Holly Day: The Bear Claw

Hello, Ally’s readers *waves* Thank you, Ally, for letting me drop by. I don’t know if you know this, but both Ally and I get up at the crack of dawn to write. We meet up with Nell Iris, and sometimes J.M. Snyder joins us as well. We chat, and we write.

When I asked Nell if I could drop by her blog and talk about The Bear Claw, Ally asked why I wasn’t coming to her. It was with trembling hands and a pounding heart (not really 😂) I had to admit the truth – I’ve written a sweaty alpha story. The kind Ally hates LOL, and to ask to come to her blog felt wrong. (Ally interjects: HARSH! 🤣 )

Ally, being the lovely person she is, said I could come anyway, so here I am, polluting this site’s wholesome content with an obnoxious alpha werewolf (sorry) 🤣 (Ally interjects: HONESTLY OFELIA, IT’S FINE! FOR GOODNESS SAKE, JUST TELL US ABOUT THE STORY! 🤣 )

I wrote this story to celebrate Be an Angel Day – there are no angels in it, just a stupid alpha who thinks he’s acting like one even though he’s not.

The Bear Claw is an alternative universe story. Everything is the same as the world we’re used to, except people don’t have mobile phones, shifters and psychics and other creatures exists, and all supernatural beings are either dominant or submissive – it’s not a BDMS story. And we have mates. Every person has a small number of potential mates, but they can’t tell until they touch.

Shiro, one of the main characters, owns a bakery and has the ability to put emotions into baked goods. He has most people thinking he’s a dominant, but he’s not.

Pitch is on the hunt for a mate, but he won’t settle for anything but a true mate, and once he figures out Shiro isn’t who he first believed he was, he can’t get him out of his mind.

Excerpt from The Bear Claw

Fifteen minutes later, Pitch winced as the sharp August sun pierced his eyes. “Oh, bollocks.”

Lyra huffed. “Coffee, this way.” She yanked him along. “I can smell it.”

Pitch pulled in a breath, but he couldn’t scent anything, and since he had a better sense of smell than Lyra, she was lying. They rounded the corner, and the bakery came into view as did a sign with a crossed-over wolf. Pitched slowed. “What the feck?” He gestured at the sign; he hated those signs. He was a dominant, why be in areas where he wasn’t allowed to use his power?

“Come on. It’s right there.” She gestured at the bakery. “You won’t die from stepping outside of Shifterville for half an hour.” She handed him a pair of gloves which he accepted with a low growl.

He read the sign. The Bear Claw. Pitch refrained from rolling his eyes. “A bear establishment?”

Lyra grinned at his rough voice. “Bernard told me about it.”

Bernard? “Who?”

“The doorman.”

Right, Bernard. “So, it’ll be packed with bears?” He glanced in through the window and blew out a breath of relief. It wasn’t packed at all.

“I think his cousin or something owns it.” She pushed open the door and the scent of vanilla and coffee swirled around them.

“Ms. Murray.” Bernard grinned at them from behind a paper. He looked worse than Pitch felt.

“Oh, hi, Bernard.” Lyra walked over and sat by his table. Pitch reluctantly followed.

“Bad night, man?” Pitch didn’t mind Bernard too much. He was less dominant than Pitch, which made things easier.

Bernard shrugged. “Schedule got a bit messed up, so I haven’t been in bed yet.”

Pitch nodded. He didn’t care. He’d only asked to be polite which was more than he normally bothered with, but Lyra had developed a soft spot for the bear. Not a romantic one, two doms never had romantic relationships with each other. It didn’t work. Both expected—demanded—to be obeyed. Not always with true mates, then there was a stronger bond and more of a balance. The dominant was still dominant, and the submissive still submissive, but there was more give and take, a deeper trust, and Pitch wanted that. He’d seen true mates. They’d die for each other, they sacrificed for each other, and they worked more as a team than mates who weren’t true mates.

“Hello.” A dark-haired man appeared by their table. Pitch studied him. There was something… He wanted to say he recognized him, but… Had the man been a sub, he’d assumed he’d fucked him at some point, but this man held his head high, his stance relaxed.

He didn’t meet Pitch’s eyes, but many doms had a hard time holding his gaze. He wanted to send out a trickle of power to test the man out, but they were in a fecking human district. He didn’t believe anything would happen if he did, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk to the human police.

“Hi.” Lyra’s voice wormed itself into his mind. “We’d like some coffee, please.”

“Black.” Pitch regarded the man, waited for him to at least glance at him now when he’d spoken, but he didn’t. He had black hair, dark eyes, and his skin was white, but not the same kind of white as his was. Mixed race. Pitch didn’t care—he fucked every color and every shape, no discrimination—but he guessed one of the man’s parents were from Japan or Taiwan or something.

He pulled in a breath, tried to catch the man’s bear scent, but he couldn’t separate it from Bernard’s.

“You want something, Bernard?” The man’s voice wasn’t soft and it wasn’t weak, but it lacked… something.

“I’ve drunk enough coffee to give me heartburn. You don’t have energy drinks, do you?” Bernard gave the man a soft smile and it made Pitch want to snarl at him. Strange. He cracked his neck and drummed his thumb against his thigh.

“I’ll get you something.”

The man hurried off and Pitch watched his every move. “That’s your cousin?”

They looked nothing alike, but cousins didn’t have to.

“Oh no. Shiro is a fortune cookie—”

Pitch snorted. He hadn’t taken Bernard for a racist.

Bernard stilled. “Not like that. He’s my cousin’s mate.”

Pitch wanted to snarl. His cousin’s mate? The man couldn’t be mated. Shiro. Everything inside Pitch objected to Shiro having a mate.