bear landed, enough to shake the ground.
Diego roared, his fury echoing off the hills. The people below simultaneously swung around to face him. Diego started for the one who was holding his mate; faced with an oncoming angry grizzly, the man immediately let go of Carla and took a few steps back, then transformed into a wolf.
Carla screamed at the sight, but Diego had no time to reassure her. Two of the other Sullivans also changed, moving to either side of their brother to back him up. They snarled and snapped at the air, but none of them wanted to be the first to attack a bear, and so they stayed back, waiting for
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