8. Rosalie

8

ROSALIE

L os Angeles. Two weeks later.

It's been a couple of weeks since I saw Cooper in my apartment building's parking lot sounding for all the world like he was trying to reason with me—plead his case. But he has no case. I'm not going to become a bear. I'm just not. I have an art career to build, things to do.

He can't just claim me without me having any choice in the matter. It's too much like an arranged marriage for my taste. It somehow feels both like yesterday and a million years ago that all this happened, and a part of me is half arguing with myself about if any of it even happened at all. I know I must sound like the dumbest movie heroine in the world right now but really… shapeshifters? Were-whatevers? Vampires?

Those things just aren't real. They're fun to fantasize about, but the reason they're fun to fantasize about is that there's absolutely no chance some supernatural hottie is going to claim you're his fated bride or mate and whisk you off to his castle. Because things like that just aren't real.

But he was real. If he wasn't, I wouldn't be hiding out in L.A. right now. Oh, sure, I was meaning to visit my sister anyway, but I wouldn't have taken a red eye… rushed away from my life… possibly run away from my first big opportunity as an artist if there wasn't a real thing to run from.

I sigh. He was hot though. And I mean, if it was just a casual fling? I'd be down for it. Aside from the psycho stalking—which maybe he can't even help under the circumstances—he seemed like a nice guy. In between alternately thinking he was crazy and fearing for my life and future, I felt a spark—that magical zap of electricity that shoots through your body as though you literally just got shot by Cupid's arrow.

I wonder if those are real, too. Let's hope not. I'm really not a fan of anybody but me being in charge of my fate. I'm sort of a control freak that way.

Katelin was surprised to see me that morning, bright and early at six a.m. But she didn't complain when I hobbled over her front door step all injured and pathetic. I kept looking around, afraid I'd somehow see Cooper, but no way could he be there.

Getting on a plane was the best way I knew to keep him from tracking my scent because I'm pretty sure a bear can do that. And I hoped that maybe in a few weeks he would have forgotten it. I mean, we've been living in the same city for who knows how long, and if he ever got a whiff of me, it didn't mean anything to him then.

So maybe he'll forget what I smell like. Maybe I can go back home, rent a new apartment, and go to my art show after all. I paint forests with sunlight shining through the trees and dappled shadows along the forest floor, waterfalls, bears, wolves. But I use a rainbow of colors in my paintings, not just standard browns and greens and grays and blues.

My sister is an actress. It's mostly national commercials and small roles in movies right now. A tiny speaking part here and there. She's got her SAG card. She's one of those actresses where you wouldn't recognize her name but if you saw her you'd be sure you'd seen her in something. And you probably have. Waitress number two. Girl running from dragon. Side character's baby sister. Fast food worker. And most recently: hotel maid who finds dead body. She had several lines in that one. I'm so proud.

She's got an industry party to go to tonight. Technically it's not fully a party, but just some people she's trying to network with all meeting up at a club, and she's convinced me to go out with her.

Admittedly I've been a little less down to party and go out than I normally am. I think in all the activity it's really just hitting me what a close call I had out in the woods, and I don't mean Cooper. But the combination of being attacked—even though that man thankfully wasn't able to complete his goal—and being stalked by a bear… well I'm not the same Rosalie that walked into the forest that day.

I'm a more cautious Rosalie. A less carefree Rosalie. A bit less innocent. I'd managed to stay off the radar of direct male violence for so long, and now… I don't know. But it's not something I want to talk to Katelin about. In the first place, I can't talk about Cooper, and in the second, if I talk about that man, it just makes it more real. And besides, he's dead. He's not a threat to me anymore.

If I don't tell anyone, it can disappear and fade into the background of my memories and no one looks on me with concern or pity to remind me of it. As far as my sister knows, I got lost and sprained my ankle in the woods, then inexplicably decided that was the time to get on a plane to California.

And my ankle is healed now, so I should go out. If I don't, Katelin will definitely start asking questions I don't want to answer.

"You're not dressed yet?" she says, coming into the guest room. She lives with her boyfriend, but he's out of town on a movie shoot. He's a slightly more successful actor she met when she was Waitress number two. You still wouldn't know his name probably, but you'd definitely know his face.

When they first started dating, she proudly informed me that those are his real abs . I'm not sure why she thought I would doubt his abs, but I guess with movie magic these days she just wanted to make sure I was aware.

Tonight she's wearing a black bodycon dress with gold strappy heels and a gold anklet. A long thin gold necklace disappears into her cleavage. She brushes away sun-kissed blonde hair to put in a pair of gold hoop earrings.

My hair would probably be blonde streaked if I was out in the sun as much as she is, but aside from my forest wanderings, I'm mostly an indoor person, so my hair has gone to a milk chocolate brown.

"Seriously, Rosalie, I can't be late. I know it's just club hopping, but I could get an actual character name this time," she says.

"Okay, I'm just not sure about this dress." I gesture at the red dress with thin spaghetti straps lying across the bed. It makes me feel like the flag you wave in front of a bull.

"What's not to be sure about? You'll look great!"

My sister and I are the same size—same size shoes, too. She helpfully picked out some black ankle boots to go with the dress. I didn't exactly pack club scene wear when I was tossing all my clothes into a suitcase like a mad woman.

By the time we get to the club, I feel more comfortable, a little more like my old self. Pre-Forest Adventure Rosalie. Party Clubbing Dress sold separately.

Katelin waves across the loud club, and some people wave back. She leans close to my ear and shouts, "Are you going to be okay if I go over there?"

"Yeah," I shout back. I mean not really, but I get how important these networking opportunities are for her to advance her career, and I did just drop in on her. And as far as she knows, nothing is wrong in my life. I just decided to spontaneously show up. She shouldn't have to rearrange everything for me when I can't even bring myself to tell her the real reason I'm here.

I successfully begged off going anywhere while my ankle healed, and I had a good excuse. But she didn't want to leave me alone tonight, and she already had these plans. So I'm going to suck it up and deal.

She weaves through the crowd to get to the group of men and women on the far end of the bar. I'm not sure how they can network in a place this loud, but sometimes it's just people liking and having familiarity with you that can create opportunities. It's how I got my first big show at a hot new gallery opening. Dumb luck and socializing. Life's little opportunities rarely show up when you're huddled up inside your house.

I'm thankful the heels on the boots I'm wearing aren't high. My ankle feels fully healed, but I worry I could re-injure it if I step the wrong way. I start to move off the dance floor when someone comes up behind me. A male someone. My first instinct is to have an embarrassing freak out… but he smells… wow he really smells good. What is that?

It's strong yet subtle at the same time. Warm, musky. But also mossy. But somehow in a good way. I'm not sure I'm describing it right. I'm not sure mere words could convey it.

And the solid warmth of him pressed up against my back feels… comforting somehow. His hands skim my sides to land on my hips as he urges me to move with him. His erection grinds shamelessly against my backside as his arm wraps around my waist, urging me to press harder against his length.

It's a heady cocktail of that powerful scent, pure masculine strength, sensuous movements, and stark primal possession.

He hasn't spoken a word to me, and given recent traumatic events, I should be panicked, but all I feel is calm—and other things I'm going to ignore. Dark animal things.

I'm hit with a bolt of such overwhelming lust that suddenly I want this man more than anything I've ever wanted. I want him to hike up my skirt and fuck me right here in the middle of the dance floor. I want him to put me on my hands and knees and drive into me from behind in front of all these people—sweaty, writhing hot bodies that could never compete with the inferno building between us. I feel hot and cold all at once and the arousal between my legs thumps heavy with the beat of the music. The pornographic images flitting through my mind only grow stronger the longer we dance.

If you could call this dancing.

One of his hands has moved up to grip the front of my throat, holding me in place against him as he brings us impossibly closer. His other hand starts to slide up my thigh, under my dress, between my legs, his fingers barely brushing against the heat and wetness of my panties.

And then my fear starts to edge out my lust. No! I can't let this happen.

Forgive me if I don't want to just jump back out there and let a man touch me after… the woods. It's normal to feel a bit of disgust toward all men when one tries to hurt you like that. It almost feels shameful to let any man touch you ever again.

So why the fuck am I letting this stranger so close? Why am I rewarding any man for the bad behavior of his kind? Bad behavior I have personally suffered. I don't know him. He could be a fucking serial killer.

I come back to my senses and pull away. He grabs me and pulls me back to him, and instead of more fear, I feel a kind of rage I've never felt before. I stomp down HARD on his foot with my heel. He lets out a yelp, and releases me.

"Rosalie, wait!"

I shouldn't be able to hear him over the noise of the club, but I do. I turn around, and there's Cooper. I shouldn't be surprised. Didn't some small part of me subconsciously just know? It's why I didn't look back at him—just let him be a stranger, because the stakes are far too high with him as he really is.

He's wearing jeans and a black T-shirt that pulls tight over his muscles. His tattoos wind down his arms, ending just above his hands. Those warm brown eyes… that closely shaven beard… No. Absolutely not. His agenda might not look as bad on the surface as the guy from the woods, but it still involves his fucking boner… and controlling me. No. I'm not his mate. I'm not dealing with this alpha bro You belong to me , bullshit. I'm not going to just swoon into his arms because he's pretty and saved me, as though a man doing the decent thing somehow now obligates me to give all my freedom away to him.

Men really are just living on an entirely different planet.

And he doesn't get to just decide any of this.

I fight to get through the crowd on the dance floor, but his hand is around my wrist before I can get away.

"Let GO of me!"

A few people start to notice the conflict and back away, and I see a bouncer eyeing us. I'm pretty sure even as large as the bouncer is, that Cooper could take him.

He holds his hands up in surrender and takes a step back. "Just talk to me. I just need to talk to you." He gestures toward a free-standing circular booth in the restaurant portion of the club.

If he managed to follow and find me all the way out in California, he's going to keep following me. The time away hasn't dissuaded him. If anything, he seems more obsessed—which isn't great for me. Maybe I should just talk to him here in a public place and try to reason with him.

Finally, I sigh and nod and allow him to lead me to the booth. We sit. The acoustics of the club are such that all the noise and music are concentrated at the bar and dance floor. While we can still hear the music from our booth, it's a more distant faded sound so we don't have to shout to be heard.

Cooper scans the menu. "What are you getting?"

"This isn't a date."

"You still have to eat."

"I don't want you paying for my meal." I leave off the part about how I don't want him to feel like he's making progress with me, or like a tab is growing and the only way to pay the bill is spending a night in bed with him. But given what he's already told me and seems to fervently believe, I know it wouldn't be just one night.

He looks up and arches a brow. "Honey, you're my mate, of course I'm paying for your meal."

"I am not your mate!" I hiss.

"Take it up with fate."

He is so infuriating, but I choose not to make a bigger scene. Obviously I can't be this guy's mate, but I can at least be decent. He literally saved my life out in the woods, and he hasn't harmed me even though he had the same full opportunity that other man did.

A waitress shows up and I begrudgingly order a club sandwich and club soda.

"I'll have the same," Cooper says, handing the menu back.

He's friendly and polite to the waitress, but he doesn't ogle or watch her walk away. Am I keeping a points system in my head? This is not a date. This psycho bear is stalking me. He doesn't get the benefits of my points system.

"Do you not understand the word, no ?" I ask him when we're alone.

He takes a deep breath. "Rosalie, it's not like that. Just give me a chance to explain."

"What exactly makes you different than that man in the woods?"

"I can't believe you'd ask me that."

"Well I am asking you that, so tell me, what makes your inability to hear no and his inability to hear no so different? Is it because you're hot? You think because I'm attracted to you that means I can't possibly have life plans that don't revolve around riding your dick?"

"I knew you were attracted," he says, grinning, and the dimple that appears near the corner of his mouth almost kills me.

I roll my eyes.

"This is why I wanted a shifter mate, not a human," he says. "Humans don't understand. And look, I get it, your males are fucking awful. I will be the first one to acknowledge it."

"Oh don't pretend like you care. I'm sure you all are the same with the female shifters, pushing your greater size and power around to get what you want."

Something in his face changes, and I can't pinpoint what emotion so quickly swept over him. But he doesn't leave me to guess. "Female shifters aren't physically weaker than male shifters, so no, we don't have the same power dynamics within our kind that humans do. I don't know why nature was such a bitch to human women, but it's not like that in a lot of the animal kingdom, and it's not like that with shifters. So whatever you think is going on here, understand I may look like a man, but I'm not one."

"But you're stronger than me, and you won't stop stalking me. So I'm not sure how I benefit from Shifter Social Politics."

He lets out a frustrated growl. A human sound, not an animal sound.

I sigh. "Fine, explain. What do you think I need to know that would make any difference at all to what I've already told you. You've made it clear you aren't going to leave me alone. So my options are just to "accept my fate" as you say. Why should I?"

The waitress returns with our drinks and sandwiches. That was shockingly quick, but sandwiches aren't exactly the most complicated cuisine. Cooper is silent while she sets down our plates and drinks, his eyes never leaving mine. I've stupidly left my hand on the table, and he reaches out to cover mine with his own.

I feel that same electric jolt that I don't want to acknowledge. This is some kind of magic, it's not real.

Really, Rosalie? You think it would require magic for you to want to sleep with this guy? THIS guy? Wow.

I could do without my brain's judge-y internal sarcasm right now. Whose side is she on?

His.

When the waitress has gone, I dig into my sandwich. Cooper just sits there staring at me. I've given him my undivided attention, and suddenly he has nothing to say. That's because there's nothing to explain. I'm about to point out this fact when finally he does start to talk.

"So, that day in the cave, you didn't believe me, and then once I shifted I couldn't talk to you anymore…" he trails off.

"Okay, so you tell me I'm your mate, but surely there have been people who reject their mate. What happens then?"

He gets a very uncomfortable look on his face before finally looking away. And suddenly my imagination is going wild with the possibilities, none of them good.

"I just need you to give me a chance. I'll wait as long as it takes."

"For sex?"

He nods. "Sex, completing the claim, everything. I just need you in my house."

Oh sure, that's totally reasonable. I'll just move in with a stranger who stalked me across the country and has decided I'm going to spend the next several centuries in his bed.

I shake my head. "It's not that I don't find you attractive, Cooper. It's that I'm not interested in romance. With anyone. I have goals and you would be a distraction . "

Yeah he would.

I really need my internal monologue to just stop talking right now. She isn't helping.

"What do you think I would prevent you from doing?" he asks, looking clearly confused.

"I don't know. I don't know you! But you would for sure slow me down."

I take another bite of my sandwich and stand. "I'm sorry, but no."

He grips my arm, and I just stare at him. "Let me ask you something."

"Okay," he says, not loosening his grip.

"Do you plan to keep me away from my family and friends?"

"Of course not." To his credit he looks horrified by the suggestion.

"Well, then you're going to have to let me go, because my sister isn't going to just not notice if I disappear. How do you think family gatherings will go if you kidnap me?"

He can't even deny it. He fully intended to just haul me out of here like a cave man. Finally he lets go of my arm and I get out of there. I text my sister and then arrange for a flight back home. I have an art show to prepare for, and if he can stalk me all the way out to California, there's no point in missing out on any more opportunities.