Page 2 of Bear Love's Hidden Destiny
I caught her just before she hit the rocks, my arms wrapping around her as the momentum of my shift carried us both clear of the drop. Her weight was light against my chest, but the impact of touching her hit me like a shockwave. A warmth sparked deep inside me, spreading fast, settling low in my gut like a fire I couldn’t put out. Her scent filled my lungs, cedar smoke and sunlight, wild and sharp, but there was something else beneath it, something that didn’t make sense. The Veil, the ancient magic that guarded Esoterra, should have stopped her. It should have burned her for stepping into our realm. Instead, it let her pass, and now she was in my arms, limp and breathing shallow, like she belonged here. I stood there for a second, heart pounding, trying to make sense of it. I’d never felt anything like this, not in all my years as a shifter.
I carried her through the trees, moving fast but careful, her head resting against my shoulder. The forest was quiet, too quiet, as I crossed the border into Esoterra territory. No alarms rang out, no wards flared to warn of an intruder. Just silence,like the land itself was holding its breath. My cabin sat in a small clearing ahead, a simple place built from logs and years of solitude. I pushed open the door and laid her on the bed, her dark hair fanning out on the pillow. A cut on her forehead was bleeding, not deep but enough to need attention. I grabbed a cloth and a bowl of water from the sink, cleaning the wound as gently as I could. My hands moved on instinct, but my mind was a mess, replaying the moment I saw her falling, the way my bear had roared to life without me calling it. I didn’t know her name, didn’t know why she was here, but something about her was pulling at me, hard.
I stepped outside to clear my head. The night air was cool, the mist curling through the pines. I let the shift take me, my body rippling into fur and muscle, the bear grounding me like it always did. Pacing the clearing, I tried to sort through what had happened. She wasn’t fully human, I was sure of it. Her scent carried an echo of something old, something tied to the bloodlines we thought were gone. The Council had been clear: anyone who crossed the Veil without permission was a threat. If they found out about her, they’d give me orders, and I knew what those would be. My bear growled at the thought, a low rumble in my chest. It didn’t want to hurt her. Neither did I.
I stayed out there for a while, letting the forest calm me. The stars were sharp above, the night alive with the usual sounds, crickets, an owl in the distance. But my thoughts kept circling back to her, to the way the Veil had let her through. By the time I shifted back and pulled on a pair of jeans and a flannel, I could hear her breathing change through the open window. She was waking up. I stepped inside, moving to the fireplace to stoke the flames, giving her space to come to. The logs crackled as I added another, the heat spreading through the small room. Behind me, the bed creaked, and I heard her gasp.
“Where am I?” Her voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet.
I turned, keeping my movements slow. She was sitting up, her eyes wide as she scanned the room, taking in the wooden walls, the single chair, the small table. Her hand went to the bandage on her forehead, and she winced, but her gaze locked on me, wary and sharp.
“You took a fall near the ridge,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Passed out. I’m Benedict, park ranger. I brought you here to patch you up.”
She didn’t relax, her body tense, like she was ready to bolt. “Here? Where’s here?”
“My cabin, just outside Fir Hollow,” I said, nodding toward the window. “You’re safe.”
Her eyes narrowed, flicking to the door, then back to me. “You carried me all the way here? From the ridge?”
“Yeah,” I said, turning back to the fire to avoid her stare. “It wasn’t far.”
She didn’t buy it, I could tell. Her next question came fast. “Did you see anything out there? A bear, maybe? Or something that looked like one?”
My jaw tightened. I poked at the fire, the lie already forming. “Probably a hallucination. Falls like that can mess with your head.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment, but I could feel her watching me, like she was trying to pick apart my words. “Right,” she said finally, her tone saying she wasn’t convinced. “Guess that makes sense.”
I nodded, glad she didn’t push it. Not yet. I grabbed a pot from the shelf and set it on the stove, pulling out some venison and potatoes from the fridge. “You hungry? I’ve got stew.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”
I kept busy, chopping vegetables, stirring the pot, anything to keep my hands moving while I tried to figure out what to do next. She was quiet, sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes never leaving me. When the stew was ready, I ladled it into two bowls and set one on the table in front of her. She took it, sitting across from me, her posture still guarded.
“I’m Isabella, by the way,” she said after a bite, her voice softer but still cautious. “Isabella Washington.”
“Benedict Avila,” I said, meeting her eyes for a second before looking back at my bowl.
“You live out here alone?” she asked, glancing around the cabin.
“Yeah,” I said. “Suits me.”
She nodded, taking another spoonful. “I’m an archaeologist. I was following a lead from my grandfather’s journal. It pointed me to the ridge.”
I kept my face neutral, but her words set off alarms in my head. A journal. Old bloodlines. The Council would lose it if they knew. “Your grandfather,” I said, keeping my tone casual. “He from around here?”
“No,” she said, her eyes on her bowl. “At least, I don’t think so. He traveled a lot. Never talked much about where he’d been. Just left me this journal when he died.”
“Sorry for your loss,” I said, and I meant it. She gave a small nod, her fingers tightening around the spoon.
We ate in silence after that, the fire crackling in the background. I could feel her studying me, like she was trying to figure out what I wasn’t saying. When she finished, she pushed the bowl away and leaned back, her eyes on the flames. “I should get back to town,” she said. “My Jeep’s still out there.”
“Trail’s too dangerous at night,” I said, setting my bowl down. “You can stay here. I’ll take the chair.”
She looked like she wanted to argue, but she glanced out the window at the dark and nodded. “Okay. Just for tonight.”
I cleared the table and stepped outside, telling her I was checking the perimeter. Really, I just needed air. The night was cold, the forest quiet except for the rustle of leaves. I leaned against the porch railing, my mind racing. She shouldn’t be here. The Veil shouldn’t have let her through. And that scent, that pull in my chest, it was more than just instinct. It was old, primal, like something the Council had warned us about. If she was tied to the lost bloodlines, she was dangerous, not just to me but to all of Esoterra. But my bear didn’t care about that. It wanted to protect her, to keep her close.
I stayed out there, watching the shadows, until the firelight in the cabin dimmed. She was probably asleep by now, or at least pretending to be. I didn’t trust myself to go back inside yet. The weight of what I had to do was heavy, heavier than it should’ve been. The Council would want answers. They’d want her gone, one way or another. But every time I thought about that, my bear pushed back, hard.
