Tracking the Bear (Blue Ridge Bears Book 1) by Jasmine B. Waters

Author:Jasmine B. Waters [B. Waters, Jasmine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-07-01T16:00:00+00:00

It was frustrating, being unable to communicate. I wished I could speak, but the bear’s register wasn’t made to vocalize a human voice. The woman smiled brightly at me.

“Ah yes, this form is quite the effective muzzle, isn’t it? I do so hate interruptions.”

I eyed her with mounting dislike. She was a tall, shapely woman with champagne hair, tied loosely in a braid down her back. Her eyes were a flat bottle-green and they were fixed on me with an equal amount of venom.

“I thought this place would be apropos, as I need to impart valuable knowledge to you. If I allow you to shift back to your human form, you will remain silent until I give you leave to speak. If you cannot follow that mandate, I will shift you back into your bear form until I am finished. Do I make myself clear?”

I dipped my head once, an acknowledgment of her terms. She lifted one hand, clad in a white lace glove, and waved lazily in my direction. The vice that had clamped down on my brain and that had made breathing difficult in the car finally lifted. I focused and was finally able to push the spirit of my bear aside, resuming my human form. Of course, my clothes were completely ruined. I was forced to sit bare-assed on the cold flat surface of one of the desks facing the goddess.

She gave me a cursory once over and a smirk, clearly liking what she saw. That might have been flattering in any other circumstance, but I was a mated bear now, and I knew that she had more in mind for me than a florid sexual escapade.

“Good.” She slid off the teacher’s desk and picked up a piece of chalk. “Now, you pay attention. If I ask you a question, you may answer. Do you know who I am?”

“Not a damned clue,” I muttered. My voice still retained the throaty rasp of my bear’s tone. I cleared my throat. “But you’re not a Native American spirit, I can tell that much. I’ve tangled with one. I know the difference.”

She rolled her eyes as if that was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. “Of course, I’m not. Do I look like I originated from this country?”

“No,” I admitted. Underneath the debutante façade she hid behind, there was definitely the feel of an old-world power. I wasn’t sure what pantheon she came from but she was old, far older than the little wisp of a body she was wearing appeared.

“I am Frigg,” she said, writing the name on the board. As if it wasn’t a name I’d heard a thousand times in prayers at home in lessons about our heritage. I was glad she’d turned away from me, so she couldn’t see me mouthing wordlessly at her back. I wasn’t sure if that broke her vague rules and I didn’t want to be forced back into animal form again.

She turned back to me, hands on her hips. I

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