Only Bears

Ellie 

I have a confession to make.  

You can keep a secret, right? 

I don’t usually wear stilettos.  

Or pasties. 

Or a mirror finish, fire engine red lip gloss called “Bad Decisions.”  

At least, not while I’m Ellie, the prim and proper auditor who works in the mayor’s office. She wears sweater sets, sensible shoes, and maybe a touch of tinted moisturizer if she has to dress to impress for an important meeting. That girl never met a rule she didn’t follow to the absolute letter. Word on the street was she was sweet, but far too uptight, with a bunch of grandma hobbies. 

Let them think that. They didn’t know the other side of me. And they never would. 

Once I clocked out and kicked off those clunky, sensible shoes, I became Synamon Honey, queen of the Only Bears platform. I’d recently gone viral after live streaming myself eating a peach cobbler while moaning the names of all the fans in my top tier.  

When I was Synamon, all bets, and most of my clothes, were off. Rules? Syn never met one she didn’t bend until it snapped in half. She was wild, free, and in total control of her sexuality. 

Tonight, I had my very first live performance. My most loyal fans had paid top dollar—up to five times the face value—to come see me live on stage at The Redheaded Stepchild in Sawtooth Forest. 

My face was painted silver, with a crescent moon over my left eye and signature red lips.  My costume consisted of pasties, a tiny plaid schoolgirl skirt, fishnets, and sky-high stilettos. A wavy black wig that went all the way down my back covered my mousy brown hair.  

“You can do this,” I whispered to myself in the mirror. “They’ll never know who you really are.”  

As much as I loved being Synamon, I had a reason for digging my claws into my boring government job. This brush with fame was so much fun, but it couldn’t possibly last. And it certainly didn’t come with a full benefit package or a pension.  

Stop holding yourself back, my bear groaned. The sky’s the limit for Synamon. Tonight’s just a taste.  

Syn knew she was right, but Ellie was scared shitless. 

A knock on the door made me jump in my seat. Sawtooth Forest was too close to Boise for comfort. Someone who knew me in real life could totally be here. But it was just my best friend, Jen, who was the only person in Boise who would ever know about my secret identity. 

“You look so fierce.” She covered her mouth with her hand as she took in my stage outfit. “Like you’re not even the same person.” 

“Good.” I could hear the crowd chanting my name in the distance. “Is it time to go on?” 

“Almost.” Jen volunteered to act as my manager for the event. Her job description? Handle the details and keep me from freaking out, not necessarily in that order. “Listen, there’s something I’ve got to tell you—” 

My heart sank. “Don’t tell me the mayor’s here.” 

Or worse, my ex... 

She scoffed. “Are you kidding? He’d burst into flames the second he walked through the door.” But then her expression turned serious. “I’ve been watching your Only Bears account to see what your fans are saying about the show. Figured you could use some of it in your promo. But some of them—there’s no way to sugarcoat this, are being total creeps. I needed to scrub my phone with bleach after reading those comments. So I hired a security guard.” 

My mouth dropped. My head was already spinning with the reality of going on stage any second. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask who was being creepy. If this was a live stream, I’d give them a playful tongue lashing. But it was a live performance, and the thought of it sent a shiver down my bare spine. 

Jen didn’t scare easily, which was why I asked her to help me tonight. She had no problem speaking her mind. So if someone had freaked her out enough to hire security…wait, how much did security cost? The paycheck for my performance tonight was pretty sweet, but it wasn’t hire security sweet. 

All those thoughts went out the window when my bodyguard walked in. 

The least she could’ve done was warned me he’d be smokin’ hot. Like six-foot-four, black T-shirt straining against muscles, growls with every breath hot.  

His gaze swept over me and my ovaries threatened to explode. 

“My name’s Brad,” he said, offering his hand. His gaze scanned the room, like he thought there could be a threat in here. “I’ll be sticking close all night long.” 

The dude was taking his assignment way too seriously, and I hadn’t decided if it was adorable or terrifying.  

“Synamon.” A bolt of electricity shot through me as my hand touched his. 

He can’t possibly be my mate. 

I swallowed hard. This was not the time to catch feelings. 

“You’re my bodyguard?” I added. 

“That’s what they tell me.” The corner of his mouth curled into a grin. “I’ve heard about you.” 

“Have you watched her livestreams on Only Bears?” Jen asked eagerly, breaking the spell. 

He shook his head. I breathed a sigh of relief. The whole reason Synamon Honey worked was no one knew who I was.  

“That’s okay,” I said playfully. Synamon would never be too terrified to flirt. “I’ve never had a bodyguard before, either.”  

“Most people haven’t,” he said gruffly, almost all business, but he was still holding my hand. “No one will know I’m here. Unless they have to.” 

But I knew he was here. 

The club manager came up behind Brad. “Ms. Honey, we’re ready for you.”  

I let out a long exhale, but it wasn’t enough to make me relax. “I’ll be right out.” 

“Okay, last minute check,” Jen patted my dressing table frantically and then borderline assaulted me with a powder puff. “Do you have absolutely everything you need?” 

My gaze was magnetized to Brad’s. “Now I do.”  

Static cracked, and Brad let go of my hand, pressing those rough, calloused fingertips to his earpiece. He gave a curt nod and then his gaze was back on mine, warming me like the sun. “I’ll be watching you. Wow. That sounded better in my head. I meant—I’ll make sure no one touches you.” 

He closed his eyes and sighed.  

The big bear wasn’t only gorgeous, he was awkward too, which put him into adorable territory. But cute as he was, there was no hiding this bear had bite.  

“Thank you. I know you’re gonna be the best bodyguard I ever had,” I said. 

“El-Synamon.” Jen’s face turned as crimson as my lips as she caught her slip up. “We need to do a touchup before you go on stage.” 

Brad nodded and headed out the door. 

I stood there staring at it after it closed like I forgot how to move. 

“What the hell was that?” Jen scream-whispered as she whacked me in the face with the powder puff. 

“Careful.” I ducked away from her to miss the next love pat from the puff. “You mean, the guy you hired?” 

“Of course I mean the guy I hired.” She came between me and the door, and cautioned a quick look over her shoulder, like she expected Brad or moon knew who else to appear. “The two of you, the way you were looking at each other.” 

So I didn’t imagine it. “I was just getting into character.” 

She crossed her arms defiantly across her chest. “Then what was he doing?” 

“His job, Jen.” I took a step toward her, but she didn’t budge. “And I should go do the same.” 

“Ellie,” she said quickly as I turned the knob. 

“You can’t call me that here,” I scolded. “Nobody can ever know who I really am.” 

She nodded in apology. “Just be careful out there, okay? You’re gonna be amazing, I know it.”  

I opened the door, the stage manager smiled at me, and spoke into his headset. The emcee’s voice echoed through The Redheaded Stepchild, and the applause, the anticipation grew to a frenzied pitch. 

All the usual rituals I used to get into character couldn’t be applied as I strutted down the long, dark hallway. It was time to let pure instinct take over, which terrified me, because Ellie wasn’t the type of woman who left anything to chance. 

You’re not Ellie tonight, my bear reminded me. You’re Synamon Honey. Time to start acting like it. 

Someday, I’d stop being offended that my bear preferred my alter ego to the real me. But there was no time for hurt feelings as adrenaline pumped through my veins.  

Please don’t let me shift… 

These nerves, which were pure feral energy, were to be expected the very first time I stepped on a stage in front of a live audience. I’d never even been in a school play before. The only times I’d ever been on stage was to graduate as valedictorian of my high school class and summa cum laude from college.  

But this was next level.  

Stage fright wasn’t what had the butterflies in my belly training for their own version of the Olympics. It wasn’t even the chance that someone could recognize me. 

It was Brad. 

Something about his touch was different. Primal. Like this wasn’t just a job for him. It was a soul-led mission.  

That’s because he’s your… 

Nope, nope, nope, I shut that line of reasoning from my bear down immediately. Just because he was the first man I’d let get this close to me in ages without buying a subscription to my Only Bears channel didn’t mean anything.  

Especially that.  

And even if he was, it could never, ever work. I couldn’t possibly stay in character forever. And there was no way I planned to reveal my real identity to anyone in this building. 

Why are you so insistent on protecting who you “really” are? My bear countered with an argument I hadn’t readied myself for. Ellie is more of an act than Synamon Honey… 

Groaning inwardly, I cleared my thoughts by taking a deep breath. My bear had obviously been talking to Jen, who insisted I needed to go on dates as Ellie—instead of keeping every single man on earth at screen’s length.  

“Redheaded Stepchild, will you please welcome Only Bears sin-sation Synamon Honey to the stage!” 

The crowd went absolutely wild as the spotlight trained on me. The music kicked in, the first slow and sultry notes of “Baby, I’m Electric.” I’d surveyed the Stepchild when I arrived, so I knew this place was huge, but I hadn’t quite registered what that would mean when it was packed with fans, shoulder to shoulder, screaming my name. With the only lights in the room coming from the illuminated cell phones and the spotlight trained on me, it was suddenly enormous, and also completely isolating at the same time.  

My skin felt hot and tight and I willed my bear to stay inside… 

“Synamon! Syn! Honey!” Men were calling out my name, telling me how gorgeous I was. Declaring their undying love for me. 

“Let me claim you, baby!” another one called out, earning hoots and hollers from everyone around him. 

I blew a kiss to the crowd as I started my act. I’d practiced dozens of times, but the stage was so much bigger than the tiny spare bedroom I usually filmed in. Not that I ever let anyone see that room, claiming it was my junk room. But now, I’d suddenly let everyone in.  

As the guitar kicked in, the terror faded away and I felt something I’d never felt before. 

Liberated. 

On this stage, I was Synamon Honey. Ellie wasn’t even part of the equation. The Redheaded Stepchild was my universe, and everyone in it was madly in love with me. I was their queen. Instead of letting that realization scare the shit out of me, I leaned into it and gave my fans the best performance of my life. 

But between you and me, I have another secret: it wasn’t a performance at all. This was me. I was Synamon Honey.  

My bear was right—uptight Ellie was an act.  

A trauma response.  

A security blanket. 

And if I wasn’t careful, I could get addicted to this feeling of absolute freedom. 

The song came to an end, welcoming another round of thunderous applause and more proposals for marriage and mating. That was when I spotted Brad, standing in the middle of the crowd, a good head above most of the others, glowing like he had his own personal spotlight shining on him. A chill went down my spine as everything, everyone else faded away. 

A hand on my shoulder startled me back to reality. “You can head backstage now, Ms. Honey,” the emcee said softly, almost apologetically. 

Jen waited for me on the side of the stage with a fuzzy robe and a dozen roses.  

“Girl,” she said emphatically. “That was in-fucking-credible. I swear to the moon something came over you.” 

“I know, it was crazy.” My voice didn’t even feel like it belonged to me, echoing as the cheers, the pleas for my return rang in my ears. My body shook with pure adrenaline. “It was such a rush.” 

“Think you might want to do it again?” Jen waggled her brows at me hopefully. “Because the stage manager is interested in booking you on a regular basis. Like, creating a night around you. I know it seems like we’re in the middle of nowhere, but this place is shifter central. It’s perfect. He says they’ve never sold out an event so fast.” 

It was on the tip of my tongue to say yes. A million times yes. Book me until my boobs started to sag and no man, shifter, human, or otherwise, was interested in looking at my ass ever again.  

But instead, practical Ellie entered the chat.  

“Let’s see how I feel after the night is over.” 

Jen groaned as she opened the door of my dressing room. She stood in front of it, crossing her arms once again, not so much in manager mode. It was big sisterly, sick of her best friend’s shit mode. 

“Synamon Honey,” she said my name like she was about to ground me for two weeks. “You were straight fire on that stage. Seriously, you’re a natural. Every single person in that crowd was in absolute awe of not only your performance but your presence. I’ve never felt such raw energy before. Every man out there wantsto fuck you. And the ladies who didn’t want to fuck you? They want to be you.” 

I scoffed. “How excited will they be if they come see it every week? Or month, or whatever.” 

“This isn’t whatever.” Jen rolled her eyes. “How many subscribers do you have?” 

“Like, six hundred thousand?” The number went up every day, and honestly? I was a little embarrassed to say it out loud. It felt like bragging.  

My bear rolled her eyes, knowing full well that Synamon Honey owned that number. 

“Your retention rate month-to-month?”  

“Ninety-eight percent.”  

Jen softened. “Look, I’m not talking to you as your manager. This is your best friend speaking.” She grasped my shoulders. “I saw something in you tonight that I’ve never seen before. Girl, you’re a star. This can be so much bigger than Only Bears, if you let it. Stop holding yourself back.” 

There were so many excuses on the tip of my tongue right now, but they were dead on arrival. It wasn’t just that Jen was right—I felt different. I could blame it on the adrenaline, the sold-out crowd, or the absolute adoration was usually reserved for the comment section. But I loved being Synamon Honey. Even if I knew it couldn’t last forever. I needed to take advantage of this opportunity. 

“Okay.” The word came out softly, like I hadn’t just made the biggest declaration of my life.  

Jen’s face lit up, and she was just about to pounce on me with a hug. I held up my hand and added, “but let’s see how I do with the meet and greet line before we commit to everything.” 

Some of that glow faded. “Seriously, just channel whatever you did on that stage and they’ll all be eating out of your hand.” 

The butterflies started doing gymnastics in my belly when I found Brad waiting for us on the other side of the door.  

“Ready?” he asked, all business.  

I nodded, swallowing an unexpected pang of disappointment. Maybe what had happened when he introduced himself and then onstage was simply lightning in a bottle, something that I couldn’t easily create. The practical Ellie side of me was relieved I hadn’t agreed to those return engagements yet. 

A swarm of mostly men and a few women waited for me in the side bar room that had become my meet and greet area. Jen got right to work, checking tickets, collecting money, and sending people over to me. 

Brad stood close to the table, his gaze surveying the line. 

“You were really great up there,” the first man said as he slid his Synamon Honey calendar across the table for me to sign. “I drove all the way from Missoula to see you.” 

“Wow, thank you so much. I hope you have a safe trip home,” I said as I signed it. 

“Can I take a picture with you?” the next guy asked hopefully. 

I glanced at Jen, who nodded. 

“Sure.” I smiled and leaned forward.  

The man put his head close to mine and pressed the button on the screen. “Told you I’d meet her. Synamon, can you say hi to my buddy—” 

“You asked for a picture.” Suddenly, Brad was right there and every word was tipped with a growl.  

“Sorry, man.” The guy stopped the video. “Can I still get the picture?” 

“No,” Brad said at the same time I said, “Yes.”  

My fan smirked at my bodyguard as we took the selfie. 

Brad glowered as the man walked away. 

“They paid a lot of money,” I whispered, sounding too much like Ellie for my own comfort. 

“They need to respect your boundaries.” He crossed his arms, and it had a completely different effect than when Jen did it. Less scold, more tear some heads off.  

“Will you sign my arm?” the next guy asked as he rolled up his sleeve. 

“Sweet moon, do you have a tattoo of me?” It was done in pinup style, with a peach cobbler. 

“Yes.” His cheeks pinked. “I just couldn’t get enough of that video, so I wanted to have a piece of it with me everywhere I go.” 

“I don’t know what to say. I’m so flattered.” I leaned forward, emblazoned my name on the bare skin below the tat, and added a little crescent moon for flourish. 

Another confession—I was apparently full of them tonight—this signing had me floating on cloud freaking nine. My lives, videos, and posts got countless comments gushing about my performance, but it was easy to discount them when I was home by myself. But here, in person, I felt nothing but love.  

What a rush. 

“Hi—” I was just about to ask the next fan’s name when Brad stepped in and put his big, strong hand on my bare shoulder.  

“We need to go. Now.”