Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Addison

I open the door and I think I'm going to faint.

He's been gone eight days.

I expect four of those days because he's at the station but he doesn't show up on the fifth day. On the sixth day, I drive by his house. The mail is piled up. I go to the Company 417 station house and a firefighter named Roland tells me he's been gone for a while. Another named Barrett arrives. I know Barrett. He's been to my place for dinner. Naturally, I demand information. In private, Barrett tells me none of the others will talk because they don't know I know that my man is a shifter. He says Nathanial is gone for a shifter thing and I need to be patient. He promises me he's safe. Well, naturally, that's not enough for me. Naturally, that doesn't do it at all. However, what the hell am I supposed to do, right?

And what the hell am I supposed to do right now when I open the door and the jerk who disappeared is standing on my porch?

What I want to do is confront him. I want to yell at him and demand he give me an explanation, that he explain things to me, especially telling me where the hell he went, what the hell he did, and why the hell he had to leave in the first place. I really want to do that. My desire to do that is among the strongest desires I've ever possessed.

But there's a stronger desire right now.

So, my face doesn't wear my anger, not at the moment. Instead, it wears my need for him. I don't know if this makes me a weak woman or what. I don't care though. Anyone dating a bear bigger than an elephant can judge me. Nobody else can. I throw my arms around him and I kiss him. I kiss him hard, very hard. I kiss him and I make it clear with the kiss that it's intended to be a precursor to much more than a kiss. I guess all of this might make me seem a little pathetic. The truth is, I don't care.

Oh, I know it isn't popular today to say something like this. I know I'm supposed to refuse to be diminished in any way. I'm supposed to be strong and independent. I'm supposed to never lose sight of that and, essentially, not even need my partner.

Well, I'm not a good woman then. I'm just me.

I need Nathanial Cameron, and I'm willing to be whatever the hell I need to be in order to have him. I'm willing to turn into a different person if that's what it takes. Judge me all you want but nothing you think or say is going to change how I feel. I need him and I'd rather lose who I am than lose him. That might not seem like a simple choice but it is. It really is.

This is just such a completely overwhelming thing for me. I mean, I'm just so absolutely desperate for him. It bypasses just the physical and it's emotional. I need him and I can't feel like I felt when he was gone. I can't feel like he's not mine. I can't feel that way.

I pull my mouth back and whisper, "You can…" Then I stop. I was going to tell him he can fuck my ass. Every guy wants that, right? I figure if there's nothing else that'll keep him with me, being the girl who gives him everything will do it, right? If he wants more than anal, I'll do a threesome for him. I know some girls who might be interested and…

Well, you can tell I'm desperate.

And I have just enough intelligence to tell that I'm desperate before I speak. It's that realization that keeps me from offering my ass. I don't want him to know that I'm so desperate. That would be pathetic. So, instead, I finish, "… do anything you want to me today, Nathan. I've been so horny without you that I'll do anything. I need it so badly right now."

Okay, so I still sound desperate but now I sound desperate in a sexy, slutty way instead of desperate in a stupid and pathetic way. I'll take it, you know. I'll definitely take it. I kiss him again and slide my hand right down to his crotch. I take hold of his cock and stroke as I kiss him.

Does it make me stupid that I'm relieved to feel him growing hard under the denim?

Well, I'm very relieved. I don't know how to explain the silliness to you except to tell you that when you're a big girl like I am, you build up some defense mechanisms. Those mechanisms aren't always easy to explain or to express but I can tell you that you're always waiting for the other shoe to drop when it comes to relationships.

But not this time, damn it.

I'm not giving in this time, damn it.

That is decided for me when I back through the door and I realize I'm pulling him into the house. Right then, I push myself away. "No, damn it. I'm not going to let my clitoris deal with this. What the hell, Nathanial? You care to tell me what the hell you just decided to do? Or is our relationship supposed to work that you do whatever the fuck you want and then come back to me when you need to get your dick wet?"

Wow. I never talk this way. Get your dick wet? That's something I saw on a crude comedy, for goodness' sake. I've never heard it in any actual conversation before now. I stand defiantly in front of him, and it occurs to me that this is just weird. I'm talking to a force of nature and not just to a man. No. I'm not talking. I'm yelling at a man who's more of a force of nature. This man is so much more than a man. Even as a man, he could snap me in two. As a bear, he could do it with his jaws. I'm yelling at the force of nature!

Damn it, I don't care. I'm not wrong about things and I have a right to say my peace about it.

Well, I do.

I mean, I don't know if I ever reach a point where I'm at peace but I sure as hell let him have it. When I finish he says softly, "You're right."

I cross my arms in front of my chest and say, "Well, what the hell are you going to do about it?"

He looks at me for a long while. I don't know where I've come up with this kind of strength, to tell you the truth. I don't know why I'm not apologizing and having sex with him to make up for it. That's my typical behavior in arguments with guys. Not with him, though. The stakes are too high, I guess.

"I… it's hard to be a bear and to be in a relationship," he says slowly. I just roll my eyes at him. He says tentatively, "I need to figure it out."

I step back and say, "Well you let me know when you have it figured out." Then, I close the door and, I guess, just to make a point, turn the deadbolt kind of aggressively. I stare from the corner of my window as he walks slowly to his truck, get in, and pulls away. I feel pretty damned proud of myself for not being a doormat.

But the moment I lose sight of his truck, I crumple to the ground and weep like a baby.

I think I wept for two days straight.

And very large portions of the days after that.