Page 37 of Fated to the Grizzly

I yearn to go in after her and take her in my arms, claim her once again. It’s been too long since I tasted her sweet pussy, sunk my cock deep inside her.

Soon, I tell my beast, desperate to pacify it. It’s getting harder to control by the day, more manic and jealous.

By the fifth day, I can see Scout’s spirit is tiring. Her feet start to drag, catching on the undergrowth. She’s bored of walking, and lonely too, I bet. My heart aches so bad for her.

Just after midday, I pick up a strong scent of humans—at least five of them. Scout starts walking faster and looking around like she recognizes her surroundings.

I fall farther back. Wouldn’t put it past these crazy preppers to have rigged up a watchtower.

I hear Scout’s fast, anxious breathing as she strides toward a beat-up-looking encampment. Then she stops dead.

Something’s wrong.

A gust of wind blows in my direction, and a sickening smell fills my nostrils.

16

Scout

Fuck.What’s happened?

I’m back, at long last. After so many days of trekking through the wilderness, my heart aching for my mate.

But something’s not right here.

The place looks deserted.

I take off toward our bunker at a run. “Mom? Dad?” I call.

But nobody answers.

I locate the concealed hatch that leads to the bunker, lift it up and climb down the steep flight of steps. There’s a terrible smell of vomit. I clap my hand over my mouth to stop myself from puking, too.

“Dad?”

“Scout?”

I stop dead. It’s my dad’s voice. But he doesn’t sound hostile and scathing like he usually does. He sounds…relieved?

I dash over to the sleeping area. He’s lying on his broken army cot and his face is gray, his skin coated with a greasy sheen.

“Dad!” I yell, my gut twisting. Despite everything, I can’t stand to see him like this. “What’s happened?”

“Dunno. Think I ate something,” he chokes out. “Been sick for two days now.”

“Ate what?” I look around the bunker wildly. All the family’s food comes in tins or packets, and the use-by dates are probably good until the apocalypse. Either that, or we eat freshly-caught meat.

“Maybe some tuna. One of the tins was weird…” He breaks off with a pained groan. Then he turns his head to puke in the bucket beside his bed.

I swallow hard, fighting the urge to retch.

Okay, I’ve got this. “Be right back,” I tell him. I run to the bathroom, hunt down a cloth and soak it in cold water. I come back and press it to his forehead.

“Thanks, honey.” There’s something new in the eyes that search mine. “You made it back.”

I clench my teeth. I’m not going to get into that now. “Where’s mom?” I ask instead.

“She went looking for you all.”

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