Page 7 of Heir

I was seconds away from emptying my balls as the climax built like a motherfucking cyclone in my body. Baring my teeth again, I shut my eyes, but the booming crack from above made me open them again just in time to see the bright light crash through from the ceiling, hitting me in the chest like a spear. I knew there was a cat in the room, but it’d been asleep in the corner until then. When the lightning struck, the cat screeched and leaped onto my back.

The bartender—I think her name was Charlie?—screamed.

I roared.

She screamed even louder, probably because my roar was not at all human-like.

I plowed into her harder than ever. So hard she went flying forward, and headfirst through the drywall.

Thank fuck she missed the studs.

And my dick instantly went soft. Like instantly.

Like someone pricked a balloon with a fucking safety pin.

If I didn’t know what the lightning strike meant, I sure as fuck knew now.

My mate had come of age.

“What the fuck?” Charlie screamed, her head in the adjacent room. “What happened? Zandren, get me out of here!”

My cock had already slipped out, but I carefully extricated her from the wall, sitting her up on the disheveled bed. She looked stunned, and pissed, but not injured.

My bear growled inside, and I sniffed the air, catching the faintest scent of my mate. She was far away, but not so far that I couldn’t smell her. And no matter where in the world she was, I’d find her.

“I gotta go,” I said.

“W-what?” Charlie exclaimed. “What the fuck just happened?”

“I . . . Sorry.” Then I was out the door, naked, because clothes sucked and only restricted things.

It was past midnight, but bears have excellent night vision. I continued on over the gravel parking lot in my bare feet, heading toward the trees. The window slid open from her second-story bedroom, but I didn’t turn around and look. “You motherfucker,” she screamed out into the night.

I didn’t respond, but an owl off in the distance hooted.

Already, I’d forgotten her name.

The only name that mattered to me now was that of my mate.

After two hundred and thirty-six years alone, I finally had a mate.

I sniffed the air again. Her smell was sweet, but spicy. Floral too. Like lilacs and honeysuckle, with just a pinch of cayenne. Oh, my mate was already a decadent treat I would treasure.

Once I was out of sight of the tavern, I shifted into bear form, dropping to all fours as my spine arched, my hands and feet elongated, and my skull widened. My canine teeth lengthened, and soft, dense fur sprouted out from my skin. I was an eight-hundred-and-thirty-five-pound grizzly bear now and could run faster in this form than my human form. The only bear bigger than me was my father, the King, and he weighed in at nine forty.

Shaking my shaggy head, I took a moment to scratch my back on the trunk of a tree, really getting in good between my butt cheeks. Then I took off at a steady lope until I made it to the river. The wind blew steady and warm from the south, bringing my mate’s scent with it.

The closer to her I got, the stronger I could smell her.

It might take me hours, maybe even days, to reach her, but I would.

And when I did, I would make her mine. Together, we would have oodles of cubs and live a wonderful life. Just like my mother and father did with our family.

Spring was my favorite time of year. There was so much to eat. Baby bunnies were tender and a fun little snack. When I couldn’t catch one, I dined on fresh shoots of various tubers and plants, some of the many ripening berries, or delicious fish in the stream. I didn’t stop to eat much on my journey, but a bear needs to keep up his energy. So I made sure to grab breakfast, lunch, second lunch, snack, dinner, dessert, and a late-night snack on my way. Not too many meals, but just enough to keep me moving.

I ran throughout the day, arriving on the outer limits of Chase City, Washington, just as the wolves off in the mountains behind me started to howl. I knew a lot of wolves. Some were okay, but most were cocky fuckers. Not as slippery or cunning as fox shifters, but damned close. And the way they insisted on living in such giant communities and packs—no fucking thanks.

I wanted a nice den for my mate, our cubs, and myself. Somewhere secluded. Off the grid, perhaps. Where I could keep them all safe and we could just be together as a family.

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