Chapter 9 - Chase
It was hard to take in the sight of Bruin being scolded. It reminded him of the relationship he’d had with his own father; it was the kind of relationship that made a grown man feel like a child. He understood den politics. He knew it wasn’t his world, but he recognized some same features of the world he knew—mainly homophobia, which was apparently problematic in any species. At least his mother was accepting.
“So that was your mother?”
“In the flesh,” said Bruin, proud. “She’s den mother.”
Chase felt his eyebrow crinkle. “Den mother? So she’s not your real mom?”
“She is, but she happens to be den mother, too.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means she’ll rip the throat out of anyone that endangers her cubs. Including my uncle.”
There was something in Bruin’s eyes, almost as if he’d like to see his uncle lose the fight.
“She likes you,” Bruin continued.
“It didn’t seem like it,” said Chase. “I felt like poop she accidentally stepped in.”
Bruin laughed. “She liked you. She was just concerned. Everything is so political around here right now. Anyway, you made her laugh. She likes that.”
Chase wondered if it were Bruin who liked to laugh, more than his mother. He thought back to the conversation, when she basically accused him of being a witch. He ensured her he had no spells or powers to bewitch her son; he was just an innocent guy on his way to Florida who should have never gotten off the bus.
Chase even promised that if they’d let him live he’d be on his way and would never get on—or off—another bus again. He was done with buses forever. City buses, shuttle buses, school buses—he was done with them all.
Bruin’s mother was amused, but then concerned. About what, Chase didn’t know, as she and Bruin had left the room to finish their conversation.
“What else did she say?” asked Chase.
Bruin seemed hesitant to respond.
“What?” asked Chase again.
Bruin’s eyes seemed to be searching the room for an answer.
Chase resisted the urge to grab Bruin and force him to look him in the eye; he remembered that he could just as easily be looking down a bear’s snout. “What is it?” Chase asked instead, his voice laced with care and patience. “What did she say?”
Bruin’s eyes finally found Chase. “You can’t leave.”
Chase didn’t know how to feel or respond. He should be angry about this. And scared. Right? So why was he so excited?
Did he revel in potentially being eaten by a den of real-life shifting bears? Did he have an underlying death wish? What was wrong with him?
“Are you okay?” asked Bruin. “Say something.”
He was still confused. And…horny? He shook his head. His mind was a jumble of feelings and emotions, and of fantasies that were probably bad ideas. “I think I have a concussion,” said Chase.
Bruin laughed then seemed to remember that Chase had actually hit his head. “Do you mean that, or is all of this just blowing your mind?”
Chase didn’t know how to respond. His mind jumbled again at the mention of blowing. “I need to sit down,” said Chase, not wanting to stand there with a growing erection.
Bruin lead him to a seat while being careful not to touch him. “I know this is a lot…”
Bruin went on apologizing and explaining but Chase couldn’t keep up. His mind was on what this meant.
For one, his uncle would be concerned. He told his uncle he was taking his time getting there, but by now he’d be concerned. Second, he should be the most concerned about this. So why was he so turned on by the idea of being Bruin’s captive?
He thought he heard about this. It was called stockholder syndrome or something. Did he have that? Maybe he did have a concussion.
His mind refocused as Bruin brought him a glass of water. “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” said Bruin, “they’re just trying to scare us.”
“Right,” said Chase, blankly, not following whatever Bruin was talking about. He took the water from Bruin and took a sip. Half of him wanted to spill the water on himself, an excuse to get out of his clothes; the other half wanted to douse Bruin, hopefully to the same effect, but he wasn’t sure if Bruin would shift or possibly melt. His mind was jumbled, but he was sure of one thing. He wanted Bruin. He drank the water in two gulps.
“Thanks,” he said, handing the glass back to Bruin. He stared at Bruin as he handed him the glass, his intent spilling through his eyes.
Bruin seemed oblivious. “There’s beer and food, too,” he said as he went back to the kitchen. “This doesn’t have to be bad. It’s only a few days. Until the council meets.”
Chase wondered what all they could do in that time.
“Want anything?” Bruin asked from the kitchen.
“Well,” said Chase, wondering how to approach what he wanted.
Bruin sniffed the air and his body went erect. “Whoa,” he said. He looked at Chase and smiled.
Chase smiled back, happy the penny had finally dropped.
“Stop that,” said Bruin. “I know what you’re thinking.”
Chase smiled.
“Sorry,” said Bruin. “We can’t.”