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I can feel it in my head.
I cry out in delight as the orgasm overtakes me, and I move my hips wildly. I move like a wild animal. I buck my hips back and forth while I cry out in complete elation. I can hardly even breathe but I just cry out incoherently. This is the best orgasm of my life, just like every fucking orgasm this man gives me is the best.
But this has the entirety of the forest behind it, and I cum like I've never cum before.
I feel Russel's arms around me. I feel his body go tense and I feel his cock spasm as he cums. It only adds to the orgasm that I'm having. I cry out again and again.
Eventually, I just collapse on top of him and he holds me tightly to him, his strong arms around me and my face buried in the rain-wet crook of his neck and a downpour flowing down over us but neither of us makes any move to change our position.
Russel
I am a damned fool.
I am a damned fool because I did not send word back with the bear who came to me with the message.
I did not and I will not have time to warn them. The four bears lumber up and just as Melody backs up onto the porch, they shift. Where four large black bears were just a moment ago now stand four naked men.
“Damn it,” I say.
Melody looks at me, the shock on her face is pretty damned significant, and then at the naked me.
“Shift back,” I command. “She is human.” They should have known that. Whatever it is they need to discuss with their alpha is pressing enough that they don’t recognize her scent immediately. Perhaps they recognized it, but not distinctly enough to impact their urgency of purpose.
They shift back. Melody is flabbergasted, of course. “Behind the cabin there is a covered porch,” I say, “and I have clothes there. Go there, shift back, and wait for me in the cabin.” The three enormous black bears walk away.
“I would rather have spoken to you of this when it was appropriate and not have this thrust upon you.”
She looks at me and asks, his voice filled with wonder, “Are you… are you a druid?”
It’s actually a very insightful question. Druids, often depicted as enigmatic figures of ancient Celtic cultures, were believed to possess mystical powers that allowed them to communicate with gods and spirits, foretell the future, and harness the forces of nature. One of those powers was shapeshifting, and that’s why a number of shifter scholars believe the legends are based on real shifters.
“There is a good chance all of the mythology about druids descended from what I am,” I say, “but I have no particular wisdom, spiritual practice, or connection to nature beyond what my kind have.”
“Are you some kind of shaman?”
One of the most commonly associated powers of druids was their ability to heal, which was also attributed to shamans in about every culture. Their extensive knowledge of herbs and plants enabled them to concoct potions and remedies to cure ailments. Druids and shamans were also believed to possess a deep understanding of the power of stones, crystals, and plant life which they were able to use for divination and healing practices. In whatever culture, the shamans could diagnose diseases, prescribe the necessary treatment, and restore harmony to the body and mind.
Naturally, modern times romanticize druids and shamans. Modern people take the feel-good back to nature's healing aspects but ignore how many of the druids and shamans were involved in blood sacrifice, including human sacrifice. “I am not,” I say. I am exactly what you just saw. I am, like those men, a shifter.”
I realize all of a sudden that she isn’t afraid. I don’t know why. I don’t particularly care why. “Can you… can you turn into any animal?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Only a bear. There are tigers, lions, wolves, horses… I am a bear.”
Her lips part and she whispers, “and I… I have always loved bears… what does it mean?”
I smile and caress her cheek. “It means that we are meant to be together.”
Suddenly, all of my concern about losing my solitude is gone. I no longer fear sharing my life with someone. I no longer fear walking the woods with someone at my side. In fact, I want it. I want her.
As I’ve mentioned before, bears do have romantic encounters. While brief, these encounters are every bit as emotional as any human’s romantic encounter. We even feel emotion that could accurately be described as love during these short trysts.
But the trysts, like I say, are always short. Always brief. When I mate with a she-bear, we are never together for more than a week, perhaps two at the outside. We scratch our itch, so to speak, then we part, and there’s no grief or longing in the parting. Hell, I didn’t even shake hands with the last she-bear. She simply nodded, thanked me for a good time, shifted, and left. I showered, shifted, and went fishing, and not once did I think back to the woman whose bed I shared for the past five days.
But with Melody, I don’t want this to be brief. I want this to last for the rest of my life.
We share a long look, and it breaks when Melody frowns. “Why are the others here to see you?”
“I’m their alpha,” I explain.
