Romance: Chosen By Her Bear: A BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance Standalone Read online

  Chosen By Her Bear

  Ashley Hunter

   Copyright 2015 by Ashley Hunter

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced

  in any way whatsoever, without written permission

  from the author, except in case of brief

  quotations embodied in critical reviews

  and articles.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any

  person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  First edition, 2015

  I.

  Why oh why didn’t you, Ava Williams, look that boy in the eye, you stupid girl.

  I had to mentally chide myself every time after such an episode (one would think that I would get used to it by now, but no). What would be that librarian thinking about right now? Probably not me.

  For a bright few moments, he and I were the only two souls in the universe; that is until the stupid woman behind me suddenly decided that she was running late for her weekly Wednesday gym class or something. I would have argued had I not been myself in need of a gym class. Sigh.

  Anyway, this has been my problem as far back as I can remember. Not born with superhuman looks nor inclined to induce anorexia to get a body suitable for a Victoria’s Secret model, I was always on the heavier side and that is where problems started with my love life.

  Nonexistent as it is. I recently passed through college without as much as a boyfriend to my name. If my grandmother had to be believed, and it is extremely dubious that she is, it is your curves, honey.

  I can’t bring myself to tell my dear Grammy that it is 2015. But maybe she has a point. What do I know? I am 24 years old and without a lover. There are not many who can boast that. There are not many who would call it boasting.

  Ironically enough I have always been confident in my life, knowing what I wanted and who I wanted. It was going after who I wanted that was the difficult part.

  My curves always made it difficult to maneuver boys like other girls did, wrapping them up around their bony fingers. As for me, I have always been crippled with the fear that nobody would be interested in me, just because.

  In principle I knew that the world should be a judgment free zone and I should embrace who I am, but damned if the real world worked like that. Everybody likes to dole out principles and paste them on their cars as bumper sticks; living them, that’s a whole different ball game.

  No matter what everybody said, which ranged from looks don’t matter to find someone who loves you for your mind, and not your body, I had never been able to get the confidence to move beyond a certain wall to reach a point where a guy actually fell for my brains.

  I know. So very Jane Austen.

  Anyhow, this is the sum of it: I am a 24 year old graduate (think of Dustin Hoffman, only female and thirty pounds heavier. OK, don’t think of Dustin Hoffman), no men in sight and the weight of loneliness on my still young shoulders, pressing me down.

  Couldn’t a knight in shining armor come along? I shouldn’t think like that. Women don’t need knights anymore. But I need a relationship. No, not need. I want a relationship. Is it too much to ask? Does pining for it make me a villain for my gender? Where’s my John Wayne or Humphrey Bogart? Hell, where’s my Raylan Givens?

  Maybe I should not be thinking about fictional characters.

  Reality is stranger than fiction and I had always lived by that rule. But nothing in my life had happened that proved this axiom. That didn’t stop me from believing in it, but I had to agree that the strength of my conviction was waning, as is if often the case when you keep waiting for moments that never come.

  What happened in the next few weeks is beyond strange. I should never have doubted it.

  This is the story of what happened.

  II.

  The Beginning

  It was a dark and rainy night. It really was, I am not stating a cliché of noirs. Thor must be having one hell of a party.

  I had been held back at my office due to a sudden crisis in the Middle East. I worked for a political think tank and due to the uncertain global condition; our work hours usually didn’t limit themselves to Pacific Standard Time.

  I had my umbrella open but it wasn’t doing much good. The rain seemed to be coming in from all four directions; the wind sure wasn’t helping. There were no taxis to be found and it wasn’t a surprise.

  Who would be willing to risk driving in weather like this? I kept on walking, the cold biting my skin like a sharp teethed animal. The thought of finally reaching home, in my warm cozy bed was all that kept me going. If only I had somebody to cozy up to. Hmmm. Wouldn’t that be nice?

  I mentally shook myself. This wasn’t the time or the place to think about such thing; though I couldn’t help but playback the lyrics of the famous song in me: Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain. Truer words had rarely been said.

  Maybe this was the reason or maybe it was the water pummeling the leaves of the trees and the streets and the buildings that I didn’t hear anything whistle by near me.

  If it had been a quite night, I surely would have noticed something. But this being the night that it was, I didn’t feel someone walk up behind me. I didn’t feel when they pressed a cloth over my face, the smell reminding me of hospital rooms and oddly, bars.

  My scream was muffled by the cloth over my mouth and the strong hand that was wielding it. Had I been able to scream properly, I doubt my voice would have carried over more than five feet, given the extraordinary din that was being created.

  Soon I was oblivious to the noise around me, the water falling from the sky, the cobblestone giving off that strong smell it always does after being washed. Soon, I was engulfed by darkness.

  The Awakening

  It had to be a dark room.

  My eyes opened and at first nothing seemed to make sense. One moment I was wet and walking down the street, the next I am kidnapped and wake up in a dark room. This is right out of a Saw movie. I was shaking. It was weird. I didn’t remember giving my brain the message to quake my body.

  Then the reality dawned on me: I was scared out of my mind. I wasn’t just shaking; I was trembling. Despite the cold rain falling outside, the deafening thunder still pounding away in the heavens, I could hear my heart beating, no thumping, against my chest.

  It was a wonder my ribcage was holding its shit together and not letting my heart pop out. There was a storm of questions in my mind, not least of which was: will I live to see the light of the day? Will I see the light of the day? Who kidnapped me? Why? Where am I?

  I was still trying to figure out the answers to this question that I tried to stand up and immediately I realized that my feet were tied to the bed post.

  I tried my best to get free, without making any sound, but my efforts rang loud and clear. I stopped, so that I could hear if someone was coming and sure enough there were heavy footsteps outside. I immediately lay down on my back.

  The door opened and a sliver of light entered the room. A man carrying a candle stick entered the room. He was holding the candle in such a way that his face was lit up in one of those Hitchcockian thrillers.

  “You are up,” he said. It was not a question.

  I was too scared to say anything. His face didn’t look too frightening, for a kidnapper. If I had to be honest, it was quite attractive, that face. I mentally punched myself: too early to develop Stockholm syndrome!

  “Sorry about the light. It’s the rain,” he said.

  Why was this fella apol
ogizing to me? I didn’t complain about the dark. If I knew my getting kidnapped rules, the kidnapee didn’t have much choice in what happened. So, I remained silent.

  “For a minute I was afraid that the chloroform was too strong,” he said and just as he finished the sentence, light sprang back up, throwing everything in sharp clarity.

  I shielded my eyes; going from immense dark to sudden light wasn’t a picnic. After a few moments, as my eyes adjusted to the light, I opened them slowly. The room was plainly decorated, rather drab. There was a window (so I was going to see the light after all) and another door which presumably led to the bathroom.

  Then my eyes focused on my captor and I gasped. He was the hottest guy I had ever seen. He was tall, muscular and his eyes were a color I had not seen before. What to call this color: bottle green?

  He was wearing jeans which looked as if it was sewn onto him (like the rumor that got around for that Marilyn Monroe dress….Happy Birthday, Mr. Presiiiiident). He didn’t look like a kidnapper but he sure was one. What are the chances of getting kidnapped by this guy?

  As my mind tried to register the whole situation, he moved closer to the bed and I instinctively recoiled. Hot or not, this man was a creepy kidnapper and there was no happy ending to that story.

  He took a knife out of his pocket and my heart skipped a beat. This was it. I wasn’t going to see the sun. Then, with a single stroke, he cut loose the rope that was tied to my leg and the bedpost. I immediately drew my legs inward.

  “Sorry, I had to tie you up,” he said and he genuinely looked sorry. It was all very confusing. “I didn’t know how you would react and I couldn’t take the risk.”

  “Where am I?” I said in a trembling voice.

  “I will tell you everything,” he said, his eyes avoiding mine. “But you must be hungry. Come down. I have set the table. We will eat and talk.”

  He said this and left the room, closing the door. This was definitely strange. Why was the stranger, no scratch that, kidnapper, being so nice and all? Was this to lull me in some false sense of security and get a jump on me? Nothing was making sense but I knew one thing was sure: I was hungry as hell.

  He sat across from me on the long dinner table which made it very awkward. I could not help but think of the scene from Beauty and the Beast when Belle had dinner with the beastly prince.

  Well, this guy sure ain’t no beast. The food was pretty good and ample. At first I restrained myself, not knowing what was going on but when he started eating, so did I.

  The food was eaten in silence. Towards the end, he broke it.

  “My name is Damien,” he said, in a way that suggested that he was going to tell a long story. That was fine by me: I wanted answers and quickly.

  “I am Ava,” I said.

  “I know,” he said simply.

  “How?” I asked quickly.

  “Wait and I will answer all your questions,” he said, in a calm voice, one that somebody uses while trying to explain to a kid why his favorite cartoon cannot be played on the TV all day.

  “I belong to the House of Knightrunners. My father is advisor to the king ---“

  “What king?” I interrupted him. “This country has no king.”

  Damien smiled; heart, beat, skipped.

  “You wouldn’t know the king I am talking about. Let me finish.”

  I decided to zip my mouth.

  “So,” Damien said, getting up and pacing the cavernous hall. “Our realm is the Greenworld, ruled by King Jacob. There was a prophecy, about 30 years ago, a few years before I was born and when Jacob was a boy and his father ruled the Greenworld. The prophecy concerned the future bear king ---“

  “The what?” I couldn’t help myself. Did he say bear king?

  Damien stopped in his tracks. “Yeah. Did I not mention that earlier? We are half bears. We can turn into bears.”

  My jaw hit the floor. I was too stunned to say anything. Surely this fella was out of it.

  “You’re crazy,” I said weakly. My mind was trying to wrap itself with what he was saying.

  “It might sound crazy,” he began. “But please let me finish and I will prove everything to you.”

  I once again quieted myself.

  “So, where was I? Yeah, the prophecy. My father, who was advisor to the last king, was there when the prophecy was made. It said that the future bear king can save this clan from this curse of shape shifting by one thing and one thing only.”

  He paused and he was now positively avoiding my eyes.

  “He has to impregnate a virgin with a pure soul. The virgin should not have seen 25 cycles of her life,” and when he said this, his eyes finally looked into mine and my heart was racing faster than ever. “You fulfill the criteria. You are a virgin and you are---“

  “24 years old,” I said. The situation was starting to sink in and fear was rising like a snake out of its pit. I didn’t know what to say and what to do. But Damien was not finished with the story.

  “Now, at first the kingdom was all for it. They tried very hard to find someone for Jacob but couldn’t. Then something happened. One day my father chanced upon Jacob talking to the very Seer who had made the prophecy about him all those years ago.

  The Seer told Jacob that if he can impregnate the virgin, and sacrifice the baby as soon as it is born, then he will be granted eternal life. As soon as my father heard it, he knew what was happening; Jacob is not a benevolent King. He is greedy. He is cruel and above all, he is a coward.

  He fears death. He will not care who dies as long as he lives. Do you understand, Ava? Jacob plans to murder you as soon as he gets the child. And then he is going to murder that child as well. He is a sick man. And I plan to stop him.”

  Finally Damien was done and there was a defiant indignation, a certain righteous anger in his eyes.

  As for me, I was too dumbstruck to say anything. It was no doubt, one of the strangest things I had heard in my life. Bear kings? Shape shifters? Prophecies? Greenworld?

  This seemed right out of a paranormal young adult book.

  “Why did you kidnap me?” I asked.

  “Because otherwise he would have gotten to you,” Damien said simply.

  “I made a promise to my father that I would not let that man find you and kill you. The blood of an innocent would not be spilt. I am your Protector.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. I always thought I didn’t need protection but here I was, in a world of beasts and non-humans, far out of my element.

  I was scared, I was helpless, I was far from home in the company of an impossibly good looking shape shifter and my head was spinning.

  “Prove it,” I said, challenging him.

  “Prove what?” he said.

  “Everything,” I said. “Prove what you told me. Prove that it is not a lie.”

  He nodded resignedly.

  For a moment he looked downward and it seemed he had fallen asleep while standing up. Then it happened: his limbs started to grow, hair started to sprout out everywhere and his clothes were torn from his body. I recoiled back, the scream that I so wanted to produce, stuck somewhere in my throat.

  Where there stood Damien previously was now a bear: a huge bear with menacing red eyes and sharp teeth. He was looking at me and I felt scared. Can he control himself when he is a bear? Can he think and rationalize like a human?

  These questions were whirring in my head and Damien started trotting towards me. Any sane person would have run at that moment, but I was rooted at the spot. He reached my feet and sat down gently. I breathed a sigh of relief and that was it. I fell down and fainted.

  Fade to black.

  III.

  Light. Finally. The dream is over. I am in my bed. Sleeping. It was one crazy dream.

  I keep my eyes closed, hoping that that way the events of last night which I was more than happy to attribute to a dream were nothing but only that.

  Well, a part of me really hoped that Damien did exist. I slowly opened my eyes and
reality came crashing in. The ceiling I was looking at was not mine. The room was not mine. Even the light entering from the window felt alien. I sighed and a knot tightened in my chest.

  Just at that precise moment the door opened and Damien entered. Was it my imagination or did he become ten times hotter overnight? It was actually that he had taken a shower and his wet hair looked alluring to me.

  Then I remembered the bear from last night and recoiled.

  He seemed to have guessed what had transpired in my mind.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “When I transform, I am still me. I won’t hurt you.”

  He said this and sat on the edge of the bed. This closeness was making me flush.

  “I have bought some clothes for you and there’s plenty of food in the house,” he said. He was saying this in a matter of fact voice, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

  “How long will I be here?” I asked him.

  He stopped mid-sentence. He knew it was going to be an answer that I wouldn’t like.

  “For now, as long as it takes to protect you from him,” he said.

  “I don’t need protection,” I said, defiantly, though my conviction was shaky.

  “Yes, you do,” he said firmly. “This is a world you know nothing about. It isn’t your world out there. Here the enemies don’t play by any rules. Jacob knows no mercy. He will cross any line he has to in order to get to you.”

  He got up and started pacing up and down again. I noticed that he did that when his brain was working, when he was agitated.

  “Right now, the only thing standing between him and you is me,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “You think too much of yourself,” I said coolly. “He hadn’t been able to find me for so long. What makes you think he could now?”

  “Because he is desperate now,” Damien said, hatred in his eyes. This emotion did not suit him at all. There was an ugly look on his face. “There is nothing more dangerous than a cornered animal.”