“What day is it?”
“Hell if I—” She cut off her words then thumbed on her phone. “The twenty-second.” And when he didn’t respond, she added, “Of May.”
“Damn.” The last time he’d been human it had been mid-July.
“What? Is something else wrong?”
No way to answer that. There were a thousand things wrong. He’d been a bear for ten months. He wasn’t sure he remembered how to be human. And yet even as those thoughts rolled through his mind, he managed to push himself upright until he sat facing her. He didn’t concentrate on the movement. He’d learned young to just let his body work as it willed. The more he thought about it, the more awkward he got. And besides, his brain was busy parsing other things.
Like who she was and what was she doing up here. His cabin was in the middle of nowhere in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. She sure as hell wasn’t a local. To begin with, there weren’t that many African Americans up here. But she had found him, sure enough. And that dirty Chevy Malibu in his driveway said she’d driven a long way to get here, even though it did have Michigan plates.
“Your name,” he said.
“Can’t remember? I’m hurt.” She didn’t smell hurt. She smelled like cheap floral perfume over something sweet and nutty.
“Do you know who I am?”
“Corporal Simon Gold of the Corps of Engineers. Discharged about a year ago.”
That was awful specific for someone he couldn’t quite remember. But he knew how to do this. He could look at the individual pieces of her body and connect them with a memory. He could, though it took so much focus. In the end, it was her stubborn chin that triggered his memory, though in his mind’s eye it was always paired with a mischievous tilt to the head. Her brother—his closest friend—had always been searching for fun.
“You’re Vic’s little sister.” What was her name? “Alyssa.”
Though he and Victor had been nearly inseparable for the last few years, they’d never been stateside together. Not until last year…er, two years ago, when he’d spent a wonderful couple weeks seeing the bars of Detroit while Alyssa had alternately harassed or hung out with them. He remembered her being skinny, sassy, and a ton more fun than his tight-jawed, muscular woman before him. And back then, he was pretty sure she’d never touched a gun much less been able to stand her ground and put five rounds into a roaring grizzly bear. “You’ve grown up.”
“You were a bear, so I’m pretty sure you’re the winner in surprising changes.”
He looked at her calmly, analyzing her features and stance. Her eyes were steady as they met his gaze, but her hands were twitchy and her nostrils kept flaring as her breath came in and out in a short, tight tempo. Not quite panicked, but certainly not comfortable. Since she’d picked up her gun again, he’d do well to keep her heading toward calm, not terrified.
So he shrugged and was pleased when the motion didn’t hurt too badly. “I can explain.”
“Really? Have at it soldier. Give me the details.”
He frowned. “Um, what details did you want?”
“You an army experiment?”
“No.”
“Bit by a radioactive spider or something?”
“That’s a comic book.”
She arched a brow and he huffed out a breath. “I was born this way.”
“As a bear?”
“Human. All human normal. My first shift was at sixteen.”
She crinkled her nose. “You make it sound like a shift at a donut shop. You mean you turned into a bear?” It was half statement, half question, so he answered it.
“Yes. Ripped my favorite jeans. Hurt like hell. Wandered until I was in Gladwin.”
She frowned. “Where?”
“Middle Michigan. State park. Here.” He held up his hand in the shape of Michigan and pointed an inch below the base of his index finger.
“So it’s a genetic thing? Your parents can do it, your—”
