Page 7 of In Love With the Leshy

Once the first bear is out of sight, I back my trembling body up slowly, careful not to put my full weight on my right leg as I keep my eyes glued to the furry giant.

“Thanks for talking some sense into your buddy.” He tilts his head, evaluating me. “Assuming you guys are friends,” I babble, too nervous to do anything else, and thank my lucky stars that this seems to entertain the animal. I don’t know what I’ll do when I run out of things to say or he’s no longer amused. “I’m not sure if you’re his friend or his alpha.” I take a few baby steps back. The bear stays put. “Do bears have alphas?” I ask the creature staring at me. “I never heard of them traveling together the way wolves do. Not unless you’re his mother, and that was your cub. I get that you’re twice his size, but no way that was a baby bear. It was way too big. And you look a lot more like a daddy bear than a mommy bear,” I keep talking.

The bear doesn’t answer. Instead, it approaches me, slow and steady, rubbing against the side of my leg as it passes. Can it hear my heart thumping like mad against my chest? I’m not sure if this is a sign of affection or preparation for an attack, much in the way a shark bumps its prey.

I hold still, unsure of which direction to go. The last thing I want to do is make a wild animal feel threatened by following close behind. I turn so I can watch him. If he’s going to attack me and tear me to pieces, I want to know it’s coming.

The bear stops walking and looks back at me like he’s expecting me to follow. A low growl rumbles in his throat. The sound isn’t aggressive or threatening. I’m surprised by the color of his large eyes. I expect them to be brown like the other bear’s; instead, green and gold flecks combine, making the color hard to distinguish. They gleam with kindness. For a moment, I forget he’s wild and liken him to a large dog.

“What do you want, boy?” I ask in a shaky voice, questioning my sanity again. He moans while motioning his head forward. “You want me to follow you?” I swear he nods. “You understand me?” With an affirming moan, he lifts his head up and down.

I don’t care what he’s trying to say; I’m not about to be lured into his lair. Again, I’m giving him too much credit, thinking he’s trying to trick and trap me. Bears don’t have complex schemes. And they don’t talk to people. Cartoon bears that you sacrifice picnic baskets to, maybe. But not real live ones. I may be crazy, but I still have enough working brain cells to know that. I dig my heels in, staying where I am. Unsure of what to do.

I hold my breath as the giant creature takes slow, non-threatening steps toward me. As if it’s possible for a bear to not be threatening when you’re in his domain. Again, he walks close enough to rub his thick fur against me. Oh god, what if this is his form of foreplay? Shit. Shit. Shit! I may be in even worse trouble than just being torn to shreds.

He circles my legs, turning until he’s back facing the direction he came from. He stands still. Waiting. Is he trying to herd me?

Without thinking, I sink my hand into his thick, luxurious fur. He shocks me by responding with a soft moan as he rubs his head against my hip.

I look down into his curious eyes. He looks so sweet and gentle. Like a big, cuddly teddy bear. I have to remind myself that he’s not made of fluff and stuff. He’s flesh and blood, with giant fangs and claws that he might use on me in the blink of an eye.

What’s weird is I don’t feel threatened by him. At all. He seems comfortable with me. I’m filled with a strange warmth as I stare at him. His eye color looks different close-up. The gold flecks look like they’ve multiplied and almost overtaken the green completely. Oh, no. I’m looking in his eyes. Isn’t that considered a sign of aggression?

He doesn’t seem agitated by my non-threatening challenge. Any other animal would have turned on me for being so brazen as to look them in the eye.

“You are a sweet boy,” I say, feeling more comfortable than I should. “So handsome. And tame. Have you been trained?”

The bear rubs his snout against my legs. An inner warmth trickles through me. I’m not as frightened. Instead, I feel calm and reassured. But not so much that I’m willing to let my guard down. I still have a healthy dose of angst, and that anxiety has its benefits.

Fear keeps me grounded in reality. This is a bear, I remind myself. He’s bigger, stronger, and lethal. Fear keeps me cautious. It stops me from wrapping my arms around the animal’s warm, furry neck and nestling my head there. The problem is the longer I’m with him, the less of a threat he seems and the less adrenaline I have pumping through my veins.

Fear is replaced with warmth, negating caution and allowing me to recognize that this animal is friendly. He feels more like a pet or a companion. I fight the urge to drop to my knees and hug or cuddle with him.

Get a grip! My common sense scolds me. These thoughts are lunacy and need to stop immediately!

I look at the good-natured bear. Being close to him messes with my mind. I need to sneak away so I can clear my head, then find my way out of this damn forest and back to my car. The problem is I have no idea where I’ll go after that. Assuming I make it that far. I can’t go back home. If Nikolai manages to escape, he’ll be waiting there for me.

I look up between the tree tops at the feigning remnants of daylight. “Okay, Buddy Bear, I’m going to back up and see if I can find my way out of here.”

The bear growls in what seems like disapproval. Or maybe his disposition is changing because he has a rumbly tummy. Either way, I’m not about to hang around and find out.

Chapter 5

If I had more than a five-foot clearing open to me, I’d run. I’d probably fall face first and get caught up in roots and vines that seem to appear out of nowhere and have a mind of their own, but the wall of trees is only a few feet away. Instead, I work slowly, trying to forge my way back through the thicket to safety. That’s if the bears, snakes, or winding vines don’t get me first.

“It’s been real,” I say to my unexpected friend, backing up and keeping my eyes glued to the animal that is either my savior or promises to be the death of me.

Once I hit a tree, I foolishly summon up the courage to turn my back on the bear and focus on what’s ahead of me.

“If you think he might save you, why are you trying to escape him?” A deep voice stops me as I squeeze through two thick trunks.

I don’t move. I don’t breathe, and I definitely don’t look behind me. Bears can’t speak, I remind myself. I know it’s not Nikolai or one of his not-so-merry-men. They would never talk to me with such kindness. No one else would be crazy enough to be out here in the choose-your-own-death forest. I close my eyes and swallow hard as my body trembles with fear.

“You’re losing your mind,” I say to myself. “That’s all this is. A mirage created out of fear.”

“I’m no delusion.” The same voice, a voice that’s so deep it’s almost too low to process, reads my thoughts and breaks through my self-talk.

Very slowly, I spin around so that I’m looking at where I last saw the bear. My mouth drops at the sight of a man. I think he’s a man. He stands upright on two legs and speaks, but—Is he a man?

---