Octo BEAR fest (Renaissance Shifters #1)

Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

B ill stayed with her right through the whole line, a large comforting presence who never once had to say anything, much less do anything to offer protection. Being there was enough. More than enough. They met the Canadians—a gorgeous pair of women who gotten married recently and were declaring the road trip an extension of their honeymoon—and had a few seconds with many of the other road-trippers, all of whom were almost incoherent with joy. Gwen felt that way herself, buzzing with excitement and remembering, for the first time in a long time, the fun parts of this kind of life.

It was late when the last fans finally drifted away. Late enough that the pub's kitchen would have closed down already, except Bill had gone back to ask them to stay open so the band could eat. By then they were all starving, but still giddy, half shouting at each other about the evening's successes. Bill went to man the grill himself, a big solid guy who obviously knew what he was doing, although when Gwen complimented him, he shook his head and smiled. "I'm okay in a kitchen. You should try my brother's place out in New York, though. They've turned it into a gourmet gastropub."

"Right," Gwen said, amused, "because New York is a very practical place to have lunch before the gig tomorrow. Or for our date next weekend."

His brown eyes genuinely lit up, as if he'd thought she would have forgotten their plans for the next weekend. "Maybe on the third date," he offered.

Gwen laughed out loud and raised her beer bottle to him. It was great beer—this one was called Thunder Blunder, and was apparently one of their most popular IPAs—and if she wanted to be hung over for the next gig, she'd have several. Instead she nursed the one, then accepted a second that she'd drunk most of before she realized she was supposed to drive back to the hotel. She swore about it rather philosophically, trying to figure out in her head how long it would take to walk before she got her phone out and checked the map app.

"I know at least two of the band haven't been drinking," Bill said, settling down at her side, "but I could drive you, if you wanted."

"Why Mr Torben," Gwen said rather hopefully, "you don't have ulterior motives, do you?" He looked so startled she couldn't help laughing again. "I guess not, then."

"No," he said sheepishly. "Not beyond thinking 'and that way I can come pick you up again in the morning, since your car will be here.'"

"Oh, so you are planning ahead. Good to know. Are we having breakfast together?"

"I'd love that. What time do you wake up after a gig?"

"I told you. About three in the afternoon. Oh, all right. I can manage eleven or so. Even ten, if I absolutely have to, but I'd better get to sleep soon if that's going to happen."

"Saturday morning brunches are a thing around here," Bill admitted. "Ten is a lot easier to get a seat at a restaurant than eleven or twelve is."

"We could order room service."

He blinked at her, then, catching her meaning, blushed again. Gwen put her beer bottle down and reached up to scruff his chin, fingers tangled in his short beard. "I don't know if you've always blushed easily or if it's just me?—"

"It's definitely just you."

Her smile widened. "But I love it. Is that a yes?"

Bill groaned and leaned in to put his forehead against hers like he'd done earlier. It was so effortlessly intimate it made her sigh, a soft contented sound, and a feeling inside her to match. "I would love to," he said reluctantly. "But there's still some stuff I need to tell you, and I'd rather you were completely sober for it, honestly."

Gwen leaned back, examining him. His dark gaze was soft, but quite certain. "It's that bad? Or is it me? Because don't take this wrong, but men don't usually turn me down twice."

He groaned again, though this one had some amusement in it. "No, I don't imagine they do, and I'm kind of kicking myself for doing it. It's not bad, and it's definitely not you, but I think once I've explained you'll agree sober is better. Even if you're not actually drunk."

She squinted at him, more mock-suspicious than really suspicious. "This isn't some kind of weird overprotective male thing, is it? Because that crap doesn't cut it with me."

"I'm not gonna say I'm not enjoying being the huge security guy at your back, but no, it's not like that. I promise. So can I drive you home, or should I let you go with your band?"

Gwen wrinkled her nose, then sighed. "I think I should go home with the band, because otherwise I'll try to persuade you to make bad choices. I like you," she added, suddenly feeling like it might not be obvious. "And I tend to be a go-after-what-I-like kind of person."

"I don't think I've ever met anyone like you," Bill murmured. "And I'm weak in the face of beautiful, persuasive women, so, all right. I'll see you in the morning for breakfast?"

"Perfect," Gwen said a bit wistfully. Getting laid after a great show would have been the ideal way to end the night. On the other hand, there was something a bit charming about Bill's insistence on talking about things first, whatever those things might be. "I, oh. I was about to give you my keys so you could just drive the Impala over in the morning, but you're nine feet tall and you'd have to move my seat back. You'll just have to bring me here after breakfast. Or, oh, wait! Do you hike?"

"I like to run around in the woods," Bill said in a funny tone.

Gwen beamed. "If we've got time after breakfast, maybe we can go for a little hill walk. It's good for me to get out of my head and move around some before a show. Especially one…" She trailed off, and Bill leaned in to give her a sudden, soft, unexpected kiss that made warmth spill through her whole body.

"Especially one that might be leading up to making some big life decisions. I'll bring canteens and some trail snacks and we'll hit my favorite trail after breakfast."

She felt her smile go as funny as his tone had been. "Are you for real, Bill Torben? Out here being the perfect guy?"

He ducked his head and glanced up again, expression oddly shy. "Would it be too corny if I said I hoped I was the perfect guy for you?"

"No." She'd only known the man a day and a half, but Gwen felt more confident of that answer than she had of anything in her entire life. "No, I think that would be just about right. I don't know why, because that seems ridiculous, but there you have it."

"Maybe we'll figure it out tomorrow."

Breakfast was good; the hike up into the lower part of the mountains was better, with the autumn leaves just starting to go gold, and a brisker crispness to the air than was obvious in the town, only a few hundred feet lower. Bill brought Gwen up to a lookout, where she collapsed into a wooden bench slightly more dramatically than was necessary. But only slightly. A little breathlessly, she said, "I should hike more," and Bill shook his head, smiling.

"I've just watched you bounce around on stage for over two hours, two nights in a row. Your cardio must be amazing."

"Oh, it is, but only for flat surfaces. I don't do hills. You, on the other hand, are not only the size of a mountain, but can apparently just, like, waltz up them effortlessly."

"I have an advantage there." Bill sounded nervous enough that Gwen sat up from her dramatic collapse to smile at him.

"Is it that you live at the base of a mountain range and can go for a hike through the woods any time you want to?"

"No. Although, yes, that too, but…no. There's something I need to tell you about myself that will clarify it. Maybe. I think. Either that or you're going to run away screaming."

Gwen's eyebrows rose. "Wow. That's. Wow. I don't think I've ever had a guy say that to me before, and I've heard a lot of lines. For the record I'm not sure that's a great one."

Bill passed a hand through his hair, messing up his pompadour. "No, I guess it isn't. It's just, I said last night it was something to talk about and you should be sober?"

"Yeah, and before that you wanted to tell me something and I assumed it was 'hey, I know you used to be Emma Hart and I've been hot for you since I was a teen,' which was about as wrong as I could be, so I think I won't try guessing again. What's up?"

"This is. Woo. I never did this before?—"

Gwen's jaw fell open. "You're a virgin?"

"What? No! What? No !" Whatever was bothering Bill, the question surprised him so much that he looked indignant. "I mean, I hope it wouldn't bother you if I was, but no! It's much weirder than that!"

"Being an adult virgin isn't that weird!"

"That's my point! No, I'm not a virgin, I'm a bear!"

Gwen opened her mouth to—she didn't know what. Laugh, say ' what? ' herself, maybe make a comment about the thing he seemed to have about bears—and while she was waiting to find out how she was about to respond, Bill Torben changed into a bear.

It was the most incredible, peculiar thing she'd ever seen. He shivered, sort of, or twisted, or— something , she couldn't quite describe it—and changed, in the space of a heartbeat, from a big tall thick man to a perfectly enormous grizzly bear. Like, a truly truly huge bear, not that Gwen had any real sense of how big grizzlies were, not up close and personal, but this one was obviously a magnificent specimen. He was on all fours, which didn't make much sense because he'd been standing on two legs when he changed, but on the other hand Gwen didn't know why she was concerned about minor things like that when a man had just turned into a bear in front of her.

Gwen, in what she thought was a very moderate, calm, and reasonable response, said, "Holy fucking shitballs."

The bear laughed. It was obviously a laugh. How she knew it was a laugh and not a threatening huff, Gwen didn't know, but it was definitely a laugh. Then he changed back into Bill, who was standing on his own two feet instead of on all fours like would make sense, and was smiling like he'd just ended a laugh. Gwen said, "Holy fucking shitballs," again, and discovered she had somehow climbed over and behind the bench she'd been sitting on. She petted it nervously a couple of times, then edged back around to the front, although she stood with the back of her knees pressed against the seat rather than coming any closer to Bill quite yet.

She wasn't exactly scared, she didn't think. Flabbergasted. Mostly her mind was filled with variations on 'holy fucking shitballs,' and she thought it might take a minute to get past that. When she did, it was with a squeaked, "Why weren't you on your feet? Your, uh, your back feet? When you, uh, when you did that, you were standing on your, on your human feet," and oh God that sounded insane, but Bill had a small, encouraging, hopeful smile while she bumbled her way through the question. "But then when you changed you were on all four feet, why weren't you on two feet. And why weren't you on your hands and knees when you changed back again?"

"I guess because I was thinking of myself as standing, and humans stand on two feet and bears usually stand on four." He still sounded like a person. And looked like one.

Gwen's heart was beating so hard she thought it would probably crash out of her chest and fly away. "And you, um. Clothes?"

"Things I'm wearing shift with me unless I don't want them to, but I've never found a pair of jeans that will accommodate being stretched across a grizzly-sized ass. The Hulk," he said solemnly, "is really lucky with those purple shorts of his."

A brief, high-pitched laugh escaped Gwen, then turned into a series of real giggles as she sat abruptly, staring up at the big man. "An 'affinity' for bears, huh? Isn't that what you said? Your whole family is like this? Are you—are there?—?"

"There are more shifters than you'd think, yes, but not that many of us in the grand scheme of things." Bill crouched, clearly making an effort to be smaller and less alarming, but Gwen didn't think she was alarmed anymore. Or even sure she had been. Just astonished.

"You're okay," she said. "I'm not scared. Just…holy fucking shit."

He grinned lopsidedly. "Yeah, I know."

"I am on the pill, you know," Gwen said vaguely. Bill's eyebrows shot up and she said, "I assume that's why you wanted to tell me before we had sex. Because I assume there must be some chance of, you know. Baby bears?"

Bill thumped back on his butt, looped his arms around his knees, and laughed. "Ah. Right. No. I mean, yes, we don't breed a hundred percent true, but most shifter parents do end up with shifter kids. But I wasn't really thinking about unexpected pregnancies. I also have condoms," he added, almost as vaguely, then went red around the ears. "Hope springing eternal, and all that. No, I just…um. There's. Uh. More?"

"More. Than turning into a bear." Gwen held up a palm before he spoke. "Is it extremely, extremely important that I learn this 'more' right now?"

The big man held his breath a moment, looking as if he was seriously considering the question. "I don't think so," he said slowly. "It's all kind of tied together, but…no. Not if the whole shifter thing isn't a dealbreaker."

"I don't think it is. I mean, it's not. It's…I have so many questions." Gwen laughed. " So many questions. Like do you tell all your prospective partners you're a bear? You must be very selective if you do, because that can't be safe. But no, I'm good, I'm…" She stared at him a moment, then wet her lips. "Like, don't take this wrong, because I'm not into bears , per se, but…I mean, talk about meeting a guy in touch with his animal side. That's really…" She cleared her throat. "Really hot."

Bill's deep brown eyes went bright with a smile. "I have those condoms with me, just to be clear."

"I also have a recently-discovered yet long-held fantasy about getting fucked by a guy big enough to pin me up against a wall without being afraid I'd get dropped," Gwen said breathlessly. "But there aren't any walls around here."

"Who needs walls?" Bill rose in an incredibly smooth surge and strode to her in a couple of steps, lifting her off the bench, hands beneath her ass to wrap her legs around his waist. Gwen gave a startled squeak even as her entire body lit up with heat and need as his mouth found hers, although the kiss only lasted long enough for her core to turn molten before he broke off enough to laugh against her lips. "I didn't think this through. I should've gotten you naked before I picked you up, because now I don't want to put you down again."

For a couple frantic seconds Gwen tried to work out the physics of that before laughing in despair against his mouth in turn. "Nope, can't make it work. I can get to all of your important bits, but damn, I should've worn a skirt, big man."

He rumbled so deeply it ran through her bones, melting them before he kissed her again, long and deep and slow. She'd more or less forgotten her name by the time that kiss ended, and was trying to meld her body with his through two layers of denim and presumably some cotton underwear. Even through all of that he felt astonishing pressed against her center, a promise of complete satisfaction. She was just about to reluctantly get her feet back on the ground so she could yank her jeans off when laughter and voices came from farther down the trail, and they yelped against each other's mouths in dismay.

"Tonight," Bill breathed. "Wear a skirt for the show tonight, and afterward we'll pick this up right where we left off."

"I never wanted a performance to be over so bad in my life." Gwen was on the edge of throwing all caution to the wind, personally, but Bill, laughing again, put her on her feet, and bent to kiss her again just before a small crowd of hikers came into the lookout clearing.

"Me either," he promised her. "Me either."