Page 8 of Bear Love's Hidden Destiny
Three figures emerged from the trees, their movements sharp and predatory. The one in the lead, a tall man with a shaved head and a scar across his jaw, stepped forward, his eyes glinting with malice. Another was already shifting, his body twisting into a lean, gray wolf, its hackles raised, teeth bared. The third, smaller, with twitchy movements and a blade in his hand, hung back, his gaze darting between Benedict and the hollow. Something about them felt wrong, dark, like their presence poisoned the air.
“Hand her over, Avila,” the scarred man said, his voice cold. “She doesn’t belong here.”
Benedict’s bear growled, a low rumble that shook the ground. “She’s under my protection,” he said, his voice distorted but clear, vibrating through his massive form. “Walk away.”
The scarred man laughed, sharp and bitter. “Your protection? Her blood threatens the balance. The Council wantsher dealt with before the old magic spreads. You know what that means.”
My heart pounded, my grip tightening on the journal. These weren’t scouts, they were enforcers, or worse, sent to hunt me down. The wolf snarled, crouching low, and the twitchy man raised his blade, his voice high and tense. “Don’t make this harder, Avila. Give us the girl, or we take her.”
Benedict didn’t answer with words. His bear lunged, a blur of muscle and fur, slamming into the wolf with a force that sent it skidding across the clearing. The wolf yelped, twisting to snap at Benedict’s flank, but he was faster, his claws raking down its side, drawing blood. The scarred man charged, a knife flashing in his hand, aiming for Benedict’s shoulder. Benedict roared, swatting him with a massive paw, sending him crashing into a tree with a sickening crack. The tree shuddered, needles raining down, but the man was already scrambling to his feet, his face twisted with rage.
The twitchy man darted in, his blade slicing toward Benedict’s side. I gasped, pressing myself against the hollow’s wall, my eyes locked on the fight. Benedict spun, his jaws snapping, catching the man’s arm. The blade fell, and the man screamed, stumbling back, clutching his wrist. The wolf recovered, leaping onto Benedict’s back, its teeth sinking into his shoulder. Blood sprayed, dark against his fur, and I bit my lip to keep from shouting. Benedict shook the wolf off, his massive head swinging to slam into it, knocking it to the ground. He didn’t let up, his claws tearing into the wolf’s side, pinning it as it thrashed and snarled.
The scarred man was back on his feet, circling Benedict, his knife glinting as he looked for an opening. “You’re making a mistake,” he spat, lunging forward. Benedict dodged, his bear form surprisingly agile, and caught the man’s leg in his jaws, yanking him off balance. The man hit the ground hard, his knifeskittering across the dirt. Benedict roared, standing over him, but the twitchy man was already running, vanishing into the shadows of the trees. The wolf whimpered, struggling to stand, then collapsed, its chest heaving. The scarred man groaned, trying to crawl away, but Benedict’s paw pressed down on his back, holding him in place.
The clearing fell silent, save for the heavy panting of the bear. I held my breath, my hands shaking as I clutched the journal. Benedict’s bear stood over the fallen enforcers, blood dripping from his shoulder, his side. Then he shifted back, his body rippling, fur giving way to skin, until he was human again, naked and trembling from the effort. Blood streaked his arm, his chest, and a deep gash ran across his ribs. He staggered slightly, catching himself against a tree, his breath ragged.
I ran to him without thinking, dropping the journal to steady him, my hands on his arms. “Benedict, are you okay?” I asked, my voice shaking as I looked him over. Blood was smeared across his shoulder, his chest, and the gash on his ribs looked bad, the skin torn and red. I pressed my hands to his chest, checking for more wounds, my fingers moving over his arms, his sides, my heart racing. “You’re hurt, you’re bleeding everywhere.”
“I’m fine,” he said, his voice strained, but he was standing, his eyes meeting mine. “You hurt?”
“No,” I said, my hands still searching his body, finding another cut on his forearm, a bruise forming on his back. “You are so brave but I don’t like it, you are putting yourself in danger.” My voice cracked, and I glared at him, my hands trembling as I pressed them to his chest.
He laughed, a low, rough sound that caught me off guard. “Danger’s part of the job, Isabella. I’m okay, really.”
“You call this okay?” I said, gesturing to the blood on his skin. “You could’ve died out there.”
“Take more than that to kill me,” he said, his grin fading as he saw the worry in my eyes. He reached for my hand, squeezing it. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
I shook my head, my throat tight, but I didn’t pull away. His eyes held mine, and I saw regret there, heavy and raw. “You know now,” he said softly. “Everything.”
I nodded, my heart still pounding. “Yeah. You’re a shifter. Like in my vision. Like the ones my grandfather knew.”
He looked away, his jaw tight. “I didn’t want you to see it like this.”
“But I did,” I said, stepping closer. “And I’m still here.”
He didn’t say anything, just looked at me, his eyes searching. I could see the weight of it all, the secrets, the fight, the bond between us. I leaned in close, pressing my forehead to his, my hands still on his arms. “What else are you hiding from me?” I whispered.
He closed his eyes, his breath warm against my face, but he gave no answer.
Chapter Eight
Benedict
I sat by the fire in the hollow, the flames casting flickering shadows across the stone walls, their light dancing like whispers of the past. My body still ached from the fight, the shift pulling at my muscles, but the pain was nothing compared to the weight in my chest. Isabella knew the truth now, what I was, what Esoterra truly was. She’d seen me shift, seen the bear tear through those rogues, and instead of running, she stayed. Her stubborn courage, her refusal to back down, was more dangerous than any rogue shifter could ever be. The mate bond between us hummed, strong and steady, but it made me uneasy. She was in deeper than she realized, and I wasn’t sure I could protect her from what was coming. The forest was awake, the Veil unstable, and her blood was the key to it all.
Isabella sat across from me, her journal open in her lap, her eyes bright with curiosity despite the blood and chaos we’d just faced. She flipped through the pages, her fingers pausing on the Veilborn symbol, the claw-and-flame rune that tied her to this place. “So,” she said, her voice light but pointed, “shifters. Tellme more. You said bears, wolves, hawks. How does it work? Are you born like this? And what’s with the different kinds?”
I leaned back against the wall, the fire’s warmth easing the ache in my shoulder. “Shifters are born, not made,” I said, settling in to explain. “It’s in the blood, passed down through families, tied to the magic of Esoterra. Long ago, before humans spread across the world, the forest chose certain bloodlines to protect it. Each type, bear, wolf, hawk, whatever, has a role. Bears like me, we’re grounded, tied to the earth, the roots of the forest. We’re protectors, keepers of the land’s heart. Wolves are tied to the wind, fast, loyal to their pack, they guard the borders. Hawks and other birds, they’re bound to the sky, scouts, messengers, seeing things from above. There are others, panthers, lynx, even rare ones like snakes, but each bloodline’s got its own strength, its own purpose.”
She nodded, her eyes wide, scribbling in the margin of her journal. “That’s incredible. So, like, what can you do? Besides turn into a giant bear, I mean. Are there special powers or something?”
I chuckled, rubbing my neck. “It’s not like comic books, but yeah, we’ve got abilities. Shifters heal faster than humans, especially after a shift. We’re stronger, senses sharper, sight, smell, hearing, all better than normal. Bears have raw power, can take a lot of damage and keep going. Wolves are quicker, more agile, great at tracking. Hawks can see a mouse from a mile up. Some bloodlines, the rare ones, have weirder stuff, like snakes with venom that messes with your head, makes you see things. But it all comes from the Veil, the magic that hides Esoterra. Without it, we’d just be human.”
She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “And the society? You keep mentioning the Council. Is it like a government? Do you have schools, jobs, or what?”
“It’s a community,” I said, poking at the fire to keep my hands busy. “The Council’s made up of elders from each major bloodline, bear, wolf, hawk, a few others. They make the rules, keep the peace, make sure the Veil stays strong. We don’t have schools like you’d think, but young shifters are trained by their families, taught to control the shift, to understand their role. Jobs depend on your bloodline, some are hunters, some are healers, some like me are rangers, watching the borders. Esoterra’s small, maybe a few thousand of us, spread out in hidden settlements. We keep to ourselves, avoid humans unless we have to.”
