Page 10 of Claimed By the Grumpy Shifter

"It doesn't have to be." He reaches out and touches my cheek, just a whisper of contact that makes my panties soaked. "Say yes, Christine."

The smart thing would be to say no. To thank him for the flowers and maintain professional boundaries and not get involved with the mysterious man who watches me from his window and makes me feel things I've never felt before.

But when I look into those amber eyes, when I see the hope and heat and something that looks almost like desperation, the word that comes out of my mouth is:

"Yes."

His smile is blinding, "Seven o'clock?"

I nod, not trusting my voice.

"I'll pick you up." He starts toward the door, then pauses and looks back. "And Christine? Wear something you feel beautiful in."

Then he's gone, leaving me standing in my flower shop with a bouquet of peonies and the feeling that my life just changed forever.

I lift the flowers to my nose and breathe in their sweet scent, and for the first time in my life, I feel like the heroine of my own romance novel.

It's terrifying.

It's wonderful.

And I can't wait for seven o'clock.

Chapter 5 - Marcus

I've been standing outside her building for ten minutes, and I'm starting to sweat.

Not from the cold. October in Cedar Falls has a bite to it that most people would find uncomfortable, but my bear runs hot enough that I barely notice the chill. No, I'm sweating because I can't remember the last time I was this nervous about anything.

Combat missions in hostile territory? No problem. Extracting wounded soldiers under fire? A normal Tuesday, but taking a beautiful woman to dinner?

Apparently, that's where I draw the line.

I adjust my tie for the fifth time, wondering if I'm overdressed. The navy suit felt right when I bought it this afternoon. The first new clothes I've purchased in years that weren't military-issued or purely functional. But now, standing on a small-town street corner waiting for my mate, I feel like I'm playing dress-up in someone else's life.

The bear paces restlessly beneath my skin, agitated by the confined space of formal clothing and the anticipation thrumming through my bloodstream. It doesn't understand why we're not upstairs already, why we haven't simply claimed what belongs to us. The concept of human courtship is lost on it. All it knows is that our mate is thirty feet away, separated by nothing more than a few walls and a staircase.

*Soon,* I tell it. *Patience.*

But patience has never been my strong suit, and it's definitely not the bear's.

I check my watch: 6:53. She said seven o'clock, and I've been here since six-thirty because the alternative was pacingaround my empty house. At least out here, I can smell her, that intoxicating blend of vanilla and roses that seems to cling to everything she touches. It's stronger tonight, probably because she's getting ready, and the bear practically purrs with satisfaction.

The restaurant I chose is twenty minutes away, a place called Rosemary’s Diner that the woman at the gas station recommended. I have no idea if it's the right choice. I have no idea if any of this is the right choice.

What I do know is that I've been thinking about Christine Parker every second since I left her shop this morning. The way her eyes went wide when I gave her those flowers, the soft gasp she made when I touched her cheek, the breathless "yes" that fell from her lips like a gift.

She felt it too. Whatever this thing is between us, she feels it.

The thought should be comforting, but instead it makes the stakes feel impossibly high. This isn't just dinner. It's the beginning of everything. The first step in a dance that will either end with her in my arms or with me losing the only thing that's ever mattered.

No pressure.

A light comes on in what I think is her bedroom window, and my pulse kicks up another notch. I can hear her moving around up there, the soft pad of bare feet on hardwood, the whisper of fabric against skin. My enhanced hearing picks up the sound of a drawer opening, the rustle of what might be lingerie, and I have to close my eyes and count to ten to keep from shifting right here on the sidewalk.

*Get it together, Steel.*

This is why I never should have pursued her. I'm not built for this kind of delicate maneuvering, this balance between human and animal, civilized and wild. I'm a blunt instrument, better suited to direct action than subtle seduction. But she deserves better than some caveman dragging her back to his lair, no matter what my bear thinks about the matter.

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