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Authors: Claire Branson
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along his sides, exploring the line of his waist below the worst of the damage, the taper of his hip. His free arm slid beneath her, and his hand settled against her hip, just where the hem of her shirt had ridden up a bit and he could press his big warm palm to her skin. It felt good.
A kiss or ten turned into a good deal more than ten, and Erin was beginning to wonder if there wasn’t a way to take it a little farther without stressing his ribs when he rolled them over so that he settled above her on his elbows, looking down at her. Loose locks of his hair curled around his temples and over his forehead. He was smiling.
“Look at it this way,” he said, leaning down and brushing a kiss over her lips, her cheek, her forehead. “There are a lot of places you could be right now, but wouldn’t you rather be here?”
Erin tangled her fingers in his hair and drew him down for another kiss, and then another.
“Yes,” she answered when they had broken apart again to catch their breath, their chests rising and falling in quick motions. “I would rather be here.”
And it was true. She wasn’t sure she believed in love at first sight, but there was something between them that went beyond want, and maybe it was just the adrenaline. Maybe they had bonded over the near death experience in her apartment, but for the moment, they had what they had, and they were here. Safe. Sharing a bed in the slanting light of afternoon in a big old house in the middle of the woods, and there was pretty much nowhere else she would rather be.
Erin wrapped an arm around Devlin’s shoulders as he settled his weight carefully down, until he was almost touching her, one arm curled under her head, and the other still supporting his body beside her.
“Oh,” he said suddenly, looking down at her with a grin. “My name. It’s Devlin Randall.”
Erin laughed, and pulled him down for another kiss.
THE END
Enchanted by the Bear
Bear Shifter Romance
Enchanted by the Bear
My name, for what that is worth, is Aurelius. I am, at this moment, sitting at my writing-desk in a far-flung corner of the Russian empire. Just last century, it was the governorship of Smolensk. Kingdoms crumble, empires tear themselves apart. Somehow, I still persist.
I suppose I should clarify this for you, the reader. My life is almost infinitely-long, because I live between two worlds. I spend half the year in the form of a bear.
Well, yes. Once you have recovered from the shock of that, perhaps we can proceed? Very well.
It is an ancient curse set upon my family in the mists of time. The reason for the curse long-forgotten, my ancestors have finally passed on after perhaps a thousand years. That brings me to the other problem: indefinitely-long life. As I am the only man living to experience such a thing, I cannot make a study of it, but it seems shape-shifting as I know it makes you close to immortal. Not quite immortal, as my ancestors are dead, but problematically close. That is the central problem of my life. We will come to that.
You may ask why I write this account. It is so I do not forget. After the hibernation and transition between shapes, the memory is cloudy, almost gone. Even one's own appearance is forgotten.
To this end, I should describe myself. Last time I looked (for mirrors are a rare commodity), the glass showed me a tall man with muscled shoulders and a fine-boned, patrician face. Long pale hair, which I have never tonsured and large golden eyes. I must admit I am rather pleased with the image I saw, although in all piety I should not admit that.
Now that you (and I) have a record of my looks, let us address the matter at hand.
Hibernation.
I would tell you of it if I could. The thought of hibernation occurs to me now, as it is linked inextricably to the essence of my story. Kyrila .
It was winter when I saw her.
Golden. She outshone the russet and oranges of
A kiss or ten turned into a good deal more than ten, and Erin was beginning to wonder if there wasn’t a way to take it a little farther without stressing his ribs when he rolled them over so that he settled above her on his elbows, looking down at her. Loose locks of his hair curled around his temples and over his forehead. He was smiling.
“Look at it this way,” he said, leaning down and brushing a kiss over her lips, her cheek, her forehead. “There are a lot of places you could be right now, but wouldn’t you rather be here?”
Erin tangled her fingers in his hair and drew him down for another kiss, and then another.
“Yes,” she answered when they had broken apart again to catch their breath, their chests rising and falling in quick motions. “I would rather be here.”
And it was true. She wasn’t sure she believed in love at first sight, but there was something between them that went beyond want, and maybe it was just the adrenaline. Maybe they had bonded over the near death experience in her apartment, but for the moment, they had what they had, and they were here. Safe. Sharing a bed in the slanting light of afternoon in a big old house in the middle of the woods, and there was pretty much nowhere else she would rather be.
Erin wrapped an arm around Devlin’s shoulders as he settled his weight carefully down, until he was almost touching her, one arm curled under her head, and the other still supporting his body beside her.
“Oh,” he said suddenly, looking down at her with a grin. “My name. It’s Devlin Randall.”
Erin laughed, and pulled him down for another kiss.
THE END
Enchanted by the Bear
Bear Shifter Romance
Enchanted by the Bear
My name, for what that is worth, is Aurelius. I am, at this moment, sitting at my writing-desk in a far-flung corner of the Russian empire. Just last century, it was the governorship of Smolensk. Kingdoms crumble, empires tear themselves apart. Somehow, I still persist.
I suppose I should clarify this for you, the reader. My life is almost infinitely-long, because I live between two worlds. I spend half the year in the form of a bear.
Well, yes. Once you have recovered from the shock of that, perhaps we can proceed? Very well.
It is an ancient curse set upon my family in the mists of time. The reason for the curse long-forgotten, my ancestors have finally passed on after perhaps a thousand years. That brings me to the other problem: indefinitely-long life. As I am the only man living to experience such a thing, I cannot make a study of it, but it seems shape-shifting as I know it makes you close to immortal. Not quite immortal, as my ancestors are dead, but problematically close. That is the central problem of my life. We will come to that.
You may ask why I write this account. It is so I do not forget. After the hibernation and transition between shapes, the memory is cloudy, almost gone. Even one's own appearance is forgotten.
To this end, I should describe myself. Last time I looked (for mirrors are a rare commodity), the glass showed me a tall man with muscled shoulders and a fine-boned, patrician face. Long pale hair, which I have never tonsured and large golden eyes. I must admit I am rather pleased with the image I saw, although in all piety I should not admit that.
Now that you (and I) have a record of my looks, let us address the matter at hand.
Hibernation.
I would tell you of it if I could. The thought of hibernation occurs to me now, as it is linked inextricably to the essence of my story. Kyrila .
It was winter when I saw her.
Golden. She outshone the russet and oranges of
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