Every thrust sends shockwaves through the bond. I feel what he feels—the slick heat of me wrapped around him, the desperate need to claim and be claimed, the wild satisfaction of finally, finally being joined. His pleasure mingles with mine until I can't separate where I end and he begins.
"Maren." My name is a prayer and a possession on his lips. He drives deeper, harder, and I meet him stroke for stroke. The bear rises inside me with each movement, her instincts bleeding through. Mine. Ours. Mate.
His mouth finds the curve where my neck meets my shoulder, teeth scraping the sensitive skin. Not breaking it—not yet—but the threat and promise of that bite sends liquid fire straight to my core. I clench around him, and his groan vibrates against my throat.
"That's it," he rasps. "Feel me. Feel us."
I do. God, I do. Every inch of him moving inside me, every ragged breath against my skin, every pulse of the mate bond syncing our heartbeats. The transformation pain weaves through the pleasure, indistinguishable now. My cells restructuring with each thrust, the bear's DNA claiming mine in rhythm with Jonah claiming my body.
His hand slides between us, finding the swollen bundle of nerves where we're joined. The touch sends electricity through me, and I cry out, hips bucking against him. He circles, presses, and I'm flying apart, shattering into fragments of light and sensation and overwhelming need.
The orgasm tears through me—through both of us. The bond blazes white-hot as Jonah follows, his release triggering another wave in me. I feel his pleasure crash through the connection, amplifying my own until I'm drowning in sensation. His teeth finally sink into that perfect spot on my shoulder, not hardenough to break skin but claiming nonetheless, and the bear roars her approval deep in my chest.
The pain and pleasure blend until I can't tell them apart. We move together, and the ley line energy flows through us, amplifying everything. My body is changing, but he's here, anchoring me, showing me I'm not alone in this.
Another convulsion wracks through me, but this time it's different. This time it crests with him, both of us crying out, the mate bond blazing so bright it's almost visible in the dim cabin. This is something new to me. More like growing pains amplified a thousand times, every part of me stretching and changing simultaneously.
"The bear," I gasp. "She's so—big?—"
"She's you," Jonah says firmly. "Part of you. Don't fight her. Let her in."
Easy for him to say. He was born to this. But I'm trying to make room in my body and mind for something I've never been, and it feels impossible.
Except it's not impossible, because it's happening. Right now. Whether I'm ready or not.
The pain crescendos, and I lose track of time. Minutes blur into hours. Jonah stays with me through all of it, holding me when the convulsions hit, talking me through the worst moments, pouring water down my throat when I can swallow.
Through the bond, I feel his steady presence. His absolute faith that I'll survive this. And slowly, so slowly, I start to believe him.
The bear settles deeper into my consciousness. Not foreign anymore. Familiar, like remembering something I'd forgotten. She's strong and fierce and protective, and she loves Jonah with the same intensity I do.
We're the same. We've always been the same. I just didn't know it yet.
The next wave of pain is different. Not spreading outward, but consolidating. Pieces clicking into place. My DNA finding its new pattern.
"Almost there," Jonah murmurs. "You're doing so well, love. Almost there."
The final convulsion hits like lightning. Every muscle locks, and for a moment I can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything except exist in the space between what I was and what I'm becoming. Then something inside me settles. Clicks. Locks into place.
The pain recedes like a retreating tide, leaving me gasping and shaking but whole. Changed, but whole.
I open my eyes. The room is sharper than it was before. Colors more vivid. I can hear Jonah's heartbeat, steady and strong. Can smell the forest outside, pine and earth and morning dew. Can feel the ley lines humming through the ground beneath the cabin.
"Maren?" Jonah's voice is tentative, hopeful.
I turn my head to look at him. His face is drawn with exhaustion and worry, but when our eyes meet, relief floods the mate bond so strongly it makes my breath catch.
"I'm okay," I whisper. My voice sounds different. Rougher.
"You're more than okay." He touches my face gently, reverently. "You're beautiful. You're amazing. You're?—"
"A bear shifter," I finish.
He laughs, the sound breaking with emotion. "Yeah. You're a bear shifter now."
I try to sit up. My body feels strange, new, but it responds when I tell it to. Stronger than before. Everything is stronger.
"Can I shift?" I ask.
