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“You wanted to ride the tram?” he asked instead.
“Yes! I think it will be fun to look down on Juneau. I hear the view is breathtaking.”
They left the room, and Shiya noted, instead of Birk’s SUV, they rode in a Bronco. The massive tires with deep tread screamed Kotori. She had to climb to get into the passenger seat, and he shut the door behind her. When he sat behind the wheel, he turned over the engine and shifted gears.
“I noticed both of you have stick shifts. Is that just boys and their toys, or what?”
Kotori drove to the street, threw on his turn signal, and turned right. “No, most vehicles here in Juneau are stick shift. Most are four-wheel drive because of the weather in winter. You don’t want to get into trouble trying to drive on snow and ice with anything less.”
“That makes sense.” Shiya hesitated and then reached across to put her hand on his thigh. The hard muscles contracted beneath her touch, and she chewed her bottom lip. She watched in awe as the front of his pants tented. He must be massive under there, and she couldn’t wait to have him stretching her walls and plowing as deep as he could go. She would wait for Birk to be with them, though. If this fantasy happened, she’d have it all.
They arrived at the tram station and found parking. Kotori paid the admission fee, which included all-day unlimited rides. Looking up at the top, she wondered if she’d even want to ride again after one time. Her stomach stirred with butterflies, and Kotori took her hand.
“Don’t worry. It’s only seventeen hundred feet up.”
“That is so not funny.” She rolled her eyes at him, but he smiled and leaned down to kiss her.
They waited their turn to get on the tram along with a large group of other people. Shiya found a spot at the back to look out the window, and Kotori stood behind her. He towered so high above her head, he would have no trouble seeing, and she grabbed his hand to put on her waist. He gave her a light squeeze as the tram began to climb Roberts Mountain.
Over an intercom, a woman shared interesting facts about the wildlife, the city, and the tram. Shiya half listened while focusing on how close the tops of trees appeared. When they were high enough, she marveled over the city, clinging to the shoreline as if the mountains crowded it out. The sight took her breath away.
“Across the bridge, is that still Juneau?” she asked Kotori.
“This side of the Gastineau Channel is Juneau, which includes the downtown area. On that side is West Juneau.” He moved his finger left of the bridge. “Down that way is Douglas Island.”
When the ride ended, they wandered along the trails, enjoying the tropical forest–type vegetation. When Shiya spotted bears some distance from where they stood, she grabbed Kotori’s hand and froze.
“Bears! I didn’t realize there are bears here.”
Kotori hugged her. “It’s okay. They have platforms where you can view them closer in a safe location, but don’t worry, I will protect you. Sometimes they come down to the city. They smell the garbage. Everyone is supposed to have bear-safe lids, but things happen.” He shrugged.
From his casual stance, she figured this was a standard way of life for him, and it was no big deal. She’d never seen anything bigger than a raccoon or a possum that wasn’t closed off in a zoo.
“Do you not like bears?”
Her answer to his question appeared to be important to him, and she turned away. She’d forgotten for an instant what she believed him to be—a polar bear shifter. The bears she spotted were black.
“I like bears just fine,” she said. They continued walking. “Kotori?”
“Yes?”
“You’re Native American, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“What tribe?”
“Tlingit.”
Her blank stare brought a smile to his handsome face that made her forget everything but him. He traced a finger over her nose, staring into her eyes. Between them, she felt his hard-on pressed into her stomach, and she wondered if it was perpetual, or did she just turn him on all the time? The latter pleased her to think.
“I bet you thought I would say something like Cherokee?” His eyes flashed amusement.
“Please, I’m not that ignorant,” she asserted and spun away. “Tell me about your people.”
He didn’t hesitate, which made her think he shared what was common knowledge, stuff to be found on the Internet. He would not, for example, tell her what percentage of them were shifters, and what kind of animals. For a minute, she wished they were close enough for that level of honesty, having nothing to do with her family or his.
“We call ourselves Lingit, which means ‘people of the tides.’”
