One
Duncan McDougall
Living in Scotland may seem like a dream, and it is, truly, but she isn’t here, which makes it almost unbearable. I am blessed, but I always feel as if something is missing. My expensive flat has an open view of the River Clyde and it is near a subway station, but it isnae enough. I dinnae get to spend a lot of time there, as I am often with my clan up in the Highlands. It is the only place we can be ourselves.
Can you imagine bears running amok in Glasgow? I do it every now and then, just for a laugh.
On good days, I am as jolly as you like. But, then I think about her and my mood sours. Especially on a day like today. Our birthdays. I am turning thirty and she twenty, and yet I am still not any closer to finding her. Each day, I feel more and more like I am never going to find her. Despair is not something I am used to feeling, but alas here I am.
I have been getting glimpses of her. They are the ones that test my resolve and strength. I feel as if I already know everything there is to know about her. But then again, what would be the fun in that? Instead, I want the pleasure of ‘really’ knowing her. Not to mention, I also want the pleasure of pleasuring her. It’s ridiculous that I cannae get her off of my mind. And my bear, the demanding Grizzly, is starting to get on my nerves with that.
Fun fact, we shifter bears are the only bears in Scotland not in captivity, and we must be extremely careful with our shifts in order not to frighten people. While the world knows of the existence of shifters, it’s best to not rub it in their faces.
On my tenth birthday, I could feel her being born. I felt it deep in my soul. My Mate. It is the most awe-inspiring moment of my life thus far. Whoever she is, she isn’t one of the two lasses born to my clan that night. Not long after, I started to dream about her. Innocuous at first, with small glimpses of her life. It was her dates, where I had to learn to reign in the rage at someone else touching her. Since her high school graduation, the dreams have gotten increasingly erotic.
I still don't know what her face looks like, but her hair and body are burned into my memory. Including, her new brown bear tattoo. It makes me wonder if she dreams of me too. It's been twenty years and my bear is itching to find her, claim her, and breed my cubs into her. She is all I can think about, to the point that I have never desired any other woman. Though many women have tried to capture my attention over the years, I simply don’t have it in me to even pass the time with someone who isn't her.
My only thoughts are of my Mate. She, who completes me, yet I do not know her. More and more I have been dreaming of a haunted house. It’s one of the tourist trap kind, not a real one. Her back is to me with her long dark hair flowing in the cold, moonlit night. There are people everywhere, but she’s all I can see clearly.
Which is why I am sitting on a plane, leaving my clan behind, to find her. I am done with waiting for her to fall into my lap. When I saw New York on the board, I immediately thought of her and knew I needed to start there. Deep in my gut, I know New York City isn’t right, but I feel as if I should be able to figure it out from there.
When my plane lands at LaGuardia, I disembark and walk across the concourse. Eventually, I reach the baggage claim and grab my bag. From that point, I walk outside and hail a taxi.
“Where to, buddy?” the driver asks.
“Manchester,” I say, but I dinnae know why. I’ve ne’er heard of it.
“Manchester? That’s over a hundred miles from here. Your best bet is renting a car.”
“Thanks,” I say, before giving him a twenty and stepping back out. Before turning to leave, I hold the door open for an old woman who is trying to hail a cab.”
“Thank you, son”, she says as she steps in. I shut the car door and head back into the terminal.
Once inside, I make my way to the first car hire counter I see. Jupiter Rentals. Sounds good to me. I spring for the luxury SUV, an Escalade. By the time it’s brought around, I am tired, hungry, and anxious.
My bear is pacing, something or someone has him on edge. The fine hairs on the back of my neck are standing up. Then, my nose perks up and I scent her. Pine needles and lavender assault my senses in a way nowt ever has before.
My bear is starting to freak out. And if I’m being honest, so am I. Suddenly, I hear the amazing sound of her voice before I see her. Following the sound, until the hair and ass I know so well are right before my very eyes.
“What the fuck do you mean you have no cars left? I reserved one online,” she yells. My cock is instantly hard. It looks like my Mate is feisty as fuck.
“Those are not guaranteed, lady. You didn’t enter a credit card to pay for the whole rental, so you got bumped. Welcome to New York. Next,” he says impatiently. I clench my fists. How dare that guy act so disrespectfully to my Mate.
“You gotta be fucking kidding me. I need to get to Manchester today. Please help me.”
“Taxis are right out front. Next in line, please.” I watch as he points to the doors and she steps out of line, pulling her huge suitcase behind her.
I wait and two heartbeats later, her eyes connect with mine. She is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Nowt could have prepared me for this. The feeling is so intense, I dinnae notice right away that she has reached me. My Mate, my goddess is standing two inches from me. Finally. My bear is shuffling within me and aching to burst from my skin, but now is not the time. The incredible feeling of her being near me is enough to keep him happy for now, but I know it will not last long.
Dropping my bag at my feet, I wait as she lets go of the handle on her suitcase and letting it fall. Then, as if our lips are magnetized, they meet with an explosion that goes throughout my body. It makes the incredibleness of moments ago seem like a drop in a bucket. Her lips are soft, pink, and a little wet from when she licked them only moments ago.
As I pull my mouth from hers, we both need to suck in huge lungsful of air. There is a feeling of loss as she takes a small step back.
“Why do I know you, sir? I don’t go around kissing strange men.” Her sweet southern accent is surprising, given that she is wearing a Marilyn Manson t-shirt, a short red and black tartan skirt, fishnet stockings, tall black combat boots, and her bangs are bright purple.
“Ye better not be doing that…”, I trail off, hoping she catches my drift for her name. Which she does.
“Gypsy. Gypsy Caird.”
“Gypsy. What a pretty name. I am Duncan McDougall.” When she holds her hand out to shake, I use it to pull her back toward me. “I think we are well beyond that, lass.”