Page 10 of The Witch & the Grizzly

After a pause, he ordered the same tea, which came in a glass kettle where all the herbs and distinct flavorings floated just below a filter.

They did like their fancy drinks in these kinds of places, and their name, Blue Rose, dictated what the décor would be.

“For a moment, I was worried you might not come,” he said, sitting comfortably opposite her in a wicker chair, stretching out his long legs. He wrapped his hands neatly around his empty cup. “I may have panicked a bit when I realized I didn’t have your number. That seems to be what women do who don’t have an interest in meeting up later. But it’s never fair to assume, so apologize.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” she said. “I get it. Honestly, I just completely forgot to get your number, too. I was distracted by other things.”

“Mmm.” His smile seemed to increase in wattage, and Eva highly suspected that was the reason women turned to mush in his presence, unable to articulate a coherent sentence. His smile very nearly had that effect on her, but she resisted it.

Barely.

She began. “Okay, putting it bluntly, I’m about 90 percent certain we had a one-night stand, but I can’t remember much because I was drunk out of my mind. Do you remember me or what?”

He nodded slowly, one eyebrow raised, forming wrinkles on his brow. “I, regrettably, was also pretty drunk. It wasn’t a great evening for me… at first, I’ll be honest.”

“Oh? Tell me more.” She poured some tea for herself, and they both watched the pale brown liquid trickle into the cup as the steam curled off it. Her mind was full of questions at this point, and something between them drew her closer to him, though it was more about body language.

“It may be a bit too much information, and it’s not something I can explain in a sentence or two. You may get bored.”

“I don’t think I could be bored around you,” she said sincerely and smiled smugly when he blushed.

“We’ll see,” he replied, smiling and pouring tea for himself into a fancy porcelain teacup festooned with blue roses. “While I can’t remember some things about it, some other things are clear as daylight in my mind. I was close to graduation, close to wondering what kind of career I would have. For most of my life, I’d relied on my fae charm to breeze through conversations and connections. The boys and men around me were jealous of the power I had. They said I could click my fingers, and there’d be a woman. They’d laugh and ask me to save some for them. You know, that kind of thing.”

“Yeah, I can imagine,” she said, feeling a mild resentment for the type of men who enjoyed objectifying women and reducing them to side pieces rather than actual living, thinking beings. A small part of her worried he might be one of them since charm could mask a lot. However, he was prepared to tell his story, and she didn’t want to judge him unfairly on superficial assets rather than the thoughts and feelings within.

“When I was younger, I didn’t think anything much about it. I knew I had something everyone else wanted – and it gave me a big head; I was proud of it. So, yes, I used it. I went to parties in high school and I’d get girlfriends fast. I went through girlfriends fast. Guys would pat me on the back for it or shake their heads and be like, ‘Damn, again? He goes through them like a hot knife through butter,’ or whatever they said about it. The thing is – and this was something I avoided thinking about for a long time – any connection made based on a supernatural ability – is not a real connection.”

He rubbed his eyes as if whatever he remembered now was painful. She said nothing, waiting for him to continue – knowing at least from experience that if you waited patiently, the other person would break the silence.

“That was the real reason I went through so many girls. I didn’t actually want to. But it felt like nothing more than, ‘Hey, look who I bagged.’ I was objectifying the girls the same way the guys were, or the girls would wake up as if being released from a spell and go on their merry way, or their actual boyfriends, whom they’d cheated on with me – would find me and threaten me. It’s not easy to threaten someone like me since I can transform into a bear.”

“Yeah,” she breathed, eyes trailing over his muscles while trying not to objectify him too much since he was clearly pouring out his heart to her but very much liking what she saw. He had a beautiful, strong frame you didn’t want to mess with.

“It didn’t stop some of them from trying. It’s something about men. They see someone bigger than them snagging the women – and they want in on it. Sometimes, they tried to gang up on me. It was all about ego and jealousy. It was a good reminder that humans are just as animalistic as the bear within me, as much as they want to pretend otherwise.”

He continued, now sipping his tea for the first time and nodding his head approvingly. “As you might imagine, by the time I came to Dreadmor Academy, I’d never had a single serious relationship. All my connections were brief and fleeting. All I really knew was that humans desired the hunt, to claim or be claimed, to beat me up out of envy. I enjoyed the hunt because it was all I knew, but it reached a point where… it wasn’t enough anymore. Sorry, I know this is getting long. We can stop if you want.”

“Don’t stop,” she said. “It’s interesting. I’m happy you’re sharing. Please continue.”

His flush crept up his cheeks, and he rubbed his neck awkwardly. She grinned.

How adorable.

“If you insist,” he said grandly, puffing up a bit.

She fought not to burst out laughing, imagining he looked like a peacock fanning its feathers.

“Now, where was I?”

“You said it was not enough anymore.”

“Ah, yeah. It wasn’t. The hunt, as it were, the result leaves you so empty afterward. There’s nothing meaningful in it. All those people who talked about envying me. I don’t think they ever really understood how lonely it was being put on a pedestal, being treated and perceived in this way, and not being able to form any genuine connections because I would never know if they liked me for me or if they were responding to my magic with some weird primal animal attraction. There was even someone I was interested in, and we spent the night together, and she said to my face that it was fun, but ‘Fuckboys will only ever be fuckboys.’ So, yeah. That seemed to be who I was destined to be. That evening in the bar, those thoughts were hitting me hard. I was there to drink, to forget. My ‘friends’ were there, but they didn’t seem to care or notice.”

Eva’s memory flashed like lightning in her brain. She recalled a man slumped at the bar, slumped as if burdened, right before their encounter.

When Eva said nothing, Nathan took it as an invitation to tell the next part of his story. His voice grew rough from talking. “This woman caught me at possibly my worst moment. But she smiled and even asked how I was doing. We had drinks, then more drinks. I don’t really remember everything we said – though, now that I look at you, your hair, your expression, I’m sure. It just feels right. I think it was you.”

She held her breath at the just feels right comment, flattered, nervous, and intrigued. She simply nodded, not trusting herself to say anything at this point lest she break the strange but thrilling tension in the air. She feasted on the tension, feeling like she could inhale it and savor it, but she kept her expression perfectly neutral, not wanting to steer him away from his tale.

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