I love this man. I love his bear.
And I never get tired of watching the miracle of how he can move from one form to another. It is truly magical.
When he’s ready, his grizzly comes over and crouches down as low as he can, and I grab two handfuls of thick hair and pull myself up and onto his back, just behind his haunches, and hold on tight.
“Ready,” I say, and the grizzly looks up at the moon, then back at me on a snort before taking off into the powdery snow.
As we move together, my gratitude for how my life has turned out overtakes me. The winter air on my face, the seven little bears we have back at the house. Our first set twins, our last set twins, and three in between—all heathy, happy and part of the magnificent chaos that is our life.
My photography studio is thriving. Josephine was right all those years ago, there are so many shifter—and human—weddings and babies all the time, I have to pick and choose which jobs I can take.
I also took Myra’s advice, and do a little sexy, erotica sort of art photography now and then. The combinations of humans and shifters in animal or human form, in couples or alone, makes for some pretty interesting photo sessions.
Ragnar doesn’t work construction anymore. At least, he doesn’t do the hands-on work. He and Robert teamed up about five years ago and have been building custom and spec homes. They’ve done so well and I’m so proud of my husband.
Not just for his financial success, but because of the husband and father he’s become. Our love has only grown, and he still looks at me, and fucks me, like we are newlyweds.
He thanks me every day for giving him the chance to have what he never believed he wanted.
As we come up on the cabin, the place we mated for the first time, I see that it’s lit from the inside with glowing low light, as Ragnar’s grizzly lowers his shoulder for me to dismount on the steps of the porch before he lumbers back a few steps, watching me.
“Aren’t you coming in?”
He grunts, swaying his head back and forth, and in his eyes I can see Ragnar. Even in bear form, what flickers in his eyes tells me my insatiable man-bear is ready for some more Christmas Eve sexy time.
I spin around, grabbing the post that holds up the porch overhang, and do my best little stripper dip, then bend over, shaking my rear end toward him as I hear the low growling from behind.
I pop my hat off and throw it his way. His bear catches it in his teeth and I take the stage.
It’s freezing, but I’m not cold. I peel off my layers, one by one, giving my husband the best striptease I can muster until I’m wearing just my scarf and the moonlight from above.
He makes me feel beautiful even after all these years and all these babies.
Ragnar phases back, naked of course, and his cock is standing tall as I take my bow.
“Get your fine ass inside. I’m hungry,” he growls.
I yelp and skip as Ragnar chases me inside.
His mouth takes me in a kiss before tossing me on the bed like he did that first time. His tongue is warm and wet between my legs, and I let the pleasure flow through me.
On the small table I see a little jewelry box, topped with a bow. I know it’s for me. He wanted to bring me here, and Gran was in on it the whole time.
I don’t care.
I have my bear.
I have my cubs.
I have my bad boy.
But he’s also a good man.
What else could a girl want for Christmas?