Bear Meets Bride: A Paranormal Bear Shifter Romance (2 page)

That fit
. The clans tried to intermarry as much as possible to keep the blood fresh. It also helped to maintain political ties and family names, and kept the power struggles between the clans balanced.

“Great, so I’m supposed to marry a girl I’ve never even met.”

“This is the way of things,” Chris said, raising his flat palms again sagely, as if there was nothing more to do about it.
I wish I saw the world as simply as you do, old friend
, Dylan wanted to say. “Besides, you forget, the same thing happened with me and Suzy… and, you know…”

“You two were amazing,” Dylan said, finishing the sentence, not just for Chris’ benefit. He didn’t want to bring up Suzy again twice in the same day if it was at all possible. “Okay, fine… so… when is she supposed to get here? Are they flying her in?”

Chris merely nodded. “I’ll give you one day to decide. Then, I’ll call it in with the satellite phone.”

They were isolated enough on the small island that it was impossible to try and swim back to the mainland. During some of the summer months, the two of them had made bets to see how far the other could swim out in the strait before they were forced back to the island either by the waves, or the peril of exhaustion. The only way on and off the island was by boat or float plane, and neither was available to them, not until the training was complete.

The catch was, it wasn’t up to him to determine when his training was finished. That was under the sole purview of the patron. And, Chris was admittedly tight-lipped about it, to the point that Dylan had given up in the first week of pestering him with questions. For now, he wanted to enjoy the island as it was, for as long as it would last.

Still, he wondered what the culmination of his training was supposed to look like: a final test, perhaps? Or was it simply a gut feeling on behalf of the patron?

“You should be happy!” Chris boomed. “Think of it as an opportunity.”

“Opportunity to do what?” Dylan scratched his head. “Ugh, I hate traditions.”

“Can’t be helped,” Chris shrugged again, and then his face went grave, “but you’d better be polite. Think of her position… she’s being dropped off on an island with two men
she’s
never seen before. That would make any young lady nervous. So be nice or I’ll give a personal thrashing myself.”

Dylan couldn’t tell if the threat was genuine or not. “Of course, I’ll be nice,” Dylan said. He hadn’t thought about how she might feel. “I’m not a complete ass. I just… I just wish I knew more about her. Or that I’d been prepared better.”

“What do you think you’ve been doing on this island?”

Not preparing to meet my mate,
he wanted to snap back, but held his tongue. Chris slapped his knees and stood up, indicating that he was heading back into the cabin. He knew Dylan would also want the time to be alone and consider his choices. He sat down on the bench Chris had been relaxing on and flipped through the pages again. They were all, without a doubt, beautiful, and as he read them over, he realized they really had all been carefully selected.
How am I supposed to make a decision,
he wanted to shout.

It was impossible. One sheet of paper and a picture to determine who’d he wanted to share his life with. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled and he felt a headache coming on.
Okay, try to focus
. He flipped through them again, and after an hour, he’d narrowed them down to three. The moon had already come out and he realized how long he’d spent looking through the pictures. By now, he could recall each face and each name.

But when he flipped to the very back of the book, there was one that caught his eye, Sarah Walker. It was as if her profile had been added last minute, tacked on like an afterthought. She had a small face, round with a chin that dropped into an exaggerated point that made her look almost elfin in the Polaroid. A lot of freckles scattered around her nose, and dark brown eyes that seemed to stare out through the picture. It was the eyes, he realized now, that had caused him to stop and consider her in the first place. All the other pictures, for the most part, had smiling poses, and he could tell it was a fake smile, something they had put on for his benefit.

But Sarah’s picture was different. She wasn’t smiling so much as letting a sly grin pierce the edge of her lips. Dylan couldn’t tell what emotion was behind it, and it intrigued him.
Was she giving a coy smirk or was she leveling a disparaging grin at the person taking the picture
? He could picture the cameraman trying to coach her, “Smile, smile! C’mon, pretend you’ve heard a funny joke! Be beautiful!” He could just as easily imagine Sarah narrowing a cold glance. He liked that she stood out, and he found himself reviewing her profile for the umpteenth time.

She was from a similar caste as him and enjoyed many of the same activities: hunting, hiking, reading, camping. All the outdoor sort of stuff that had come to define his time on the island, he realized. He let out a low chuckle and leaned his head back against the bench and watched the moon rise over the treetops. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, and in no time, had fallen asleep with Sarah’s picture open on his lap.

***

“So! Made your choice yet!?” he was awoken rudely by the grumbling baritone of Chris, who slapped him hard on the shoulder.

Dylan staggered awake, breathing hard like he’d just left a nightmare behind, his eyes scanned around vigorously. His shoulder still hurt where Chris had laid his palm on him. The older man was a giant in every sense of the word, including underestimating his own strength at every turn.

“Erm… yeah, I guess,” he said. Sarah’s portrait looked up at him from his lap, her face still frozen in that enigmatic Mona Lisa expression. “I think… I think her.”

Chris took a moment to peruse the picture and profile, rubbing his chin with his thumb. “Not bad. Mind if I ask you what the deciding factor was?”

“I do mind,” Dylan answered back, “but if this is the way it has to be… I want it to be her.”

That was good enough for Chris and he tramped back into the cabin. Dylan heard him checking the battery on the satellite phone, it seemed to work only intermittently, which only increased the feeling of isolation. Dylan stood up and stretched. It was another sunny day, but autumn was fast approaching and he could feel a slight tang in the wind, the first signal of winter, pushing south.

“Well, she’ll be here the day after tomorrow,” Chris announced. He still had on his sleeveless red shirt from the day before. “In the meantime, I think you promised me some salmon. Good a breakfast as any, eh?”

Dylan rubbed his head and appreciated Chris’ attempt to lessen his anxiety about meeting Sarah. A number of fears quickly ran through his mind: was she anything like her profile described; what if she didn’t like him at all; how was he even supposed to act around her? There was something unnatural about this way of meeting someone. It seemed too planned, too regimented, not organic at all.
No doubt she has an equally detailed profile about me,
he realized, and that only caused a fresh surge of fear to swell in him as he wondered what sorts of illicit or embarrassing details were included.

He shook his head and tried to keep up with Chris as the big man took off at a sprint, which for Dylan, was close enough to full-on running.
Guess all I can do is wait and see,
he said, submitting to the turn of events. That was part of his training as well, he figured. Learning to accept certain things that would always be beyond his control.

CHAPTER TWO

Sarah gripped the strap on her backpack nestled between her legs and glanced uneasily out of the plane window. The engines droned tirelessly as she readjusted the navy green bandana across her forehead. Her silky black hair, piled behind her like an ebon turret, caught a glint of sunshine as the pilot banked hard, preparing to land. Below, she could make out the island: it was oblong, with a varied topography seeming to account for most of it. She could see a central knoll or hill in the center, as well as a number of beaches and several tributaries that ran into the blue ocean.

Home away from home
, she thought sardonically. In the top of her backpack, she still had Dylan Clover’s profile. She took one last look at his close-lipped smile and the shrugging handsome arc of his eyes, as if he were bemused by something. She puffed out her cheeks, noticing that her leg was twitching, one of her many nervous tics. She consciously planted the heel of her hiking boot to stop it. Her legs felt stiff from the long train ride, and then the early morning flight. Even though she considered herself quite fit, she felt her hamstrings cramping up. The tight black tank-top stretched across her small breasts as she rubbed her flat stomach to try and settle the butterflies and the mixture of nausea she always got when flying.

“Coming in,” the pilot said, “best hold on.”

“How long am I going to be here?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“As long as the training takes. Usually, it’s only a month or so. Dylan’s been on the island for six already though,” the pilot said and flashed a smile. “Don’t worry. Time flies, believe me.”

She gave him another tight-lipped smile in response, only half believing him. In reality, she resented the idea of being dragged from her own clan and forced onto an island with a man she had never met.
An outdated tradition
, she thought to herself. Sure, Dylan looked fine on paper but she couldn’t escape the fact that she was being forced to marry someone without even having ever shook his hand. A knot of fear wrapped itself like a snake-pit in her stomach as the plane descended, its pontoons touching down on the waves.

Dylan and another man, Chris, she remembered, were already waiting on the makeshift quay as the plane burbled closer. She walked out on the wing and leapt towards the rocky shore in one bound, her boots crunching under the pebbles and looked up at the two men. Both of them seemed a bit taken aback by her antics.
Not lady-like enough
, she thought.

“Er,” the bigger man fumbled for his words, “Welcome to the Island! I’m Chris, I’m Dylan’s patron for his training here. And this, of course, is Dylan.”

The younger man took a step forward. He had on a blue T-shirt and green pants that looked as if they’d been mended more than a few times. He had on a goofy grin but he looked very much like his picture. Handsome sheets of black hair loomed over his broad forehead, and his eyes were suddenly emerald in the reflection of sun off the lapping waves. He tried to smile, but like his picture, it was close-lipped.
Probably as nervous as I am
, she thought, and decided she wouldn’t stand on ceremony.

She extended her hand and grinned back, and felt giddy with the sensation of taking control. Even Dylan seemed a bit unnerved.
Good
, she thought mischievously. “I’m Sarah. I think you’ve been expecting me,” she said. Behind her, the float plane was already turning around, getting ready to head back to civilization.

Chris grinned at the awkward tension and almost started to laugh through his thick cheeks. He clapped his hands together, and Sarah was surprised at how strong he was. His thick arms seemed to buckle like tree roots as he offered to take her backpack. She gave him a quick look. He was bigger than Dylan, and looked more mature, too. It was obvious he had already gone through his initiation and training by the way he was enjoying himself.

“I can carry it,” she said. “I pack light.”

“Told you she was a catch!” Chris said conspicuously and elbowed Dylan, who bit down and flushed red. Sarah had to grin at that, at least she and Chris had that
much in common, making Dylan uncomfortable.

As they made their way back to the cabin, Chris took point and started to whistle to himself, almost as if he’d forgotten the other two were following. Sarah breathed in the fresh air, enjoying the deep scents of the forest.
There were worse places to get stuck
, she figured. Then she caught Dylan looking at her.

“Awkward, isn’t it?” she said matter-of-factly.

He scratched his head shyly. “Something like that. Kind of puts me in a weird position, y’know?”

“How so?”

“Well,” he tried to find the right words, “I’m the one that chose you. Not the other way around. I know how I’d feel in your position. Heh. I’d probably hate it.”

She nodded. At least he was intuitive enough to realize the absurdity of the old traditions. She found herself relaxing a bit after this revelation. This whole time she had built up Dylan in her mind, assuming he was just as complicit in their arranged marriage as the elders were.
I’m being selfish
, she realized.

“Don’t worry about it,” she grinned, and readjusted the straps on her backpack. “I’m a bit prickly, at first. Everyone tells me that. It makes it hard for people to get to know me; I know that. Don’t take it personally, ‘k?”

“I’m not usually so clumsy,” he said in kind, trying to make a joke.

She narrowed her eyes at him, joining in. “I’ll try to remember that,” she smirked, “So, since we both probably know everything official about the other…”

“You grew up on the Silverback Farm,” he said, “and like Jane Austen.”

“And you hate scary movies and studied anthropology,” she fired back; they both laughed. In front of them, Chris gave a quick flitting glance over his shoulder and continued to whistle. “Well, how about unofficially?”

Dylan scratched his head again, trying to think of something that wouldn’t have been included in his profile. Sarah walked beside him, raising her eyes to him expectedly. He was surprised at how full of life she was. It was hard to describe a person’s personality in a few pieces of writing but he was pleasantly surprised by her openness. There was something decisive about her, a sharp edge that he found attractive.
Not coy or demure at all
.

More than that, she seemed to live up to his expectations. There was nothing soft or pampered about her, which was a quality he had come to expect (and dread) in the females that belonged to his caste. She was neither prim nor polished and there were no masks to her, as far as he could tell. What you saw was what there was, and it was refreshing. She was even more sure-footed over the uneven terrain of the island than he seemed to be.

“Well, I’m going out on a limb here,” he said and lowered his voice, and she craned her head toward him in kind, “and you must never tell anyone. Especially Chris… but I write a lot of poetry. I’m quite prolific, actually.”

Sarah let out the beginning of a boisterous laugh and quickly covered her mouth with both hands and gave him a tremulous look. Up ahead, Chris’ head half-turned toward them, but then went back to leading the trail.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

He gave her a look. “You can make up for that by telling me something about yourself, then. Also, unofficial,” he said, giving her the ultimatum with a good-natured tone.

“Okay,” she said, “but let me think. I feel like it should be something good… I owe you that much. Ask me again, sometime, ‘k?”

He nodded and chuckled.
Alright, I’ll bite.

After giving her a tour of the nearby area: the waterfall that fed the small creek by the cabin, the cabin itself, the little garden that Chris and Dylan had tried to plant with little success, it was already time for dinner.

Time flies
, Sarah thought to herself, remembering the pilot’s sage advice. She hadn’t liked the idea of coming to the island in the first place but she was surprised at how quickly her opinion had changed.
Misery loves company
, she felt like reiterating. All three of them were stuck here together, and that, more than anything else, seemed to tie them all together.

Chris was an amazing cook and she was delighted in the strange cuisine he had prepared for them. She had expected dry rations, the sort that were occasionally dropped off by the float plane every month or so. But instead, the burly patron had a selection of fresh grilled salmon with a garlic sauce of his own invention, combined with a stew that had a variety of fresh herbs and vegetables he had stocked up on or foraged off the island itself, like sorrel, salal and several pungent but hearty kinds of mushroom.

“Delicious!” she exclaimed, ladling some to her large lips.

“Well, thank you. I’m glad someone appreciates it,” Chris said.

“What are you talking about? I always compliment you on your cooking skills,” Dylan admonished. “As for me, I’d burn water if left to my own devices. Add that as another unofficial
detail.”

Both Sarah and Chris laughed. “Well, I’m sure your mate feels lucky to have you,” Sarah blurted, and took a bite off the grilled salmon. She didn’t seem to notice the stillness that had filled the room until she looked up and saw Dylan staring down at his food with that scrunched up look on his face again. Chris merely smiled thinly, and picked up their empty soup bowls.

“I’ll go start washing,” he offered hurriedly. Sarah stood up but he quickly said with a firmness in his voice, “No, no, don’t worry… you’re our guest, you stay.”

She waited until he’d gathered the dishes and headed down to the creek before speaking. “What was that about?” she hissed at Dylan.

“… I should have warned you, I’m sorry. My fault. But that’s kind of a sore topic for Chris. Suzy… er, his mate. She uh… she died,” he said softly.

“Oh, geezus.”

“There was no way you could’ve known,” Dylan shook his head.

“Still,” a pained look spread on her face. “Aw, shit. Great impression, huh?”

He gave her a weak smile. “Don’t let it get to you. He’ll be fine. And now you know.”

“This must be awful for him,” she said, and saw Dylan raise an eyebrow. “I mean, you’re finishing your training. And that means…” she blushed, “well, you know. Finding a mate. And… anyway, I was just thinking, must be hard for him. Kind of like living it all over again.”

Dylan hadn’t thought about that. He frowned, suddenly feeling ashamed. He hadn’t even hesitated about asking Chris to be his patron and to join him on the island. And of course, Chris had said yes, how could he say no.
I’m such an idiot
, Dylan realized. Suddenly felt a bit sick to his stomach. He pushed the remains of his grilled salmon away and both he and Sarah fidgeted in their silence.

“Speaking of training,” he offered after a spell, trying to break the tension, “what uh… what sort of training did you get? All this initiation stuff, I feel like they keep it under wraps on purpose.”

She gave him a look, like she knew what he was trying to do: lighten the mood. But she seemed thankful for it, even if it was only her dark brown eyes that were doing the thanking. She leaned back in the chair and raised her hands on top of her head, staring at the ceiling. Dylan saw how lithe she was, her pale arms muscled but still thin, and looked away quickly when she saw his eyes brush across the low V-neck of her tank-top.

“We-ell… let’s see, nothing like this. Mostly it’s just… stupid stuff. Learning history, customs. Ceremonial crap; kind of boring. You got the better end of the deal… just get to spend your time living on an island,” she moved her head, as if to indicate his environment. “I’m a bit jealous, actually.”

“It’s not for everyone,” he said. “It can get lonely. With just two people-”

“Three now,” she said quickly, her eyes flashing. Dylan caught something in her gaze and tried to hide his blush again.

“Right, three. I like the wilderness though… it’s easier to feel the bear. Something about being around trees, a natural habitat. I’m going to miss this place, when we all go back,” he said, his voice suddenly drifting into melancholy. “This place… I dunno how to explain it, sometimes you just shift without even thinking about it.”

“Show me,” Sarah said.

“What, you mean right now?” Dylan stood up. Something sparked behind his eyes. He knew that of course eventually they would both see each other in form – and naked – but it was another thing he hadn’t prepared for. Not really.

“Well, sure, why not? Give Chris some time, too,” she said, obviously still cursing herself for bringing up his dead mate. “Besides, I want to get out… get some air. Come with me?”

*

Dylan only stumbled once as they followed the old trail from the cabin that wound down between a cedar grove, working more from muscle memory than actual sight as he negotiated the brambles and high ferns. He’d taken off his shoes again and was going barefoot; Sarah had done the same, though she was more unaccustomed and would occasionally swear under her breath and giggle at something sharp that had prodded her soles.

Finally, they made it to one of the other beaches. It was one of the only sandy areas on the island, and folded inward like a protected bay. The moon was already hugging the horizon, and gave them enough light to see each other now that they were out of the forest. Sarah let out a
whoo
sound as she sped past Dylan and gazed out on the gentle lapping of the moon-soaked bay.