Free Bearly Breathing (Alpha Werebear Shifter Paranormal Romance) by Lynn Red

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    “Hell,” Orion said, swirling a toe in the water and dropping another of the small pebbles he had picked up from the sandbar where he met her. He didn’t really have any idea how, but something told him he’d never forget that girl, with her streaky, dirty-blond hair and those cool, even eyes that turned up just slightly on the outside corners. “What am I doing?”
    The big, slumped over bear took a deep breath and let it out slowly, dropping another pebble in the water. This was the other way he passed the time. Paranoia, thinking about Clea, and how she was so strong, so brave, that when the little cub was in trouble, she dove on top of her.
    And then, this. Dropping pebbles in the water. Every hour or so he’d trek back to the sandbar, grab another handful of rocks and wade back. It was like a very slow, very boring version of limbo.
    Another tiny stone plunked into the water between Orion’s feet and he plucked the next one, rolling it around in his fingers. Each rock was worn into a smooth oval. They’d probably been in the river for a thousand years or more, sitting there, waiting, and letting time wear them down.
    Exactly like him.
    In between rounds of pondering the finer points of existence, a loud crack caught Orion’s attention. He swung his massive head to the left, in the direction of the sound, and glared hard into the trees. Every muscle in his body tensed, ready to pounce. He climbed up on his branch into a low crouch. Whatever came out of those woods was going to regret being alive.
    He narrowed his eyes, sniffing the air to catch the scent of whatever was...
    “Jesus,” Orion grunted. “A squirrel? I need some Xanax.”
    As he derided his own anxiety, a small, brown and white speckled squirrel poked its head out of the undergrowth. Orion watched it run along the riverbank for a second, dig something up from the dirt and then run off, back into the trees. On the edge of the forest, the little guy sat up on his haunches, gnawed on whatever he’d dug up and then disappeared with a chirp.
    Slouching heavily, he relaxed again. The overhanging branch that functioned as his throne creaked slightly as Orion settled back into his standard, straddling position and dropped one more time-worn stone into the water. This time when he did, a foursome of trout scattered when the rock hit the surface and sank.
    For a moment, he stared at the ripples emanating from where he’d dropped his rock, just letting his mind be carried away like the leaf that came down the river, followed the ripples and went on its way.
    The oak leaf didn’t do any attention-getting at first, but a second later, Orion surveyed the woods again, and realized that the only trees as far as he could see, were Douglas firs. Jamesburg was famous for them. Or so he’d heard.
    Looking back toward the sandbar where he met his destiny, he stood up, craning his neck.
    “What in the hell?”
    Orion hopped off the tree and took a few steps toward what appeared to be a massive tree that had fallen in the river. Unconsciously he shoved the handful of pebbles in his pocket and took a few more steps.
    “A tree? Another one? What’s going on here?”
    Someone in the distance shouted – or maybe it was a laugh, it was hard to tell – and then another tree, then another, and a fourth, all fell at more or less the same time, splashing into the river and sending down a cascade of leaves.
    These were oak leaves, Orion noticed. They came from somewhere else. All that was around the Jamesburg River were huge Douglas firs. Oaks? Someone was doing this on purpose.
    In the distance he heard a squeaky, partially slurred voice shout triumphantly. “This’ll show that asshole mayor!”
    Orion cocked his head to the side and leaned toward the sound, sniffing the air. The acrid, sharp odor was familiar to him, but it was just outside his immediate grasp. There were hints of musk and heavy rose aromas overlying a very potent perfume. It seemed to him