Chapter Seventeen: Samantha

As their kiss deepened, she placed her hands on Henry's chest and leaned into him. Heat threaded through her veins as he ran his tongue along her lower lip, and she opened her mouth, allowing him to deepen the kiss further. Samantha's heart raced as Henry's strong arms encircled her waist, pulling her closer. The warmth of his body seeped through her clothes, igniting her desire.

A desire to be naked with him. Skin to skin.

But did he feel the same? Had her kiss pushed their relationship somewhere he did not want it to go?

However, as their kiss broke, Samantha gazed up into Henry's eyes, seeing the same hunger and desire she felt mirrored there.

She swayed a little on her feet, grateful for his strong arms around her.

Was this really happening? Had she kissed Henry?

Oh yes, she had. There was no other explanation for these sensations flooding her body.

She'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be held like this, to be wanted so intensely. The realization both thrilled and terrified her.

It had been so long since she'd allowed herself to feel this way. And after Donald, she'd doubted she would ever feel ready to open her heart to the possibility of love again.

Henry's hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb gently stroking her skin. "Samantha," he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. "I've wanted to do that from the first moment we met."

Samantha leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When she opened them again, she saw the tenderness in Henry's gaze, mixed with a hint of uncertainty. She understood his hesitation; they were both heading into unfamiliar territory.

"Henry," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I've wanted this, too."

The admission hung in the air between them, and Henry's eyes searched hers as if seeking confirmation that she truly meant what she said. Samantha nodded slightly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Encouraged, Henry leaned in again, this time placing a soft, almost reverent kiss on her forehead. She closed her eyes, savoring the tenderness of the moment.

Then, as Henry pulled back, Samantha felt a sudden chill where his warmth had been. "I want you to know that I don't expect anything. We can take this as slow as you need."

"And what if I don't want to take it slow?" she asked. What if she was scared that if she didn't find the courage to go further now, if she let fear take hold, she might never take this step forward?

A step she wanted. Desperately.

A mix of surprise and desire flashed across his face. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

She reached up, running her fingers through his hair, relishing the softness against her skin. "I'm sure," she whispered, pulling him closer.

Their lips met again, this time with more urgency. Henry's hands roamed her back, sending shivers down her spine, and she groaned as his tongue plundered her mouth.

But then he stopped and stepped back, his hand on the rail to steady himself.

"Henry?" Samantha asked, confused. Did he have second thoughts?

"There's something I have to tell you first. Something I need to show you." She could tell by his expression that whatever he had to say was important. To him.

To them.

"Then I'm here. For you. You can tell me anything," Samantha told him and reached out, just as he'd reached out to her and touched her heart.

"This might…" He pressed his lips together into a thin line, the strain evident on his face. "I don't want to scare you."

"I don't believe there is anything you can do that will scare me or change my belief in who you are," Samantha told him firmly.

"I hope you are right," he said, and then took her hand, leading her down the porch steps.

"I can't leave the children," she hissed as he led her away from the cabin.

"We don't have to go far." He stopped walking and let go of her hand. "This will do."

"For what?" Samantha looked around. "What do you want to show me?"

"Me," he replied. "At least a part of me…"

"A part of you?" Samantha wrapped her arms around her body.

"It's easier if I show you," Henry replied. "Just stay there. And don't be afraid."

But she was afraid. She shivered as goosebumps crept across her skin. She missed the warmth of his arms, the heat of his body.

"I trust you," she whispered. It was the truth. She might be afraid, but deep down, she knew Henry did not mean her harm.

And then the hairs on her arms stood on end as static electricity filled the air. She blinked. Henry had disappeared.

One minute he'd been there and the next he'd gone.

"Henry." She took a step forward and peered into the darkness.

There was something there, but it wasn't Henry. It was bigger, looming in the darkness.

A bear! She stumbled backward. Had the bear attacked Henry?

Samantha threw a glance back toward the cabin. The children! She had to lead it away from here.

Turning to face the bear, she tried to figure out a way to do that without getting herself killed. Her children had already lost one parent, they were not going to lose a second.

Yet as she looked at the bear, really looked at him, and she froze. There was something familiar about him. But she'd never seen a bear in real life.

However, she had seen a painting of one hanging in the cabin. She'd stared at it with fascination enough to recognize the bear she was staring at was the same bear in the portrait painted by Henry's cousin.

"Henry!" It sounded absurd. How could this bear be Henry? Yet she knew deep in her soul that it was true. This magnificent creature before her was Henry.

The bear—Henry—took a tentative step forward, his massive head lowered slightly as if in submission. His eyes, warm and brown, held the same tender expression she'd seen in Henry's human eyes just moments ago.

She stared at the enormous bear before her, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. This was impossible, and yet...she couldn't deny the truth of what was right in front of her.

"Henry?" she whispered again, her voice trembling slightly. The bear nodded its massive head, confirming her suspicion.

She'd read stories of shapeshifters, of course, but had always dismissed them as mythical. Because how could such a thing be true?

But such a thing was standing before her.

Instinctively, she reached out her hand, wanting to touch him. Because if she ran her fingers through his thick fur, if she touched his large head and stroked his snout, then she would know for sure it was true.

Impossible. But true.

Her hand trembled as she reached out, fingers hesitating just inches from Henry's massive furry head. The bear remained perfectly still, his warm brown eyes watching her intently. Samantha took a deep breath, steeling herself, and gently placed her palm against his snout.

The bear's fur was surprisingly soft beneath her palm, and she felt the warmth of his breath against her skin. Slowly, carefully, she ran her hand along the side of his face, marveling at the impossible reality before her.

As she stroked his fur, the bear leaned into her touch, a low rumble emanating from his chest. It wasn't quite a growl, but rather a sound of contentment.

"Henry." A rush of affection infused her veins. This was what he wanted to show her. This was his secret.

One he needed to share with her before they took their relationship further. Of course, Henry was a man of honor, a man who knew she'd had a traumatic past, and he did not want to hurt her by not being completely honest.

She kneeled before the bear, and he lowered his head. Cupping his face in her hands, she rested her forehead on his. It was as if she were seeing things clearly for the first time. As if she were opening herself to possibilities. No…realities.

From the first moment she'd seen Henry, they had shared a connection. From the first moment they'd touched, she'd experienced a shared bond.

"One true mate," she whispered, even though it seemed absurd.

The bear nuzzled her and let out a low moan as if confirming her suspicions.

Then he stepped back, and she let him go.

The air around him shimmered, and then the amazing creature disappeared. A moment later, Henry reappeared in his human form, his eyes fixed on her. Eyes filled with longing and love.

"One true mate," he murmured, and she straightened up, her breathing fast, her pulse quickening, ready to take the next step with this man.

Samantha cupped his face in her hands, just as she had the bear's, and rested her forehead on his. For a long moment, they stood there as if frozen in time. Then she inched her head back and looked into his eyes.

The bear and the man were one and the same.

She took a shuddering breath, and pressed her lips to his, giving in to what she felt in her heart, in her soul.

And in her body. She longed to be with him, to make love to him.

As their kiss deepened, there was no stab of guilt, no feeling of betrayal toward Donald. She would always love her husband, the father of her children, but that love did not bind her to him now that he had passed away. He would want her to move on, to find love.

"Take me to bed," she murmured against Henry's mouth.

He pulled back, his eyes searching hers, and then he leaned down, scooped her up in his arms and strode toward the cabin.

His cabin. His bed.

Henry took the stairs two at a time, his footsteps silent, easing her fears that they would wake the children.

In two strides, he was at the bedroom door, shouldering it open. When he reached the bed, he set her down, gently, tenderly.

As he straightened up, she watched as he unbuttoned his shirt and then tugged it over his head, dropping it to the floor.

Samantha sat up, then tucked her knees under her as he stepped forward and she ran her fingers across the plains of his chest, curling the tips around his nipple.

Henry's breath hitched at her touch. He gazed down at Samantha with smoldering intensity, his chest rising and falling rapidly under her exploring fingers.

Emboldened by his reaction, Samantha leaned forward and pressed her lips to his sun-kissed skin, trailing soft kisses across his chest. Henry's hands tangled in her hair as she explored his body, her lips and fingers tracing the contours of his muscles, and a low growl rumbled in his chest.

Gently, Henry tilted her chin up, capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His hands roamed over her back, down to her hips, pulling her closer. Samantha melted into him, her body molding against his as desire coursed through her veins.

With trembling fingers, she reached for the buttons of her blouse.

Henry's hands gently covered hers, stilling her movements. "Let me," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

Samantha nodded, dropping her hands to her sides as Henry slowly unbuttoned her blouse. As his fingers brushed her skin, heat flared in their wake, igniting her desire.

She wanted him so much. Yet a part of her was scared. She had not been with another man since Donald…

When he reached the last button, he gently pushed the blouse off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. His eyes roamed over her exposed skin, dark with desire.

She shivered, a delicious sensation that chased away her concerns. Henry was hers. They were meant to be together.

And when he unclasped her bra and cupped her breasts in his hands, her fear was gone for good.