Bear My Soul (Fire Bears Book 1)

(FIRE BEARS, BOOK 1)

By T. S. JOYCE

Bear the Burn – (Book 2) - Coming Soon

Bear the Heat – (Book 3) - Coming Soon

Copyright © 2015 by T. S. Joyce

Copyright © 2015, T. S. Joyce

First electronic publication: May 2015

T. S. Joyce

www.tsjoycewrites.wordpress.com

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

Published in the United States of America

Rory Dodson’s hands shook as she stacked the papers neatly. This time was going to be different. She wasn’t going to let Mr. Farris bully her into staying late. Already, he’d nixed her lunch breaks completely. Out of the entire company, she was the only one who wasn’t allowed to take half an hour to eat.

She couldn’t tell if the trembling in her hands was from lack of food or worry. She absolutely couldn’t be late picking up Aaron. Not again.

She stood, smoothed the wrinkles from her simple black skirt, reminded herself not to roll her ankles in her sky-high heels, and strode around her desk toward the conference room. Mr. Farris had demanded a late meeting today, which never boded well for her leaving on time.

But it was too close to the full moon, and Aaron had been displaying new symptoms lately. If he shifted in a room full of five year olds…
Stop it
. Everything would be fine. Rory was going to set up the meeting so the men wouldn’t need her anymore, and then she would slip out, take the back roads through Oklahoma City, and pull into the parking lot right in time with the other moms. She’d been preparing for a smooth meeting all day. This was going to work.

“Ms. Dodson.” Mr. Farris greeted her through a humorless, veneer smile. “So nice of you to join us.” He made a show of looking at his watch, a piece that probably cost more than her annual salary.

She was a minute early, but already, every seat around the conference table was taken with high-powered men and women in business suits. Determined not to let her boss see how much she hated the way he talked to her in front of everyone, Rory matched his empty smile, then set neatly clipped stacks of paperwork in front of each person. Mathew, the accountant, leaned back in his chair and openly stared at her ass as she bent to settle his stack of notes in front of him. She hated the way he always watched her, as if she was nothing but a slab of meat to judge the marbling in. She repressed a chill as he grinned unapologetically at her—the twit.

After a quick retreat to the side bar as the meeting began, she balanced plates of refreshments on her arms and placed them in the center of the sprawling, oval-shaped table. She could feel Mathew’s eyes follow her every move, but she ignored it. Engaging him only gave him a bold tongue and encouraged him to say things that made her skin crawl.

He wasn’t anything like Aaron’s father.

Just thinking about the stranger brought blazing heat to her cheeks. She turned her back on the room, rested her hand on the handle of the coffee pot, and closed her eyes. Cody Keller. She hadn’t seen him since their one night together. No phone calls, no letters—her choice. That man had managed to wreck her heart and give her the best thing that had ever happened to her in one blinding moment. She hated him because he was a stranger who had caused her pain. She loved him because he’d given her Aaron. And just like any other time she thought of Cody, of his easy smile, warm eyes, and the way his hands turned gentle with a touch, she was rocked with emotion she didn’t understand. Loss and joy, all at once.

If caring about a man hurt like this, she was never, ever going to give her whole heart to anyone.

“Ms. Dodson!” Mr. Farris yelled.

Rory jumped, splashing hot coffee onto the back of her hand. Pain blasted up her nerve endings as she rushed to dry herself off with a napkin and stop the burning.

“We’re waiting,” Mr. Farris growled.

“Sorry, sir,” she rushed out. She needed this job. If she didn’t make money, she and Aaron didn’t eat.

With a steadying breath, she turned and faced his furious gaze. Mr. Farris’s sagging face was red, from the thick wrinkles over his throat to his shining, hairless dome. His eyes sparked with something akin to hatred. As she bent at the waist to fill the first coffee mug, Mr. Farris said, “You see, this is why I don’t like hiring breeders.”

“Breeders, sir?” she asked, hating the word on her tongue.

“Yes. Women who have no drive but to produce needy children, and then slither back into the job market without the time to devote to actual work. And then it’s sick days and doctor’s appointments and daycare pick-up times. It’s a complete tax on all of our time.”

Rory dropped her gaze to the two women across the table. One glared at her with vicious contempt, as if she couldn’t agree more with the vile hate Mr. Farris spewed. The other looked decidedly uncomfortable, but still didn’t speak up in Rory’s defense. In defense of all women in the work force, really. And maybe that was just as bad as the other woman’s agreement with the idea that mothers belonged in the home, raising their needy children.

“I’ve already stayed past four o’clock to serve you at this meeting,” Rory gritted out.

“If it weren’t for HR on my ass about hiring qualified women, I would’ve gone with literally any other applicant. I mean”—he huffed a laugh and looked around—“how qualified do you have to be to stack paperwork and serve us a fucking cup of coffee? And you can’t even do that right!”

Angry heat drove up her neck and landed in the tips of her ears. She shook with fury as she set the coffee pot on the table by Mathew. She hoped it burned a ring in the mahogany for them to remember her by because this was bowl-sheet, and she was done.

Aaron was probably already searching for her amongst the other moms, and she wasn’t there for him. Instead, she was here, being berated by this asshole.

Aaron, Aaron, Aaron.
If he shifted before she got to him…

Rory yanked the cordless headset she used to pick up all of Mr. Farris’s calls off her head and set it next to the coffee pot. “Someday,” she said low, lifting her glare to the two women across the table, “if you decide to have children, you’ll look back on this day and feel like absolute rubbish. And you, Mr. Farris. You are a whiskey-belching, conniving, womanizing, disrespectful fuckface!” She strode over to him and dumped his steaming mug over his notes. “It’ll be my pleasure to never serve you again. Have a horrible life, trying to make your insignificant existence more bearable by belittling the people around you. Maybe it’ll work for you someday.” She shot him both fingers and stormed out of the office. “I quit,” she screamed over her shoulder just as the door slammed closed.

Huffing a gust of air, she grabbed her purse and a picture of Aaron that sat on her desk, then jogged for the elevator as fast as her heels would let her. She was already late. And now she was jobless. The full weight of what she’d done hit her like a hurricane. She had a little in savings. Hopefully, it would be enough until she could find something else. Maybe she could pick up a job serving tables or something while she was interviewing to supplement the savings. Shit. Rory couldn’t believe she’d just done that.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, the angry tears she’d been biting back rained down her cheeks. She couldn’t be irresponsible like this. It wasn’t only her who was affected by her decisions. Aaron depended on her for everything. He already had things so hard she needed to make things as easy as possible in all the areas of their life she could control.

In the parking garage, it was painfully obvious which car was hers. The ancient Honda hatchback was scratched and scuffed, the fender crooked. The lime green paint job had begun to crack around the door handles, exposing streaks of rust. It was still running like a dream, though, and that was good enough for her. Heels echoing against the concrete, Rory hurried down rows of dark-colored luxury cars—a grating sea of sameness.

She had to try three times to get the key in the lock, on account of her fingers shaking so badly. With a sob, she yanked the door open and turned the engine, then blasted out of the parking spot, squealing her tires. Her epic storm-out was anticlimactic as she had to zigzag her way to the exit, only burning rubber on the straightaways. She screamed and choked the steering wheel.

When she looked down at the time, panic flared in her chest. She was supposed to pick Aaron up from aftercare by 4:10, and it was already five minutes past that.

Aaron used to only shift on full moons, but for the last few months, he’d been showing signs that his inner bear cub was restless, even when the moon wasn’t bloated and high in the sky. Aaron’s condition was changing, or mutating, or something scientific that she had no guess at because she was no scientist, and she sure as sugar wasn’t going to trust anyone by telling them what was going on with him. That little boy was hers. From the day he’d been born, it had been just the two of them against the world.

She would protect him, no matter what.

Rory stomped on the gas and exited the highway as soon as she saw the traffic was already backed up. She couldn’t afford to sit there, moving by inches, not knowing what was happening to Aaron.

She pushed the only speed dial number she had saved, and Anna answered. “Rory? Where are you?”

“I’m on my way. Tell him mommy is coming, and he doesn’t have to worry about a thing.”

“He’s…” Static sounded over the speaker, and Anna’s voice dipped low. “His eyes, Rory. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, and you know I’ve tried to respect your privacy, but I can’t hide this from the other teachers anymore. It’s too obvious something is wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong with him!”

“Just so,” Anna said, voice pitched even lower, “I don’t think you can do this alone anymore. You need to figure him out or put him in a special program, or…something.” Anna inhaled a long breath. “Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

Defeated, Rory’s shoulders slumped as she pulled to a stop at a red light. “You don’t think he should go to school there anymore.”

“We can talk more about it when you get here. Just…hurry.”

Rory ended the call and tossed the cell phone onto the passenger’s seat. Tears blurred her eyes as she stared at it and gripped the steering wheel. A horn honked from behind her. She wiped her eyes and accelerated through the stale green light.

The preschool was small and attached to the back of a church. Aaron’s preschool class was fifteen kids strong. Only a couple of minivans belonging to Anna and one of the other teachers still remained in the parking lot as she pulled in.

Feeling like absolute grit, she ran for the door, nearly twisting her ankle on a misplaced step.

Aaron ran into her arms as soon as she opened the door.

“Hey, baby,” she crooned, falling backward. She probably looked ridiculous sitting on the carpet in a skirt with one of her pumps dangling off her toes, but right now, she just needed to hug her kid. Today had been hell.

A tiny snarl rumbled from Aaron’s chest, and she stroked his platinum blond hair, a gift from his father. The growl settled, and she eased back and cupped his cheeks. His eyes were fever bright and an odd color—an unnatural mixture of green and gold and certainly not his normal clear blue.

Anna stood against the hallway wall, arms crossed, but her face didn’t look combative. Anna looked sad. Rory swallowed hard and hugged Aaron up tight, then gave Anna an understanding smile. Goodbyes were always hard.

“Thank you for being okay with protecting his secret,” Rory whispered.

Anna shook her head slowly. “You never let me in on his secrets. All I know is that he is a good kid. A sweet one. But this world is going to get ugly on him fast if you don’t get help.”

“What kind of help?” Rory asked with a frown. Instinctively, she hugged her little man tighter against her chest.

Anna sighed and handed her a piece of paper. It was a drawing done in bright paints with three stick figures in front of a house. In the bottom corner, Aaron had signed his name. Half of the letters had been written backward.

“Did you draw this?” she asked.

Aaron pulled back and smiled at the picture, then nodded.

“And who is this?” she asked, pointing to the smallest figure.

“That’s me,” he said in his little pipsqueak voice.

“And this one?”

“That’s you, momma. Don’t you see the eyelashes?”

“I do, baby. But who is this one?”

“That’s Daddy Cody.”

Rory pursed her lips as her heart broke. She’d given him a picture she and Cody had taken the night they’d spent together. It was the only one she had, and now, it was painfully clear it was the only thing Aaron would ever have of his daddy.

Anna lowered her chin and gave Rory a significant look. “Whatever he’s going through, I don’t think you can do this on your own.”

“But his daddy…” She shrugged helplessly. “We don’t know each other, and I don’t know if he would understand Aaron’s condition. Involving him is a huge risk.”

Anna knelt down in front of her, dark hair swishing with the motion. “Rory, I consider you a friend. We’ve talked often enough, and I know you don’t have much support. That’s my advice.”

“Go get your backpack,” Rory whispered, tickling Aaron’s ribs.

He giggled and bounded away, clutching the painted picture of a family that could never be.

“What if his father finds out what is happening to Aaron and exposes us?”

“What if he is like Aaron?”

The idea drew her up short. For a while, she’d thought maybe the little bear inside of her son could possibly be genetics, but she’d researched and couldn’t find anything on families. All the lore she’d tracked down said shifters were created with a bite from another, so this had to be some sort of evolutionary mutation. Right?