He stalked closer. No other word for it. He approached her slightly from the side, then he adjusted to face her. She felt his breath on her face, smelled the scent of blood, but also, weirdly, Irish Spring. How that smell could cling to him here, she had no idea, but she caught the sweet smell or pretended she did. And finally, ultimately, she changed her focus from his ear to his eyes.
And then he widened his mouth a little farther.
She would have run then, but there was nowhere to go. This close, he was way faster than her. And besides, she didn’t know if her legs would bend or just collapse. So she stood still while his wet pink tongue stretched out and caressed her arm.
A wet lick with a long tongue. Like a dog’s kiss, she supposed, though she thought of it more as a grizzly caress.
She reached out her other hand. She wasn’t going to pet him on the blood-soaked fur, but his ear was still clear as was a patch of fur behind it. So she scratched him there. She sunk her fingers into the soft fur and scratched.
He released a chuff that she took as a grizzly moan of delight. Then a moment later she drew back.
He quirked his head then pushed his ear forward. He didn’t like that she’d pulled away, but in this she remained firm until he was butting his nose against her belly.
“As a man, Simon.”
Then it happened. A brief shimmer in the air. A sudden sharp blast of heat. And then when she blinked again, he was changing right before her eyes. His body pulled together, the fur dropped away or disappeared. Suddenly there was a naked man on all fours in front of her and he was miraculously clean. The blood must have fallen away with the fur, though his nose showed traces as did his hands.
She dropped to her knees before him, the breath leaving her lungs in a whoosh. This was Simon before her, trembling and naked. She wrapped him in her arms as his breath came in short tight pants.
“I got you,” she said over and over. “I got you.” And she kept saying it until the shaking eased. And then a moment later, he took a deep, slow breath. “Simon—” she began but he cut her off.
“Stay down. Stay quiet,” he said, his words harsh.
Her head jerked back at his rough tone, but she didn’t argue. And she didn’t fight him when he grabbed her gun from the floor where she’d dropped it. His fingers fumbled with it for a moment, but eventually steadied. Then she waited in taut silence as he stood and faced all those grizzlies who were now rolling back to their feet.
CHAPTER 13
Simon’s mind was a dark place of violence and possession. He owned these creatures now. He could do whatever he wanted to with them beginning with the woman. As soon as he could, he was going to mount her and impregnate her because she was beautiful and she was his. But first he had to make sure every lesser creature here gave him due reverence.
And that meant someone else had to die. It was just a question of who.
He looked at them as they came to their feet. A couple brown bear-shifters, the rest grizzlies. Some impressive in size, others just big. He glared at them all, then bellowed his first order.
“Human. Now.”
He waited, watching to see who obeyed quickly, who struggled to change, and who he would kill first. He didn’t need another dominance show. He was standing next to Nanook’s carcass. But it never hurt to drive a point home.
None hesitated before the shift. One by one they turned from dark glorious fur to naked flesh of unimpressive bodies. None here matched his physique and none would dare look askance at him. If they tried, he would kill them, plain and simple. He also scanned the discarded clothes, noting that nearly every pile had a gun. If any man turned to dress, he would be the next to die.
Simon waited and watched, his mind and body unified in speed and intelligence. Splitting his mind into bear and human was stupid. It made it agonizingly difficult to switch between bodies and he constantly risked being trapped in one form or another.
Not now. Not when he was one being with one goal: dominate all he saw.
An old Hispanic man was the last to shift. Probably one of the weakest here. Perfect as the first cull. Simon could kill him as an example. Or maybe he should target the biggest one.
He walked over to a huge black man with broad shoulders and meaty fists. A scar cut across his jaw, stark and impressive given that he retained the mark even after shifting. That meant whatever had caused the wound had cut into the man’s psyche as well. He had a hard jaw and narrowed eyes, and though his head was tilted in submission, he held it at the bare minimum angle.
“Who is your alpha?” he asked the man, his tone flat.
“You are,” the man snapped in near military precision. But he’d been the only one to answer, and that was unacceptable.
He glared around the room and repeated the question.
“Who is your alpha?”
“You are!” every man rushed to answer.
“Whom do you obey?”
