ALPHA’S PREY

Because they could’ve just as easily come up here and put me down.

They probably should have.

I lope through the snow, my bear chuffing with pleasure at the snow on my snout, the taste of it on my tongue, the crisp air cooling my furry ears.

The trip to the research cabin takes no time at all with my giant bear stride.

I circle it twice, getting a sense for the scents.

There’s animal-dog.

That’s good. I’m glad she’s not entirely alone.

And the female’s scent.

It’s a pleasant tickle in my nose. Like strawberries and vanilla ice cream, only not that sweet. I don’t expect to enjoy it so much. It’s a human scent, after all. Not my thing.

The dog starts to bark when I get closer to the cabin. Smart animal.

The alpha in me growls, like I want to put him in his place, but he’s doing his job. Protecting his human as he should.RêAd lat𝙚St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only

I amble toward the back of the cabin. I probably don’t need to stay any longer. I don’t detect any other scents here. But something pulls me closer. Some idle curiosity about the fearless female who thinks coming up here alone in a snowstorm with a killer on the loose is a good plan.

I stand on my hind legs and put my paws on the windowsill, peering in.

Fuck. Me.

The girl-scratch that, she’s all woman, even though she’s young-has built too big a fire. I know it’s too big because she’s stripped down to a soft pink tank top. A very small soft pink tank top. One that strains to contain her large, lush breasts. A pretty tattoo winds around her upper arm-green vines and a cobalt blue butterfly.

My bear growls.

She’s fucking beautiful. Human females aren’t my type-not at all. But if they were, I’d pick her kind. She looks like a Swiss milkmaid. A Viking princess. No, with that red hair, she’d be Irish farmstock. She’s sturdy. Big-boned, well-padded. Full-bodied with wide enough hips to carry a bear cub. Full strawberry lips. Smooth creamy white skin.

She’s healthy as fuck.

With brains to boot.

She will make some human asshole a very lucky man if she hasn’t already.

The dog, a furry black shepherd of some kind goes nuts when I growl, baring his teeth and snarling toward the window.

I should turn away, but I don’t. I haven’t looked my fill, yet.

I’m still staring when the hot scientist whirls and catches sight of me. Her eyes fly wide and she shrieks. More of a yelp, really. Almost a battle cry. She lunges for her dog as if he might be in imminent danger and grabs him by the collar.

“Bear, stay back.” She doesn’t take her eyes from me.

The command tickles something in me. An inner smile. How cute that she thinks she can command a bear.

But then she repeats, “Bear, no,” and I realize she’s talking to the dog.

Hilarious.

Miranda

OH HOLY MOTHER OF GOD.

The guy at the store was right. There is a crazy freaking bear up here.

Because I swear to God, it’s smiling at me right now. It must be nearly nine feet tall, with an intense, intelligent yellow gaze. Like it’s reading my thoughts.

My heart pounds, but logic takes over. The bear’s outside. Bear-my dog-and I are inside. As soon as I’m sure of it, maybe even before, my knees go weak at the sheer splendor of the animal.

I’ve never met a bear in person before. Sure, I’ve seen them behind the glass at the zoo, but this is totally different. I’m witnessing a bear in the wild.

“Ursus americanus. The American black bear,” I say in a mock deep voice like a narrator of a nature documentary-it’s one of my favorite games. A party trick I developed as an undergrad for laughs. “Named for its black fur, although the species’ coat can have variations of brown or blonde.” And this one is absolutely magnificent. He’s a black bear, but the size of a grizzly. Healthy-with a shiny thick coat of dark fur.

I continue lecturing my imaginary audience, “In the cold months, the bear’s metabolism slows to the point where the bear can enter a dormant state known as hibernation. The bear can conserve energy and weather the season when food is scarce.”

Why on Earth is he not still hibernating? We did have a brief warm spell; maybe it pulled him out of his cave early.

Poor bear. Tricked by nature.

God, I hope he can survive. What will he find to eat when the rivers are half frozen and nothing’s in bloom?

Well, I suppose that’s why he’s roaming around this cabin. Probably smells food.

Of course, I can’t feed him. That’s a terribly dangerous proposition, and it teaches bears to associate humans with food, which leads to bear attacks.

Maybe I can leave something out in the woods when I’m doing my research. But it will still smell like a human. And I recall that bears have an excellent sense of smell-300 times better than a dog or something crazy like that.

Too bad they can’t train a bear to hunt and seek. Maybe they’d find the women who have disappeared.

The bear tips his head to the side, eyes locked onto mine like he’s trying to read my mind. A tingle races across my skin. Now I see why the townspeople think the bear is crazy. There is something uncanny about it. It seems to have an almost human intelligence.

“Hey, big guy,” I murmur. “You’re beautiful.” Bear stops growling, following my lead. He sits but keeps his gaze pinned to the real bear in the window, ears cocked forward, haunches bunched and ready to spring into action.

The giant bear chuffs, fogging the glass.

I smile. I can’t help it. I feel so honored to catch sight of such a magnificent creature. As often happens in the face of raw nature, I’m filled with awe-overwhelmed with appreciation for the incredible beauty and largess of everything this Earth has to hold.