Page 11 of Honey for the Bear

I grab the carving knife from the table, my hands trembling as I pick up the half-finished bear I’ve been working on for weeks.The wood feels solid beneath my fingers, grounding me for a moment, but even that doesn’t last.With a frustrated growl, I slam the knife down, the sharp clang echoing in the empty cabin.

I can’t stay here.Not like this.

***

Thewoodsswallowmewhole, their darkness a familiar comfort.The air is thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the distant rustle of leaves makes my bear stir.My feet pound against the ground, the rhythm steady and relentless, but it’s not enough to burn off the tension clawing at my insides.

The shift comes fast, ripping through me like a storm.My muscles stretch and twist, my skin burning as fur erupts along my arms and chest.My hands curl into massive paws, sharp claws digging into the dirt as I drop to all fours.

And then I’m running.

The world sharpens instantly, every scent, every sound amplified.The forest is alive around me—the scurry of a rabbit in the underbrush, the hoot of an owl overhead, the distant hum of bees near Hannah’s farm.

Her farm.

I veer sharply, my paws kicking up dirt as I change direction.My bear growls low and deep, the sound vibrating through my chest.It doesn’t care about the consequences.It doesn’t care about the risks.All it knows is that it wants her.

We can’t have her.

The thought is mine, but my bear doesn’t listen.It never does when it comes to Hannah.

I skid to a stop at the edge of her property, my massive form hidden in the shadows of the trees.Her farmhouse is quiet, the windows glowing softly with warm light.I can see her silhouette through the window, moving around her kitchen, and the sight of her makes something inside me ache.

She’s beautiful.

Her hair is loose, curling around her shoulders, and she’s wearing one of those soft, flowy dresses that make her look like she belongs in a damn painting.She’s humming to herself, the sound faint but sweet, and my ears twitch, straining to catch every note.

I shouldn’t be here.

The thought hits me like a punch to the gut, but I can’t make myself leave.My bear presses closer to the edge of the trees, its instincts screaming at me to go to her.

Just one step closer.

I dig my claws into the dirt, forcing myself to stay put.I can’t.If she saw me like this, if she knew what I am…

The very thought makes my chest tighten, a sharp, painful squeeze that leaves me gasping.I’ve spent years keeping my distance, protecting people from the danger I carry inside me.But with Hannah, it’s different.

I don’t just want to protect her.I want to be near her.

And that’s what makes this so damn hard.

***

BythetimeImake it back to my cabin, the fire in the hearth has burned down to embers, the room dim and quiet.I shift back into my human form, the process slower this time, my body aching from the strain.

I collapse onto the couch, my head in my hands with my breath coming in ragged gasps.The cabin feels even smaller now, the walls pressing in on me like a cage.

You can’t keep running forever.

Earl’s voice echoes in my head, his gruff words cutting through the silence like a blade.He said those words to me years ago, back when I first moved out here, back when I thought isolation was the only way to keep people safe.

But I’m starting to think he was right.

Because no matter how far I run, I can’t outrun this.I can’t outrun her.

***

Thenextmorning,Iwake up with a pounding headache and a knot in my chest that refuses to go away.The sunlight streaming through the window feels too bright, too harsh, and I groan as I roll off the couch, my muscles protesting every movement.

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