Page 7 of Honey for the Bear

I can’t keep doing this.

I grab the nearest thing—a heavy glass jar sitting on the counter—and hurl it across the room.It shatters against the wall, shards raining down onto the floor in a glittering arc.The sound is satisfying, but it doesn’t dull the ache in my chest or the fire burning beneath my skin.

I need to run.

***

Thewoodsstretchoutbefore me, dark and endless, and I take off at a sprint, the cool night air sharp against my skin.My boots pound against the soft earth, the trees blurring past me as I push myself faster and faster.

The shift comes suddenly, violently, ripping through me like a storm.One moment, I’m human; the next, my bear takes over, its massive paws thundering against the ground.

The world sharpens in an instant.My senses explode with clarity—the scent of pine and damp earth, the distant rustle of a rabbit darting through the underbrush, the faint hum of the bees near Hannah’s hives.

Her scent lingers on me, sweet and warm like honey, and it drives my bear into a frenzy.It wants to go to her, to touch her, to bury its face in her neck and breathe her in until nothing else exists.

I slam my massive paw against a tree trunk, the force of it splintering the wood.The sound echoes through the forest, but it doesn’t silence the growl rumbling deep in my chest.

She’s too close.

I can’t have her, but I can’t stay away, either.

My bear paces, its claws digging into the earth, restless and agitated.It doesn’t understand why we’re holding back, why we’re denying ourselves what we both want.But it doesn’t see the bigger picture.

It doesn’t see the danger.

If I lose control, if I let myself get too close, I could hurt her.I could ruin her.And that’s a risk I can’t take.

The moonlight filters through the trees, casting long shadows across the forest floor.I stop near the edge of the woods, the faint glow of Hannah’s farmhouse visible through the trees.The sight of it sends a pang through my chest, a painful ache that makes me want to roar.

She’s there, probably asleep, her soft breaths filling the quiet of her room.The thought of her, so close yet so far, makes my bear growl low and deep.

I shouldn’t be here.

I should turn around, run back to my cabin, and lock myself away until the ache fades.But my paws stay rooted to the ground, my eyes locked on the faint golden light spilling from her window.

I don’t know how long I stand there, watching her house like some kind of predator stalking its prey.Minutes?Hours?Time feels meaningless out here, with her scent in my nose and her image burning in my mind.

The wind shifts, carrying her scent to me, and it’s enough to break what little control I have left.

With a low growl, I turn and run, my bear tearing through the woods at full speed.The trees blur past me again, the cool air slicing through my fur, but it doesn’t dull the fire burning inside me.

I can’t keep running forever.

But for now, it’s all I can do.

***

WhenIfinallyreturnto my cabin, the familiar scent of wood and smoke greets me, grounding me just enough to shift back into my human form.The transition is rough.My muscles ache, and my skin feels too tight, like it doesn’t quite fit right anymore.

I collapse onto the floor, my breath coming in harsh gasps and my heart pounding like a drum.The room is dark, the moonlight filtering through the windows casting silver streaks across the wooden floor.

I sit there for a long time, staring at nothing, my thoughts a jumbled mess.

Hannah’s face flashes in my mind again—her smile, her laugh, the way she looked at me when she asked why I keep showing up for her.

Why do I?

The question lingers, heavy and unavoidable.I tell myself it’s because she needs help because I don’t want to see her struggle.But deep down, I know that’s not the whole truth.

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