“It’s a shifter,” Wyatt said, examining the body. He’d suspected it from the start, but the intoxicating aroma coming off of the curvy hiker had clouded his senses. He hadn’t recognized the bear at first, but the man he knew from his local clan. “Colin Chase. He owns a small wilderness supply store by the river.”

“That’s Colin, all right,” said one of the rangers.

“I’m calling this in,” Wyatt said to the rangers as they milled around the body. “Don’t touch anything.”

He stepped away and radioed in to the station. A few sheriff’s deputies would be on their way in minutes. In the meantime, he had a sweet-smelling, terrified hiker to attend to. He scanned her heart-shaped face and the soft brown hair that tangled around her shoulders from the fall. Flashing hazel eyes looked up at him with so much trust, it made his heart jump in his chest.

“I’d like you to come down to the station with me to give a statement, ma’am.”

“Okay,” she stammered, her eyes tired and glossy with unshed tears. She stumbled toward him, holding her painting supplies clumsily in her shaking hands.

“Here,” he said, offering her support as she struggled over the uneven ground. “The main trail is just around the corner.” She took his hand, and an electric spark shot through his arm. He sucked a quiet breath through his teeth.

This woman was more than just a witness in a homicide investigation. His inner bear rumbled and clawed inside his mind as he helped her to the main trail. Her little hand felt soft in his big, rough one. When they made it to the trail, he reluctantly let her go.

“What are you doing up on the mountain?” he asked her. Pressure built in his chest and tightened around his heart. Why did she affect him like this?

“I’m here on vacation. I like to get away from the cubicle and the city to paint in the forest for a week or so a year.”

“Where are you from?” he asked, making it seem like he was taking notes for the investigation. In reality, he wanted to know everything there was to know about Candice Gray.

“I’m from Seattle. I work in administration at a tech corporation.”

“You aren’t a painter?” he asked, glancing at the watercolor hanging out of her painting box.

She turned to him and opened her mouth in a smirking smile. “No. I’m not a painter. Just an office drone.”

“How long will you be in town?” The thought of her leaving made his bear angry. He shoved it aside. His bear could be irrational sometimes. When he saw or smelled something he wanted, he went full bore at it until he got it. Wyatt knew he couldn’t approach Candice that way.

“This was my first full day at the park. I can’t believe I witnessed something like that. That man was a shifter. What are the odds? Until just a few weeks ago, no one even knew they existed. Now I see one shot in the woods. It’s crazy!”

“A lot of people are shocked,” he said. Since the shifters had decided to come out to the public last month, there had been push back from the humans. Several shifter hate groups had cropped up in no time flat.

Wyatt hadn’t supported the plan to come out to the public. He’d always thought it was dangerous. But the voice of a single game warden in rural Montana couldn’t hold back the tide of change. Now they would see the outcome of their decision to go public. Could this homicide be a repercussion of that decision?

“It’s a new world. That’s for sure,” Wyatt said. “You’ve never had any contact with shifters?”

“Not that I know of. I can’t even imagine.”

Wyatt rumbled. He kept his guard up around humans. He hadn’t come out yet, though he thought maybe Sheriff Jefferies suspected. A lot of Montana game wardens had revealed themselves to be grizzly bear shifters. His kind were well suited for the job of protector of the forests and the wildlife that lived there.

“Have you ever met a shifter?” she asked him.

“Maybe.”

They made it down the trail to his truck. The logo of the game wardens emblazoned on the doors—a grizzly bear inside a sheriff’s star. That logo always made him chuckle. He opened the door for her and helped her climb inside. She set her painting box on the backseat and fastened her seatbelt as he got in the driver’s seat.

“Do you think this was a murder?” she asked.

Wyatt turned to her and frowned. The thought had crossed his mind. There were plenty of shifter haters out there. It was similar to all other irrational human prejudice. “Don’t know,” he said, turning the key in the ignition, but he had a pretty good idea.