Page 12 of Ignited By My Mate

“I can shift into a bear. So can others in my pack. We’re born with it. We live among humans, but we’re not exactly like them.” He pauses again, searching my face for a reaction.

I try to swallow, but my mouth is dry. “You’re telling me you… turn into a bear?”

“Yeah.”

I stare at him.

“I know how it sounds,” he rushes on. “But I’m not lying. I wouldneverlie to you. We have something called a fated bond—it’s a deep connection between shifter and mate. When we find our mate, our other half, weknow. Instantly. And you’re mine, Lark.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. It’s sharp and disbelieving. I immediately feel bad when I see his expression shift—like I’ve gutted him.

“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “It’s just… that’s a lot. You’re a firefighteranda werebear?”

“Shifter,” he corrects gently. “And I get it. I don’t expect you to believe me right away. But Icanprove it.”

I narrow my eyes. “How?”

“Watch.”

“This is insane,” I mutter as he stands and heads into the living room where there’s more space.

I watch him warily. Until he starts to strip.

“Whoa!” My jaw drops. “Wait—what are you doing?”

“Not trying to scare you, I promise,” he says, half smiling. “But my clothes don’t shift with me. You’ll want to stand back.”

I turn away, averting my eyes until he clears his throat.

“Ready?”

I turn back around, keeping my eyes locked on his face, and watch him. It takes a minute, but then it happens. In the time it takes me to blink?—

Hechanges.

One moment, Harris is standing there—tall, solid, real—and the next, a massive bear is in his place. Thick gray-and-gold fur. Bright amber eyes. Muscular and majestic andutterly impossible.

I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again.

My head spins, and I feel dizzy.

Nothing. I have nothing. No words, just…

My knees buckle.

The last thing I hear before everything fades to black is the soft, worried whine of a bear rushing toward me.

SIX

Harris

Well…that didn’t go how I hoped.

One second, I’m shifting to show Lark the truth.

The next, she’s crumpling to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut.

“Lark!”

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