Baby For The Bear

Chapter 10

It was not the kind of “body slam” that Ken liked best.

For the moment, however, the thunderous, bone-rattling collision of two bear forms was something that he needed. Sparring and grappling with Reese was helping him burn off energy and smash, however symbolically, into his frustrations. Every crunching impact was a blow against the impasse in which he had left things with Samantha. Ken did not like situations without solutions, problems without fixes. He had tried his best with Samantha, but her emotional wall of doubts and expectations had proven to be as stubborn as an old tree that resisted being knocked over in the forest, and as painful and bothersome as the bees buzzing in a hive. Trees held beehives and beehives contained honeycombs. Ken wanted a honeycomb with long, blonde hair and a curvy body. But it was up a difficult tree and he’d been stung badly trying to get it. Honeycombs high in trees and the bees in them were the bane of a bear’s life.

So, with the full force of a very frustrated bear, Ken reared up on his hind legs and slammed into Reese with all his might. Reese held his ground and the two of them strained at each other, their massive bear bodies pushing and lurching, their powerful bear muscles exerting all their power to get the upper hand—or the upper claw—over the other. They roared and bellowed monstrously at each other, showing lethal fangs in wide-open Ursine mouths. They huffed and puffed, each straining to knock over his opponent. Reese knew the rules very well: restraint was only for fangs and claws. It was a duel of mass and muscle, and Ken’s position as the boss was irrelevant. He must fight to win—though today Ken was proving a greater challenge than usual.

Though Ursine in form, Ken was still human in mind, and in his human mind he railed with all of his wounded pride. How could you do this, Sammie? How could you send me away? How could you ignore how much we want each other? You let me go. You didn’t talk it out with me the whole way. You didn’t let us find our way together. How could you?

No answers were forthcoming. The answers lay only with Sammie, and she wasn’t here. There was only Ken and Reese in this room, and there was nothing to do now but slam together and grapple with each other in ways that would burn off Ken’s energy, but not give him what he needed most. So when the two great bears toppled to one side and crashed to the floor, the thunder of their fall muffled by the mats, Ken, puffing hard, pulled away from Reese and the two of them rose up, grunting, to all-fours and circled each other. And with a raucous bellowing, Ken stood upright yet again, and Reese answered him, and the two bears charged and collided and locked themselves together in another mass of heaving, fur-covered muscles.

Sammie’s voice buzzed in his mind like the droning of bees defending the honey. I’m not the one you need. She actually told him that, after the way they’d been together. I’m not the one you need. Ken roared all the more loudly, as if to topple Reese with his voice alone.

Like hell you’re not, the voice of his own mind said to the woman who’d actually sent him away. You think you’re not what I need? What about what you need, Samantha Vance? Because I don’t even want to hear that I’m not what you need. After everything that went on in your bed, in my bed, I’m not hearing that we don’t need each other. Your beautiful blonde ass belongs to me whether you know it or not. And he roared out his need again.

Reese heaved and shoved forward with every bit of his bearish strength, and Ken, his muscles set to the task but his mind filled with Samantha, swayed back like the honey tree struck by lightning. He crashed hard and rolled onto one side, then onto his stomach. Reese thudded back down to all-fours and stood that way, waiting for Ken to get up one more time.

Ken lay still on the mats, huffing, puffing, groaning bear groans. Reese waited—and Ken stayed just as he was, and commanded his Ursine body to morph. His huge, fur-covered form melted down to the more compact frame of a muscular human male and his head, neck, and limbs changed accordingly. In a few seconds, Kenneth Brecker the man lay naked and breathing heavily where Kenneth the bear had been.

Taking that as his cue that the match was over and he was the victor today, Reese stood on hind-legs again and changed himself. Now, in place of bears, there were two strikingly handsome, naked figures of muscle in the gym. Reese walked over to where Ken lay, bent down a bit, and offered the boss his hand. With a final puff, Ken took Reese’s hand and accepted the help back to his feet.

“Thanks, man,” said Ken. “This one’s yours.”

“Hard fight as usual,” said Reese. And the two of them retreated to the respective walls where they had left their gym clothes. They both got back into short-shorts, and Ken sat himself down again with his back to the wall, picking up the bottle of water that he’d brought with him and taking a long swallow.

Reese squatted down in front of Ken and took a good, long look at the boss. He did not completely care for what he saw. Ken Brecker was ordinarily the most focused person Reese knew, always completely “in the moment,” always totally “in the game.” The man sitting here now was a Ken more distracted, more disquieted and ill at ease, than Reese had ever seen him, as if he were completely “here” physically but otherwise somewhere else—somewhere that he didn’t like at all.