The Right to a Bear's Arms (A BBW Shifter Romance) (Wolf Rock Shifters) by Carina Wilder Page A

she’d hung on one of the treehouse’s new walls. Often when she did this she felt as though she were looking at a stranger, yet she was unsure of whether this was something she experienced because of her repeated shape-shifting or if it was a habit that was common to all of humanity. After all, every person changed; they grew taller, shorter, fatter, balder. Wrinkles emerged over time. No one was immune to any of it. Except, perhaps, for her. She wondered if she’d be able to fight off the ageing process with her shifting skills. She’d never tried to morph into a younger version of herself and somehow, didn’t want to. It seemed like counter-progress, as though she would be returning to less happy times.
    About half an hour after she’d returned, as Zoe was heating some stew on a camping stove, she heard someone making his way up the tree. She could smell Colson before she saw him, reassured by his familiar scent.
    He emerged from the hole in the floor, to which he’d added a door which swung open upwards. When he’d made his way into the house, though, he kept a distance from Zoe.
    “Make yourself comfortable,” she said. “I’m sorry that I don’t have furniture yet. Getting it up here is going to be a feat, isn’t it?”
    “We’ll find a way,” said Colson. “With your shifting and my strength I’m sure we can do some heavy lifting. It’s just a question of coordinating ourselves and working together.”
    “True,” said Zoe, pondering how long a giraffe’s neck might be , and wondering what it would be like to work “together” with this man.
    Colson sat down, resting after his day of physical labour and grateful to be able to do so.
    “So,” said Zoe, “are you enjoying being a mechanic?”
    “It’s fine. It sort of is what it is, but to be honest I’ve had more fun building this place than anything.”
    “Have you?” she asked, allowing herself a smile and for a warmth to spread over her. Colson had this effect; it reminded her of taking a sip of scotch and allowing a sort of numbing, gentle pleasantness to spread through her. And Conner and Kyla’s assessments of Colson had only confirmed what she already knew: he was one of the good ones.
    “I have,” he said, pushing himself up to his feet and walking around, admiring his own handiwork. “This is what they call a labour of love. ” He turned and looked at Zoe. “I’ve built it for you, because you’re the woman I want to be with. Because I fucking adore you.”
    Zoe knew that her face was going crimson with the statement . She wanted to laugh at herself for it; she didn’t know that she was capable of feeling quite so innocent and swept off her feet by words.
    But in that moment she genuinely believed that this beautiful man had feelings for her, and that was enormous. She turned to Colson, who was looking at her with apprehension on his face. He’d no doubt felt rejected by her in past.
    But he wouldn’t tonight.
     
    ***
     
    Colson eyed Zoe, his body taut with something like fear. This big, strong man who was afraid of nothing was terrified in that moment that the woman he’d grown to care about deeply would throw him out for daring to express himself. What would she do?
    Still, he had to let her know. He had to say it one last time, even if it was the last he’d see of her. He cared about her and everything in him told him that he needed to look after her. He needed to let her know his feelings. And she needed to hear him.
    Zoe let go of the spoon she’d been using to stir her stew and left it simmering on the stove. She walked slowly over to Colson, who stood immobile, and put her hands on his waist, palms flat, fingers grasping the seam of his t-shirt.
    Without a word she pulled it upwards and Colson, inhaling deeply, raised his arms.
    Zoe laughed when she tried to pull it over his head; he was almost too tall for her. But she managed, and the body made up of tanned, carved muscles stood before her; the body