A Christmas to Bear Read online

  You’re alive, she thought. That’s something. Be grateful. Smiling, though, was no longer a valid option.

  Aria knew that the force with which she’d hit the tree was too great; there was no way she’d gotten off without collateral damage. The idea that she should actually assess the repercussions of the collision was too awful, however. It meant looking at a leg that was in all likelihood bleeding, or worse. Yet at first there was no pain. Only a feeling of shock. She couldn’t even recall where she’d hit, only that she had.

  Nausea and dizziness hit her when she finally sat up and looked down at the leg. There was, thankfully, no obvious sign of damage. Maybe she’d hit at the perfect angle. Maybe she had superpowers and her bones were astonishingly hard. Maybe she could get down the mountain and no one would ever find out what an idiot she was, in spite of the solitary ski that was probably now being examined as evidence of the missing, foolish, lonely skier who would learn to live in the woods, consuming only snow and grubs for sustenance.

  Aria spent a few minutes collecting her thoughts before she had the courage to try and stand. Somehow, in all the mayhem, she’d held onto her ski poles. She used them to push herself up, tentatively rising onto her left foot, now a newborn fawn with only one leg, even more unstable than before.

  Success. Verticality had been achieved. And now it was time to shift some weight to her right foot.

  Here we go. Just lean a little to the right and put your foot down. You can do it, Aria. Just a little…

  And that was the moment when she knew that she was royally screwed.

  Something in her calf felt as though it would bend the wrong way and give out entirely if she were foolish enough to put an ounce more of her weight onto it; all Aria knew in that second was that causing herself further damage was not an option. Hot tears came into her eyes as she looked around, scanning the densely wooded mountainside for hints as to an escape plan. How would she get out of this? Hop down the mountain, hoping that a broken leg wouldn’t be an issue while she did so on a surface made up entirely of snow and ice? No, that would be insane. But the awful truth was that it was the only thing to do.

  She reached down, wincing as she tried to undo the binding on her left ski. If she could manage to hop at all in the clumsy boot it would be an amazing feat. And too ridiculous for words.

  The ski popped off at last and she was free. She planted her poles in the ground and freed herself by hopping once to the left, deftly avoiding the accursed ski that had served as her toboggan. That one brief leap was brutal. Pain shot up her leg as she landed, renewing the feeling of nausea with a vengeance.

  She hopped again, one step, then another, and another, until she could lean against the trunk of a nearby tree. The distance back to the ski hill now seemed like a thousand miles. Aria recalled a film she’d seen about a man who’d fallen and shattered his leg, then dragged himself miles to safety through a frozen landscape. That guy probably weighed 110 pounds, she thought. And he probably had something to live for, someone who loved him. I may as well let myself get eaten by wolves. At least they’d be happy about it.

  Of course, around Wolf Rock, one was as likely to run into shifters as actual wolves. As she attempted a few more hops, Aria distracted her mind from the pain by asking herself if shifters ate wounded women.

  As she covered the space between herself and the next tree, she noted silently the distance that stood between herself and the ski hill, which she estimated to be at least eighty feet. And once she reached it she’d have to make her way down without the assistance of strong vertical tree trunks for support. Her only meager hope was that someone would see her and come help. Or maybe send a helicopter for her. And a keg of whiskey. Not necessarily in that order.

  She made another resolution as she inched forward: this was the last time she’d take a vacation alone that involved death–defying activities. Next time, she vowed silently, she’d head to a pillow factory.

  Breathing heavily, she tried to fill her mind with everything but the fact that her leg was toast. Puppies. Flowers. Even her ex–boyfriend. Rage aimed at him would be easier to take than this pain. If only she could transfer her own agony to his lying, cheating ass.

  She hopped again. Next tree. Well done, Aria. Keep up the pace. You can do it. Smile.

  This time the smile came out as a wince. A grimace, really. The sort of facial expression that would repulse men and make women coo in sympathy. But no tears. Not right now. Just the determined facial twisting of a strong, independent woman who’s perfectly capable of looking after herself.

  At the seventh tree she slumped to the ground, allowing herself to sit on the firm earth around the trunk which offered a sort of island for her to rest on, albeit not the most comfortable one. She put her head back, closing her eyes.

  “Do I pray for death or just hope this’ll be a great story to tell my grandkids?” she muttered out loud. Then she laughed. A low, guttural sort of chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all. It was only when the pain came back with a vengeance that she decided to rise again, and she pushed with her hands, trying to lift herself, her back against the tree’s trunk.

  It was then that a sound tore her focus away from the agony. A twig cracked. No, not a twig. Something bigger. A large branch, at the very least. And the snap echoed through the woods, reminding her of the awful sound of a bone breaking. What the hell was that? She slumped down further. Maybe it was help. A search party. A herd of half–naked men with six–packs, come to rescue her from her cruel fate, to place her on a stretcher and massage her, feed her magical drugs and examine her under warm lights before putting a cast on her leg and making sweet love to her… Even one man with strong arms would do. The sex would be a nice bonus, but not absolutely essential.

  “Hello?” she said, her voice more tentative than she’d intended. Then, attempting a confident tone, she added, “Hello, is anyone there? I’m hurt. Could you help me?”

  The source of the snapping replied only by continuing its approach as more branches fell victim to their tormentor. Behind Aria the noise continued in a steady rhythm. Snap….snap…snap.

  Then, a new sound. A sort of huffing. Heavy breathing. Oh, jeez. Maybe there was some perverted old man living in the woods. What were the odds?

  Aria turned to her right, looking around the tree trunk. Nothing.

  To her left now, head twisting around slowly.

  And then she froze.

  The enormous face in front of hers wasn’t human. And it was no wolf come to eat her, though in no way was she confident that she wouldn’t be dinner. The bear’s head was at least twice as large as her own, and its nostrils contracted and expanded with each huff aimed towards her. At last, a sensation to numb the pain.

  Fear.

  Chapter 2

  The polar bear stared into the woman’s eyes, his own cold, deep and dark. He seemed at first only to be interested in her face, enjoying the visual feast as the fearful victim before him recoiled in something like terror.

  Good, he thought. She should be afraid.

  He’d seen her out there, on the chair lift and again heading down the hill on her alluring, unstable legs. Something about her appealed to him; maybe it was her face, which was an expressive mixture of beauty and emotion. Or maybe it was the curvaceous body which no amount of winter clothing could conceal. Hips and breasts on a woman were a joy to behold, even for a man who didn’t get to enjoy the sight very often. Perhaps even more for such a man.

  He watched now as her head pushed itself back against the tree and her eyes closed, as though she were resigning herself to the notion that he was about to tear her throat out. She even raised her head as if to offer herself to him.

  Oh, come on, he thought. Really? I’m not a goddamn vampire.

  “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she muttered. “I have the most stupid life on the planet.”

  If bears could laugh, he would have done so in that moment. Yes, he supposed that this was the last thing on a young wo
man’s fantasy list. But why was she sitting under a tree so far from the ski hill? More importantly, why had she wandered onto his land? Yes, she was a crappy skier. But so many others were, yet no one had entered this part of the woods in ages. And he liked it that way. It was best for him, but more importantly, for them. Only an idiot would dare come close to his domain.

  She really was pretty, this errant, foolish young woman. That at least he could admit to himself, taking pleasure in admiring her physical appearance as she sat as still as a painting. Her hair was long and dark, a little wavy. Her skin was light, the sort of ivory shade that one had to protect from the sun. And her lips, sealed shut as though in some sort of protective stance, were full and pink. He’d always had a soft spot for pouty lips.

  The woman’s eyes still shut tight, the bear backed off a few inches and shifted into human form.

  * * *

  The huffing ceased, and the hot breath that Aria had felt seconds before seemed to recede. She allowed one blue eye to pry itself open.

  Well, now she knew without a doubt what had happened: she was dead. The collision had killed her. And now she was on her way to heaven. A naked man–a large naked man whose body was coated in a series of muscles that could only be likened to those that might belong to a bronze statue of some sort of warrior god–stood in front of her. As her other eye opened she thought of pinching herself. Pinching him might have been nicer, though.

  The man crossed his arms in front of his chest. Clearly he felt no need to hide what was between his legs, and Aria could see why; if any part of her looked that good, she thought, she would have been naked all the time.

  “What are you doing on my land?” asked the man, his deep voice breaking the cold stillness and sending a chill through her.

  “I…your land? What are you talking about? This is a ski hill.” Aria’s eyes, which had been fixed between the man’s legs, shot to his face.

  “No. That,” said the man, pointing behind him towards the bare bit of white that still seemed miles away, “is a ski hill. This is my territory. And you should not be on it.”

  “Tell that to my ski. It brought me here.” Aria looked around for the solitary plank that she’d left behind, betrayed by its mate.

  “Your inability to perform an incredibly simple physical task doesn’t excuse you from invading my space. Please leave now.”

  Now Aria crossed her arms. Who the hell did this guy think he was?

  “Listen, buddy. I suppose you think you’re Mr. Fantastic because you can shift into a giant white teddy bear and hang around the woods all naked and buff. But I have as much right to be here as you do. Besides, I can’t leave. If I could, I would have done so some time ago.”

  “My profound apologies. I didn’t realize that you’d been attached to the tree with a length of chain.” The man leaned forward and examined the tree’s trunk as though serious, and it took Aria a moment to realize that polar bear shifters were into sarcasm.

  “I may as well be chained to it. My damn leg’s screwed up. I think it’s broken.” With that, her voice trembled slightly. Aria found herself wishing once again for her mother.

  The shifter’s face softened for a moment, and Aria almost thought that he felt something like remorse for his harshness. Probably not, though.

  “Can you stand?” he asked.

  “No. Not on both legs. If you look back, you’ll see from my tracks that I hopped here.”

  The man turned and studied the series of left–footprints that she’d left behind. “I see,” he said. “Well, you’re not going to be able to hop all the way down the hill. This isn’t the bunny slope, you know.”

  “I see what you did there,” said Aria, annoyed enough to resist the smile that wanted to form. “Forgive me if I’m not in the mood for cute and not very funny humour. So what do you suggest?”

  The shifter knelt down in front of her, his knees sinking into the shallow layer of firm snow. Aria’s eyes moved to his thighs, which were thick and muscled, wondering if he felt the cold as she did. From what was nestled between the thighs she guessed not. No shrinkage. Or if there was, she would be intensely curious to see what happened when he hit the tropics.

  Utterly uninterested in where her eyes were focused, the man reached for her right leg. Aria winced, inadvertently yanking her knee towards her chest, an action which hurt like a bitch.

  “Please,” he said. “I would like to help you, believe it or not.”

  “Um, thank you,” she said. It sounded more like a question than anything; this offer of assistance seemed uncharacteristic of the man she’d just met. He didn’t strike her as a generous soul, somehow.

  “I want you off my land. The only way to get you there is to heal you. Or carry you, and that would mean being seen. Not a great idea.”

  So his generosity is founded in selfishness. Despite being half polar bear, he is in fact a typical man, thought Aria.

  She let her leg straighten again, expecting him to attempt to push the fabric which covered it upwards to assess the damage. But instead he placed his hand on her gently, as though he were caressing a feather. He began at the top of her thigh and allowed his hand to slip all the way down to her boot. As the hand passed over each inch Aria felt herself relax, the tension in her body leaving her. But what was more striking was that her pain seemed to disappear as he moved; the bone in her calf, which had been causing such torment, suddenly felt whole again.

  “What are you…?” She didn’t complete the sentence. Instead she allowed him to finish, watching his face. It seemed to her that his features contorted in a sort of pain of their own, as though he were feeling what she had felt, the excruciating agony of it all moving into his own body.

  When at last he removed his hand, his face returned to a state of relaxation and he simply looked into her eyes again and said, “Stand up.”

  “I can’t. I…”

  “Stand.”

  He raised himself to his feet and offered her his right hand. She took it with her left and pulled herself up, hesitant to put weight onto her right leg. When at last she did, there was none of the previous shooting agony. In fact, aside from a sort of residual ache, there was no pain at all.

  She was able to take him in now. He was tall, a good head taller than her, and she was a woman of five–foot–nine. Dark brown eyes peered at her from under a thick head of sandy blond hair. His jaw was square and stubbled, his lips soft and full. Had she seen him on the street she might have assumed that he was an athlete, but not a bear shifter. Certainly not a polar bear. She’d never even heard of such a thing.

  “What did you just do to me?” she asked.

  “I used my gift.” He was examining her face now and Aria felt self–conscious, unaccustomed to being so near a beautiful man, let alone having one scrutinize her. She wondered if he found her repulsive, then reprimanded herself. It didn’t matter. He was just a guy. A guy who could turn into a bear then heal her broken leg with his mind and hand. But still. Just a guy.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you mean by that,” she said.

  “We shifters have gifts. Skills that most humans can’t fathom, let alone access themselves. Some can read minds. Some can see the future. I heal. It’s what I am able to do.”

  “That’s amazing,” she seemed to whisper. “You’re amazing. But did that hurt you?”

  “I’m fine. It only hurts for a moment.” His voice was tender and soft, then he seemed to straighten, his face taking on a distant look of resolve. “And as I said, I only did it so that you would leave.”

  “So you want me gone?” she asked. She had no idea why; it was a stupid question. Of course he did.

  “I…did want you gone,” he said. “So you should go.”

  But instead of backing off and letting her walk by, he took a step closer to her, his body in direct contradiction to his words. His right hand landed on her waist, gently squeezing her through her ski jacket. Aria looked first at his face and then her eyes be
gan to navigate their way around his form again. Sweat was beading on his chest, and a few drops were sliding down his taut flesh. Somehow in the cold his body was hot, agitated as though he’d exerted himself.

  A trickle of perspiration seemed to lead her eyes to another sight. Pointing up towards her face was his swollen cock, its length and girth certainly worthy of a polar bear shifter. It seemed in this moment to act like a barrier between them, keeping the two apart. He seemed aware of its state and unwilling to allow it to touch her, but she wanted nothing more in that instant than to put her hands on him, an unrelenting attraction replacing anything she’d been feeling minutes earlier.

  As she stared, salivating, she felt her eyes widen and then, blushing, returned her gaze to his face.

  “You’re…” she began, before reminding herself that pointing out a stranger’s arousal was generally frowned upon. “I mean, I don’t even know your name.” Her voice was breathy, as though she’d been hit in the chest. Despite the lack of pain, she felt as though something had winded her, though what it was, she couldn’t begin to say.

  “Lucian,” he said. He dropped his hand to his side as though he’d never intended to touch her in the first place.

  “I’m Aria.” The response was given in spite of the lack of a question.

  “Aria.”

  She loved the sound of her name on his lips.

  His eyes still fixed on her own, his hand went to her cheek and he swept her hair back, hooking it behind her ear.

  “You should leave me now, Aria.”

  “Could you help me? I mean, I don’t see how I can make it down the mountain.” She knew by this point that she could, but everything in her told her to keep him in her life longer, even if only for a few minutes.

  “You’ll be fine,” he said. “I can’t go with you. I never go into town.”

  “Why not?”

  For a moment Aria thought she saw anger in his face, a reaction to her question. Quickly he managed to calm whatever emotion was trying to emerge.