Page 1 of Bearly Yours
Chapter 1
Emrie
It was his smile that made me want to choke him. It was more sneer than smile, and it broadcasted to the whole restaurant his disdain and embarrassment being seen with me. I didn’t understand it. Why agree to be my date if he had hostile feelings toward me?Why get my number from my Clan?
Was it the way I looked?
No, more likely it was the type of paranormal I was.
Lyonel was a mage—fairly uncommon because of the raw power of their magic, but otherwise normal—and I was a bear shifter.
And being a bear shifter was sometimes fodder for disdain among the paranormal community. Bear shifters were mostly males—it was just how nature worked for us—female bear shifters were rarer than a sunny day in Antarctica. But wherever we bear shifters went in the community, we always got some yahoos who looked down on us. Like we were the country bumpkins in a society of elite, powerful, charismatic paranormals.
For one, we were large, tending toward oversized. We didn’t do dainty. We needed large chairs, large cars, large homes, and large clothes. And even though bear shifters in human formwere not clumsy at all—sometimes they were even graceful, like my Clanmate Mateo, there were stereotypes about my kind that other paranormals bought into with alarming frequency. We were accused of being dumb, clumsy, socially unaware beings. And whatever thosetypes of paranormals felt toward bear shifters went triple for the rare bear shifter females.
Those like myself.
It was days like today that I almost hated what I was.
I gripped my fork, debating throwing it like a javelin at my date’s forehead, and trying really hard not to believe the stereotype that mages were massive—
“Is there a problem with the food?” came a deep, smoky voice from behind me. At the sound of his voice, every single cell in my body relaxed. My death-grip on my fork loosened, my shoulders unknotted and lowered, and every other bunched muscle in my body suddenly released its tension and I breathed out a silent sigh of relief.
Then, when I registered thetoneof my best friend’s voice, I winced. I slowly tilted my head back to find him standing just behind me, looming over me. His was a face I knew and loved.
He stood with his arms folded across his massive chest, scowling like someone was very soon going to get a beat-down.
Roarke.
My bestie.
Also, one of the last dragon shifters in the world.
Normally he was grumpy and growly—being a dragon shifter probably exacerbated this problem—but today he actually looked like he was considering eating one of his customers. I wanted to tell him not to chance it. Lyonel would probably give him heartburn, what with all the acid he’d been spewing under his breath. Naturally pale and thin, with what I was calling a villainesque goatee and mustache in an indeterminate color somewhere between blonde and brown, Lyonel glanced up at theinterruption and went, if possible, even more ashen-white than normal. He looked like he was three seconds away from expiring from terror.
I almost cackled in glee, but managed to restrain my impulses.
I mean, had he forgotten whose restaurant he’d taken me to?
Really?
It dawned on me that we might be creating a scene, so I slowly craned my head around the dining room, checking the other tables. Shy and anxious by nature, I had no desire for people to be a witness to tonight’s stupidity. When I couldn’t spy anyone staring at us, and all seemed well, I went boneless again in relief.
I was sure it had more to do with people being afraid of the two-hundred-and-fifty-pound dragon shifter behind me, rather than no one noticing what was happening at our table. I didn’t care, as long as people weren’t staring.
Cor Meum,orMeumto the locals, was a black-tie Italian restaurant in Moonhaven Cove. In fact,MeumandThat’s Amoréwere the only luxury Italian restaurants in town. AndMeumdid the whole luxury thing well: white tablecloths, fine china, candlelight, sparkling chandeliers, soft, sultry music playing in the background... I was convinced that the smells coming from the kitchen would make even the poshest clients drool. I could verify this, as my Clan brothers and I could smell better than most, and we were by no means posh.
I focused back on my date for the evening. As I’d been woolgathering, Roarke had started to smell like cinders and brimstone behind me, trailing little wisps of smoke. In my experience, that was never a good thing.
I placed my snowy-white linen napkin back on my uneaten plate of delicious-smelling spinach and parmesan ravioli, scooped up the little black purse that I’d chosen to go with mycute-but-classy little black dress, laid down a hundred dollar bill for my water and the forty-dollar ravioli that I hadn’t gotten to eat yet, and stood up as gracefully as I could in heels my feet were unfamiliar with.
“In the future, Mr. Lyonel,” I said, quietly but with dignity, “please don’t speak that way to me again. Bears have excellent hearing, even when someone is speaking under their breath. Perhaps when you saw me through the window, the kindest thing would have been to just leave rather than inflicting your acidic and demeaning company on someone who’s done nothing deserving of your acerbic personality. I’ll be leaving now. Have a nice evening.”
I almost hated myself for that last comment, but I was, by nature, polite. It wasn’t in my nature to be nasty or cause a scene, even though it was probably deserved. That didn’t mean I was a pushover, however. Icouldstand up for myself. I just didn’t like confrontations. They gave me hives and made me want to go hide in my house for weeks at a time.
Shaking, I left the restaurant. Before the door swished closed, I could hear Roarke’s deep voice growl,“Whatdid you say to her!?”The whole restaurant went instantly quiet, and I was insanely happy that I’d gotten out of there just in time. I hurriedly skirted around the crowded tables on the patio, which was lit with romantic fairy-lights and ran to the ornamental garden around the back.
Well, when he heard what Lyonel had said, Roarke wouldn’t be any happier with the man. I’d almost gasped aloud at the things the mage had been saying under his breath. I’d actually turned beet red in a combination of anger, mortification, and hurt which had probably alerted someone on Roarke’s staff that all was not well in Emrie date-land. Which had then prompted Roarke to come out and intervene and possibly break my date into itty bitty pieces.
