A Teddy Bear for Prince (Omegas of

Animals 11) MM Shifter Mpreg Romance

Lorelei M. Hart
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A Teddy Bear for Prince
Copyright 2023 Lorelei M. Hart
Digital ISBN: 978-1-68361-913-0
Print ISBN: 978-1-68361-914-7

Cover design by Fantasia Frog Designs

Published by Decadent Publishing LLC
Table of Contents

Omegas of Animals Series

Omegas of Animals SD (with Wendy Rathbone)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Epilogue
An Excerpt from A Bear Wolf for Joel
Chapter One
Chapter Two
About the Author
Growing up in foster care, bear-shifter Teddy never knew he had any family, much less a cousin only one state away. When he
gets the news, he jumps in his car without a second thought. Maybe this is the family connection he’s been longing for all his
life. He meets his cousin and his mate at Animals for the first time and things go better than expected, so he decides to stay in
the desert for a while.

Lion shifter Prince was going to be a a rock star. His parents decided that before he was born, going so far as to name him after
their favorite musician. The only problem…he has less talent than he has desire to devote his life to music, and his desire is
none. Now Prince has years of education in something he not only doesn’t love but isn’t good at, a pile of student debt, and no
real direction in his life. At least his grandfather loves and accepts him for who he is and gives him a job at his B&B.

When he is asked to attend an animal rescue meeting at the famous Animals on his grandfather’s behalf, he expects to go, be
bored, then stick around for a little club action. The last thing he expects is to scent his mate…a mate who is no longer on the
premises. Now what?

A Teddy Bear for Prince is a sweet with knotty heat MM shifter mpreg romance featuring an omega lion shifter determined
to be his own man, a bear shifter looking for family and finding so much more, an adorable grandfather, and oh-so many
cats, the night at Animals that changes everything, Karma doing what Karma does best, a true love, fated mates, a sweet
baby, some familiar faces from the Omegas of Animals universe, and a guaranteed HEA. Each book in this series can be
read as a standalone. If you like your alphas hawt, your omegas strong, and your mpreg with heart, download your copy
today.
 Omegas of Animals Series
Papa Bear for Darius
A Mate for Hudson
A Family for Cooper
Wood You Be Mine’
A Hoard for Flame
A Den for Finley
A Guy for Rye
A Deer for Dion
A Bunny for Bruce
A Bear Wolf for Joel
A Teddy Bear for Prince

Omegas of Animals SD (with Wendy Rathbone)

The Wolf and Bear’s Dragon Omega
The Red Panda and His Mates
The Dragon, the Lion, and Their Unicorn Omega
The Otter, the Tiger, and Their Wolf Omega
The Chef, the Wolf, and their Platypus Omega
The Skunk, the Tibetan Fox, and Their Wolf Omega
The Dragon and Dolphin’s Bear Omega
The Bunny, The Wolf, and Their Kangaroo Omega
The Owl, the Zebra, and Their Bear Omega
A Teddy Bear for Prince
Omegas of Animals

By
Lorelei M. Hart
 Chapter One
Teddy
Shifter DNA was a thing. Who knew? Certainly not me—until very recently.
Growing up in foster care, I had no memories of life before I was separated from my birth family and didn’t even know
about my “specialness” until I shifted into a bear at thirteen. Unlike many kids in the system, I had been lucky to land, after a
few painful missteps, with a mom and dad who wanted me forever, even when they came down for breakfast one day to find a
bear sitting on the floor in front of the open refrigerator, helping himself to everything. I don’t know what anyone else would
have done, but they waited while I shifted back and then helped me research to figure out what happened.
Parents who accepted me and would have adopted me could they have afforded it—but who loved me every bit as much
as they would have a child of their own had they been able to have one. I’d hit the jackpot after rolling snake eyes.
Two blissful years with them ended in a car accident that took both of their lives and left me clinging to mine. If I hadn’t
been a shifter, I probably would have died, too, and sometimes in the remaining years of foster care, I wished I’d gone with
them. One horror show of a home after another. The last place was more of a group home for delinquents, run by abusive
adults, and at sixteen I ran away, preferring to live on the street to being beaten on the regular with a belt.
Not that I was a bad kid; usually I got in trouble for sneaking out to shift. If they’d seen it happen, they’d probably have
shot me. There was, after all, a bear head mounted on the wall.
The first few years were tough, especially being underage and having to find work without a legitimate address.
Kindhearted people who wanted to help would most likely report me so I could be tossed back into the system. I’d learned that
the hard way. But a fake ID helped. As did the corner of a garage I managed to rent from someone not so kind but who didn’t
give a damn and wanted the money. Finally after saving every penny I could, I got a promotion from my retail job at the big-box
store to assistant department manager and rented my own studio apartment.
Should have been good. Would have been okay, actually, if I’d never had that taste of what family felt like. Or if there had
been any connections left when they were gone. My late, kind foster parents had been only children whose parents were
already passed away, so once I’d lost them, I’d lost just about everything good. I stopped right in the middle of men’s
underwear and socks to pull out my wallet and look at the picture that was my sole memento. I’d gone straight from the hospital
to the next foster, my belongings packed in the traditional black garbage bag, so I hadn’t even had a chance to go home and look
around one more time. Get the photo album they’d begun of our little family. A jar of Mom’s blackberry jam for the road…
Blinking hard, I focused on the picture of the three of us taken at one of those cheesy mall studios. There were bigger pictures.
One over the mantel, another on my bedside table, but since I hadn’t been able to go back to the house, all I had was the
creased wallet size to remind me of better times. Maybe that they even were possible.
I tucked the picture away and went to help one of my sales people with a customer who was insisting that the large pair of
men’s speedo-style underwear was mismarked because he “always” wore that size. Barnaby was standing tall under the
onslaught, but what could he say? That the customer needed to be over in big and tall? Nothing wrong with that, but it would
make it possible for him to find underwear in a style and size that he could not only get on but breathe in.
But that’s why they paid me the big bucks. Two dollars per hour over state minimum wage to keep things running smoothly
in my little kingdom of three-packs of boxers and six-packs of tube socks. “Excuse me, sir, may I help you?”
“Are you the manager?” No, what my name tag stating Asst. Mgr. means is king of boxer-briefs.
“Yes, I am the manager on duty. Barnaby, if you’d like to go unbox the items warehouse brought up, I’ll help Mr….

“Smith. Jack Smith.” While Barnaby beat feet for the other side of the department, I stuck out my hand and shook Mr.
Smith’s. If that was his name. Note to self: They don’t pay me enough to touch the customer’s sweaty, sticky hands. Even if my
foster dad did say you should always shake when meeting someone new. I did it more as a tribute to Dad, but even he would
have excused me this time.
“Now, Mr. Smith. I see you’re looking at the sale underwear. While I won’t say they aren’t good—because all of our items
are—you strike me as a man who likes his underwear comfortable as well as a good quality.”
“Th-that’s what I was trying to tell that fellow. I’m so glad they sent over someone who knows about these things.”
I wanted to tell him Barnaby knew a hundred times more than he did about “these things,” but that was not what I was paid
to do. My job was to make sure we sold things and that the customer left happy. If I managed to rescue my employees at the
same time, at least nobody would fire me for it. “Mr. Smith…can I call you Jack?”
“Yes,” he replied. “And you’re Theodore.”
“Correct.” Only my friends could call me Teddy. “So, Jack, come with me and we’ll find you the very best we have to
offer.”
An hour later, the discount three-pack that would have cut him in half if he’d managed to even get them on had been
replaced with a cart half filled with individually tagged boxer briefs and socks, all in the correct size, and none of which were
on sale. I walked him to the front and handed him over to one of the self-checkout assistants so he wouldn’t end up just walking
away after all my hard work.
It was anything but a dream job, but if I was careful, I could pay my bills and still have eating money. And since it was
lunchtime and I needed a break badly, I headed for the employee breakroom and got my lunch out of my locker. One of the ways
I could manage to eat was by brown-bagging it. Which was healthier anyway. Two of the stockers from the grocery side of the
store were gobbling burgers and fries from the fast-food place at the front of the store and gossiping about something. I didn’t
try to listen, but their burgers smelled much better than my PB&J, so my attention was a bit on them anyway. My bear thought
we didn’t get nearly enough animal protein in our diet, but I did the best I could. On my next day off, we’d take a trip out of
town and he could do a little hunting for himself.
I was trying not to pay attention to my bear’s memories of a particularly gruesome hunting success when the words of one
of the burger eaters, the one with the triple patty/triple cheese in front of him, broke into my thoughts. “DNA. That’s how they
got the killer.”
“You mean he allowed his own DNA to be out there for anyone to find? I know it was a cold case but that sounds pretty
dumb.”
Triple-burger guy scoffed. “Of course it would be. Do you live under a rock? That’s almost never how it works. Some
relative did it, and there were enough similarities that they were able to track back to him. Cool, huh?”
They went on talking but their words faded as the wheels in my mind spun. DNA. Would it be possible for me to find my
birth family that way? Maybe learn something about where I came from? If humans were into banking DNA, were shifters? I
yanked out my phone and brought up the shifter-exclusive search engine I’d managed to find nearly by accident. Sure enough, I
found SDNA, which stood for exactly what you’d imagine, and ordered a test. If there was anyone out there who shared my
genetics closely enough to be family, I was going to try to reach them. Maybe my parents hadn’t wanted me, but maybe a sibling
or someone would.
Maybe I could get some answers.
Or closure as the humans called it.
I waited for the results to come in.
 Chapter Two
Prince
“Are you sure you want to get rid of all of these?” The man behind the counter looked at the five guitars, one cello, one
bass, and two keyboards I’d brought in. “These aren’t junk.”
That much I knew. My parents had decided from the moment the little stick showed two lines that their child was going to
be a musician just like they were. It didn’t matter what I wanted or where my skills lay; I was going to make my living
performing music. Full stop.
“Yeah, all of them. I needed them for college.” And now that it was done, I needed to get rid of them to be able to move
across the country and away from all this noise.
“And they are all yours. You didn’t steal them.”
I should’ve been offended, but I wasn’t. People who had this kind of collection usually used them rather than selling them
to a shady guy in a shop with bars on the windows.
“If you look, you’ll see my name either directly on the instruments or on the cases. For some of them, both.”
He picked up my cello and looked both it and the case over. “Sorry. All I see on here is Prince. I don’t even know what
school that is.”
I reached in my back pocket and pulled out my wallet, fished out my ID, and handed it to him. Even after all these years, it
was still embarrassing to admit that my real name was Prince, and it was 1000 percent after the musician my parents wanted
me to walk in the footsteps of.
“Yikes.” At least he didn’t pretend it was cool like most people attempted to do. “Sorry, man. Listen, I’ll be real with you.
You have some top-quality instruments here, and I can’t afford top-quality prices. Not with my clientele. Have you thought
about listing them separately?”
“I’m moving tomorrow, and I could use the cash.”
“And you can’t bring them with you?”
I had to admit the guy was far less scummy than the storefront would suggest.
“I don’t want to. This was my parents’ dream, not mine.” A dream they forced on me as a kid and one I allowed them to
force on me later. I’d been foolish enough to think that going to college for something I hated was better than not being able to
go at all.
When they refused to fill out my FAFSA without my major being music, I caved. In hindsight, I should have taken time off
before going to school so I could do the paperwork without them. Lesson learned.
“If you’re sure. Remember, you have thirty days to pay it back if you change your mind.”
“Thanks.” I wouldn’t be back, but his kindness at least had me feeling better about the amount of money he gave me.
He was right. They were worth a lot more. My parents made sure I had the best instruments, the best teachers, and the best
opportunities. They were sure I wouldn’t even need to go to college, that I’d be signed before I graduated high school and be
living the future they laid out for me. Never mind that I didn’t enjoy it, that I had to work twice as hard as anyone else to be
mediocre, and, most importantly, they never once asked me what I wanted.
I thanked him, took my cash, and left the pawnshop.
“Good riddance.”
I went to my apartment, the one I had for two more days. There was still a lot to do before I left. My landlord was kind of
a dick and, if there was so much as a speck of dust, I was going to be losing my security deposit. I needed every dollar.
Between my student loans and my roommate breaking their part of the lease, I was down to my last fifty bucks in the bank and
the money I got for pawning the instruments. That would have to get me by until I started my new job.
I didn’t even know how much it would pay, if anything. But with my nearly useless music degree, I hadn’t found anything
better. And, trust me, I tried. I applied to anything and everything that had the remotest possibility of being a decent fit.
Crickets. My efforts were met with crickets.
And the job I had at the grocery store wasn’t cutting it. Once they began limiting hours and requiring complete availability.
I was in a lose-lose situation.
When I finally broke down and called my grandfather, needing someone who wasn’t my parents to vent to, he listened and
listened, not once interrupting me as I babbled on about how horrible everything was and how my world was crashing down on
me. Unlike my parents, my grandfather had always seen me—truly seen me for who I was, not the person I might someday be if
only I had the right training and right connections.
He was very unlike most of the lions in our pride, which was probably why he moved to the desert and opened his B&B.
My parents were still mad at him for the move, said it was showing a lack of support for both the family and pride to sell his
place and go.
What they meant was that they missed being able to use his property to host guests and hunt openly.
 “Come here, Prince. I have a room for you, and there is plenty of work to be done around the place. I’m not getting any
younger, you know.”
No one looking at my grandfather would consider him an old man. He was spry and energetic and looked like he could be
my father’s brother. But I didn’t argue with him. He was only saying that to make me feel comfortable enough to accept the job.
And I did accept it, which was why I needed to spend the next two days cleaning like my life depended on it. While my
life didn’t, my wallet sure did.
 Chapter Three
Teddy
The DNA came back to show I was 100 percent shifter. I’d never considered otherwise, didn’t know it was possible to be
mixed, but it was still good to know. My bear never reacted to any of it until I got the list of relatives with partial DNA.
Although my parents were not on the family tree I was directed to, and I had no known siblings, what I did have were cousins.
First cousins, second, third. Once, twice removed, and more.
I was sitting on the bed in my tiny studio apartment, a microwaved frozen dinner beside me when the message came in, and
I never took another bite. The list was long, the names varied, and unlike the rules I understood for human ancestor records,
when I clicked on them, I got useful information like last known address and even phone number in some cases. How…where
were they all when I was trapped in the system? For a moment, elation was replaced with rage. I’d been a little kid, not sure
quite how young, and when I ran away I couldn’t exactly go back and ask for my records. I’d been young, scared, and I’d
always heard that it would be next to impossible to get hold of them anyway. Now, I wondered if that was true or just one of
the things kids trapped in a difficult situation said.
I could try now, but it didn’t matter because I had a whole different agenda. I’d found my people and could ask them all my
questions in person. Messing around with the site, I found a map function connected to the family tree. When activated, it could
place all the names in the location, if known, on any particular date. Living people were green, deceased in a subtle gray. They
were scattered everywhere but thicker in the Pacific Northwest. And then I spotted one the next state over. Driving distance.
Warren Ursa. Most of them were Ursas. Was I an Ursa, really? Questions multiplied. What was my name?
I called in to work and said I’d tested positive for a certain virus and needed a week off. Company policy meant that was
the only thing they couldn’t argue with me about. Next, I packed a duffel and locked my door behind me. There was a phone
number on the map, and an internet search showed it was for a club called Animals. I’d heard of it. Every shifter had. It was
the premier nightclub for shifters, although it had an open-door policy for other paranormals and even garden-variety humans.
Warren must work there.
He was a first cousin, according to DNA. Older than me but as close as anyone could be in terms of genetics. Our fathers
or mothers must be siblings. I would ask him. Three hundred miles away, give or take…but it felt like forever driving there. I’d
been in the Las Vegas area my whole remembered life. And I had so many cousins, aunts, and uncles, too, it seemed. Did none
of them care about me?
The Mike O’Callaghan-Pat Tillman Memorial Bridge arched into the sky, a modern replacement for driving directly
across Hoover Dam, a pleasure I’d never had since the the new bridge opened before I had a car to drive. But the newer route
had a magic about it, and I welcomed any opportunity to cross.
I probably should have called ahead, let my cousin know I was coming, but with so little information about how I’d ended
up in the system—defined as no information—I wasn’t sure what kind of welcome I could look forward to. The best course of
action, as I saw it for the moment, was just to show up and see how things went.
And hope they went well. I’d definitely been a little kid last time any of them saw me, not more than three, maybe less. On
the other side of the bridge, I was making good time on my drive to Animals. In fact, I was going about thirty miles an hour
over the speed limit, desperate for answers that I could finally get. I eased up on the gas pedal and turned on some music. Soft
jazz to drive by. If I got pulled over for speeding, it would just take me longer to get where I was going.
I drove straight through, arriving in the Superstition Mountains just in time for a spectacular sunset, and GPS directed me
onto a smaller road that wound its way between the towering cliffs made even redder against the darkening sky. A sign directed
guests to the main parking area, which was empty this early in the evening. Most nightclubs didn’t open until nine or later, or so
I understood, but a second sign pointed to the employee parking, so I continued on along the road that climbed up and ended in
an open space behind a building that looked almost like part of the cliff.
As I got out of the car, the back door opened and a woman stepped out. She waited there until I reached her then looked me
up and down. “Well, you’re not one of our employees.”
“No.”
She didn’t say anything else, and I felt a little like a kid being studied by a teacher.
“I’m looking for Warren.”
“Oh?” A small smile lifted the corners of her lips, reaching her eyes. “I should have known. You must be one of the
cousins.”
“Why do you think that?” She was right, but…
“Because you look a whole lot like them. And you just keep turning up here. Come on in and we’ll find him. I’m Karma by
the way.”
“Teddy.”
I looked like them? I could meet other people who would say, Hey, you’re an Ursa for sure. I’d know you anywhere. I
followed the woman into a big kitchen where people bustled around getting everything ready for the evening. It smelled so
good in there, my stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
The woman turned around. “Hungry?”
I clapped a hand to my belly. “Oh, did you hear that?”
“Not exactly. But I know you bears.” She waved a man in chef’s whites over and gave him instructions to bring food to the
office then started off again. We left the kitchen and entered what must be the main club floor. With the overhead lights on, I
could see into every corner, and it was extremely well maintained, with conversation pits, cocktail tables, and a dance floor. A
stage held the front of the room, instruments already set up for the evening, and a DJ booth overlooked the floor. I didn’t have
time to see more because Karma was entering a hallway, and I had to follow or lose sight of her. “Just down this way.” She
opened one of the doors and stepped inside. “Warren, your cousin Teddy is here.”
“No he’s not.”
I stopped right in the doorway, frozen at his words. He didn’t want me here. But then I caught sight of him, rising from
behind the desk, coming toward me, and stopping right in front of me.
“I’m Teddy, and I believe we are related.”
“Oh gods.” His arms came around me and he gathered me into a literal bear hug. A memory lit in my mind. I knew what
this felt like. I knew… “Karma, he’s alive.” He pulled back and looked at me. “You look just like Uncle Evan. We looked
everywhere for you. I was a teenager, but I helped. We thought you were gone, too. Where were you all this time?”
There was so much here to unpack.
We sat around the small conference table in the office, eating all the apps that a server brought, along with sparkling water,
and sharing what happened the past couple of decades. My parents had disappeared when I was two. And so had I…and that
was all they knew. All those cousins, at least those Warren’s age and older, aunts and uncles, grandparents…they’d hunted for
us.
“Last we knew, you were all camping in Washington not far from some of the family lands. There was a sudden downpour
and a flood, and your camp was washed away.” Warren took a long drink of water and leaned back in his chair. “You were all
gone.”
“Do you think there’s any chance my folks are still… I mean, could they have survived? You didn’t find their bodies.”
Warren shook his head, sadness rolling off him in waves. “Sorry, Teddy, we believe they were washed into the river and
then probably out to sea. Because if they had lived, they would never have stopped looking for you. Not ever. You were the
light of their lives.”
I studied the tabletop in front of me, unable to meet his gaze and see the pity there. “I don’t have any memories of them, you
know. Not one. And I was always afraid that they just didn’t want me. Foster care was mostly not the greatest.” And then I did
lift my eyes, but I saw not a bit of pity.
Just grief. “Teddy, I am so sorry we didn’t find you. We thought…we assumed…and we did look. But now that we’ve
found you, everyone will want to know. They’ll come visit. How long can you stay?”
“I planned on a week. I’m going to stay in a motel.”
“You are very welcome to stay with us,” Karma protested. “We have plenty of room.”
“I would rather not impose, but I’ll come every day if you don’t mind. I want to hear all about our family. Teddy is my real
name, right?”
“Yes,” Warren said.
“What is my last?”
“Ursa. Our dads were brothers.”
“I guess I knew my first name, but not the last if I was two. So the social services people had to make one up.” But from
now on, I’d be Ursa. How I’d make that work in the work world and stuff, I’d figure out. “Now, I’m going to head for a motel.
It’s been a long and emotional day.”
But so, so good.
 Chapter Four
Prince
I packed my beater with everything that I was bringing, ready to be out of the city and beginning my new life. I wasn’t silly
enough to believe that all would be right with my world just because I was someplace new. It wouldn’t be, but it was the start
of truly breaking free and becoming the person I was meant to be and not the one I was expected to become.
Thankfully, I’d managed to sell or otherwise get rid of almost all of my bigger items. It hadn’t been easy. They weren’t top
of the line when new, but giving them away was better financially than paying someone to get rid of it.
I climbed in my car, right near midnight, having stayed in my apartment until the very last second. I wasn’t even sure why.
Maybe because I paid so much for it after my roomie left that it felt like I had to, or maybe it was fear over the big changes
coming in my life. Probably a mixture of both.
After waiting far too long, I’d finally told my parents about my plans the night before. They did not take it well, my father
going so far as to say, “We sacrificed everything for you, and you are throwing it away.” I had no patience with that, and they
knew it. It wasn’t as if I’d kept quiet all my life. They knew where I stood and that I was unhappy. They simply did not care,
and that was on them, not me.
I glanced at my phone one more time, making sure I had the right directions in my head for the first day, and then powered
it down. My car battery wasn’t strong enough to be drawing from it all day, not even something as small as a phone, and I
wasn’t planning to stop at a hotel for the night. If I got really tired, I’d pull off into a truck stop and sleep in the car. No way
was I wasting what little money I had on a hotel.
My lion had been itching to break free for days, and being trapped in the car wasn’t doing him any good. We’d be able to
run freely once we got to our destination, but until then, it was going to be a power struggle between the two of us. It was
probably for the best. At least holding him at bay kept me from falling asleep.
I held off stopping for food and a restroom break as long as I could, but when the gas tank drained to nothing and my
stomach was growling, I pulled into a gas station that catered to truckers. I turned on my phone and left it on the seat to power
up as I filled the tank. When I came back in to move the car to the side for the next person, the thing was exploding.
Sure enough, most of them were from my parents.
You really did it.
Why are you so selfish?
Call us.
We told you to call us.
You ungrateful brat.
Then there was one message from my landlord. Got your keys. Cursory inspection looks good.
That was it. Nothing more, like when I might get my money back. At least he wasn’t making up random broken things that
needed doing. That was something.
I parked the car and got out to stretch my legs and then go in and grab a coffee when it hit me. My grandfather hadn’t called
at all. That meant either my parents were putting the full brunt of the onus on me, or he was trying to protect me from their
anger.
After grabbing a coffee, I hit the call button. My grandfather picked up on the first ring.
“Are you here yet?” He chuckled.
“Yep. And you aren’t even hugging me.” That earned me some more laughter. “I just wanted you to know that everything
went well with moving out, and I’m about 400 miles from you. I should be there before dinner.”
“Excellent. You can tell me what part of your parents are blaming me for all that is wrong with the world fits in with
everything went well over roasted chicken and potatoes.”
The guilt hit hard. The only thing that had me considering not accepting the offer was exactly this: my parents being
asshats.
“I was hoping they left you alone. Sorry, Pop-Pop.”
“No sorry to it. They can die mad about it. I’m thrilled you are coming. Be safe.”
I pulled in probably sooner than I should have, my foot getting a bit heavy once I hit the desert road. The B&B was just as
I remembered it. Welcoming, quaint, and full of cats. Oh-so many cats.
“I see there are new members of your family.” I hugged Pop-Pop. “I’m glad there’s still room for me.”
“Always. Even if your cat is the size of all of my babies put together. Do you want to see your room first or go for a run?”
He patted my shoulder. “Never mind. Your lion is so close—let’s go for a run.”
We went out back to his shifting shed and stripped off our clothing, leaving it on the shelf. I asked him once why he had a
separate place like that, and he told me it was to keep his fur babies from sleeping on his clothes. And fair enough, except over
the years, he added a cat door for them to be able to come into the shed. For a big fierce lion, Pop-Pop was a softy for those
cats. They were his owner far more than he was theirs.
He shifted first, and I followed. His beast showed me the property lines, like he did every time, and then we went hunting.
My lion wasn’t a huge fan of most of the local critters, but he loved to hunt and enjoyed the time with our family, the side who
liked us for us.
 Chapter Five
Teddy
It was way too easy to get comfortable at Animals. Warren and Karma and their staff were so welcoming, and I kept
getting calls from cousins I knew only as dots on that family tree map thingy. Apparently they had a family reunion planned in a
couple of months and all wanted to make sure I was coming. Heady stuff for a guy who grew up the way I had. The motel was
comfortable and not too far away, but I was getting up every morning and hurrying over to see what I could do to help.
My cousin’s mate, Karma, was the woman who had brought me in to meet him, and while she was not a shifter and nobody
would admit she was anything else, nobody could meet her and not know she was something more. Everyone here loved her,
and she kept things running smoothly. Always a project in mind, and her personality was such that everyone wanted to help.
And when I arrived on this particular day, it was to find Karma and a few members of her staff getting ready for a fundraiser
for a local animal rescue. Before I knew it, I was way up on a ladder hanging one side of a banner announcing the event while
she stood below directing me to fasten it, “Just a little higher.”
We only had a certain window to do things on the actual club floor, but a lot of preparation for the event took place behind
closed doors in the VIP room where we were building the brochure that would be handed out at the event to each of the
attendees. And this was super fun. I had a couple of cousins working in security, as it turned out. They were away, but I looked
forward to getting to know them on their return.
I was working entirely on a voluntary basis, but I could definitely see why people enjoyed working for real here at
Animals. There was a cheerful spirit of cooperation here led by Karma and backed by my cousin, Warren the customers
seemed to pick up on. I’d never been big into clubs because I wasn’t crazy about the chaotic atmosphere and meat-market
mentality the Vegas shifter clubs I’d visited offered, but I saw none of that here.
What was different was the anyone-can-come, feel-free-to-be-yourself feeling in the room when it was open. Shifters
could be whatever they were as long as they didn’t bother anyone else or try to eat them. There was a blood bar for vamps I’d
been told was new and a cauldron for the witches’ brew. One rule that was posted in big letters was: No Brooms Allowed.
Apparently some of the witches had a bit too much brew and flew while intoxicated, causing some expensive damage.
They could fly outside, though, somewhere. “Want to take a break?” asked a young bear shifter who I was fairly sure I was
not related to. I thought his name was Howard. “We can go for a run and stretch our paws.”
“I don’t want to skip out if I’m needed.” I looked around for Karma, but the bear waved away my concerns.
“We’re good. She had to go take care of something in the office and won’t be back for an hour or so. Don’t you want a
run?”
My bear was ready to force his way out at the very idea. “I do. So, where do we go?”
“Follow me.” He headed through the kitchen and out to where I’d parked again. “Just on the other side of the lot.”
“That’s not a cliff, Howard?” It sure looked like one. A bench sat right near the edge, and I’d seen people sitting there
earlier. Also, I wanted to confirm I had his name right without asking because I’d met so many people, I was having a hard time
keeping all the names straight.
“Oh, yeah, it’s a cliff, but there’s a trail. It’s where the employees and family and friends can let off steam and sometimes
customers.” I must have the name right, since he didn’t correct me.
“Is this where the witches fly?”
He snorted. “On occasion, when they agree to behave. Mostly just shifters.” He began to remove his clothes and set them
on another bench a distance away from the drop, so I followed suit and let my bear out. I didn’t see the trail until I was right on
the edge of the cliff, and it was lucky I didn’t have a fear of heights because it was steep, a bit narrowish, and had no railing.
We loped down to the bottom and Howard took off across the valley floor. It was amazing to stretch out and run like this, just to
be free. In the past, I’d always been furtive and stuck close to trees to avoid being seen, but judging from how my new friend
was behaving, it was a nonissue here. And it was magic. We ran past cacti and low shrubs and a lot of plants I had no names
for, hawks flew overhead, their cries echoing, and it was the best run I’d ever had.
Pure magic.
I would have gone all day, but Howard finally veered around and headed back. We needed to get to our task again, but it
cheered me and made my bear happier than I’d ever known him to be—we could do this again anytime.
At least until we went home, but I didn’t want to think about that.
When we rejoined the work team, Karma gave me a wink. “How was your run?”
I started to ask how she knew but then realized there were others out there, too, and Karma always seemed to know
everything. “It was great. Best vacation of my life, this week.”
“You should come to the event,” she said. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”
I looked around at the beautiful decorations the staff was putting together, the programs they were stacking in boxes, and
everything else. “Thank you, but fancy highbrow things aren’t for me.”
She shrugged. “Think about it. I believe you should come.”
 Chapter Six
Prince
“Get dressed.” Pop-Pop handed me a cup of coffee. “We have places to go and people to see.”
The B&B was closed for a week. My grandfather regularly blocked off chunks of time for no reason other than he “wanted
to still love the place.” I was glad he wasn’t working round the clock like he once did. It made my transition here easier as
well.
“People? Can’t we just stay here with Kit and Kat?” I whined and took a sip of my coffee. Kit and Kat being his two fur
babies.
“Trust me.” He pointed toward my room. “Now hurry. Time is a ticking.”
I had no idea where Pop-Pop wanted to take me and threw on jeans and a T-shirt. If he wanted business casual, he’d have
said. At least, that was the assumption I rolled with. I downed the coffee and met him in the kitchen where he was putting down
fresh water for the cats and promising them he’d be home soon with a surprise for them.
“Gonna tell me where we are going?”
“What’s the fun in that?” He shook his keys. “Let’s get out of here.”
A half hour later, we pulled into the local animal rescue.
“Pop-Pop.”
My grandfather wasn’t going to leave this place empty-handed. It was how he, at one point, had five cats. He had a habit of
adopting the older cats that no one wanted. It was great for them. He truly gave them their best life. But it was hard on him
because they rarely lived but a handful of years after he adopted them.
“Please tell me we aren’t here to get another cat.”
“I won’t.” He popped open his door. “Let’s go.”
I met him at my side of the car, and we walked together. “You say you won’t, and yet we are going inside.”
“I said I wouldn’t tell you. That’s not the same thing.”
Once inside, we were greeted by someone behind a long counter. She showed us the different sign-in sheets depending on
why we were there. It saddened me how many names were on the list for surrendering cats. I was sure they weren’t all pets
being brought in, but lost pets weren’t a happier story, in my opinion.
Pop-Pop signed up as an interested adopter. “I saw on your social media that a new family came in.”
“We do, and we’d really like them to leave together,” she said, only half paying attention. She changed her tune when he
said he’d like to meet the three cats.
“Three, Pop-Pop?” I whispered as she went to grab their paperwork. “We are here to see three cats?”
“They were found in a garage fire. They need a good life,” was all he said about that.
She took us to the visitor room and brought all three in. They were the scraggliest bunch I’d ever seen. One was missing
part of an ear, the other a part of their tail, and the third a patch of fur. Nothing about them shouted they would win any cute cat
contest except…they were the cutest things I’d ever seen.
“They are a tad skittish, so don’t feel bad if they ignore you—”
All three of them were climbing on my grandfather before she finished the sentence.
“Or not.” She beamed. “I’ll give you some time with them to decide. I need to go make a phone call confirming some
details for our annual fundraiser, but Sarai will be at the counter if you need any help.”
“Fundraiser?” Pop-Pop asked, his eyes on her even as he was giving the cats the attention they were begging for.
“Yes. Animals is graciously hosting this year’s event. I’ll leave a flier out front for you. It’s the must-attend event of the
season for cat lovers.” She looked at me. “Do you like cats as well?”
“I really love mine.” I didn’t mind cats as a rule.
I liked them in general, but I wasn’t the cat lover my grandfather was, that was for sure. At least not yet. The one with the
missing fur had just come over and decided to make me her servant, and it was already working.
“Then you should definitely attend. It is supposed to be the hottest spot in the region—if you can get in. And if you buy
tickets to the fundraiser, you get in. I think that’s why we sold half the tickets we have, honestly.”
Animals was a shifter club, so it didn’t surprise me that locals, humans specifically, thought it was difficult to get in. For
them, it probably was. A $200 a ticket event, or whatever they cost, sounded like a lot to pay just to be one of the cool kids.
But to each their own, and it did help a good cause.
“Thanks,” I said, and she left.
“They don’t have names. You better think of one for your fella over there.” Pop-Pop indicated the cat, who was now sitting
on my shoulders, her belly flush against my neck.
“She said they need to go together.”
He nodded, confirming what I already knew would happen when we walked in the small room.
 “So their names should go together, right?” I asked.
“Like Snap, Crackle, and Pop?” He immediately shook his head. “That won’t work. Pop is too close to my name.”
“What about Apollo, Zeus, and Athena?” They were badass little critters and deserved equally badass names.
“I love it.”
Pop-Pop filled out the paperwork for the new editions to our family and took the flier for the fundraiser. Part of it included
an auction of donations, and he planned to donate a week at the B&B. He also pushed me to go. I told him I’d think about it.
“Athena, you’re going to love your new home,” I told the nearly asleep cat on my lap as Pop-Pop pulled into the driveway.
“I know I do.”
 Chapter Seven
Teddy
My week was going way too fast to suit me, and I was starting to wonder why I felt so determined to return home. What
did I have waiting for me there? Pulling into the parking lot on the day of the animal rescue event, it felt way too natural to be
here. I hoped that Warren and Karma would welcome me back the next time I had some vacation accumulated because I
couldn’t imagine a better place to vacation. In fact, I’d heard that the next Ursa family reunion would be here. Win-win.
The rescue event was not for a few hours yet, but I was here to help with all the final details. Arriving in the kitchen, the
chefs all waved and called my name. “Teddy, cinnamon roll?” When I’d attempted to protest all the food they were offering
me, Karma told me to eat up and not hurt their feelings.
“You’re family, Teddy. I wish you’d stay here, but at least let us feed you.”
So I did. I couldn’t lie and say it didn’t help me not to have to buy food, but more than that, everything was delicious. Well
prepared, great ingredients, overall the tastiest meals I’d had since Mom and Dad…since they…
“You’re taking a roll, yes?” Karma had appeared at my elbow. “I am. Come sit down and have coffee and we can talk a
few minutes before we get caught up in all the rush of an event day.” She sat at the round staff table off to the side, and the chef
came over with coffees and rolls. “These look great, thank you.”
No matter what job someone had, management, janitor, cook, anything, Karma always spoke to them with respect. To her,
all members of the team were equally valuable, which was probably a small part of why they adored her. Sure was different
from the job I had waiting for me at home.
I took a long draught of the coffee I’d had set in front of me, prepared just the way I liked it. “You noticed?” I smiled at the
chef before they walked away. “Your people are…”
“The best.” Karma picked up a fork and dug into the roll. “We’re so lucky. I know Warren has a lot of things he wants you
to do today, but I’m starting to feel guilty for letting you help out so much on your vacation. And for free.”
“It’s for a good cause.” I took a bite as well. “And you’re feeding me in food. Really great food.”
“Hmmm. Still seems kind of one-sided to me. The company you work for is very lucky to have you. If it wasn’t
dishonorable, I’d try to lure you to stay here and work for us.”
“You’ve already done so much for me, Karma. Made me feel a part of things, given me a connection to family. I couldn’t
ask any more.”
We sat quietly then while the kitchen workers bustled around and staff popped in for food. All staff ate for free and nobody
argued if they had a friend or relative with them. The cinnamon roll was as good as any I’d ever had, but I couldn’t help but
wonder if she was serious. “Karma, I—”
“Karma.” One of the workers who was helping with the event poked their head into the kitchen. “Warren is looking for
Teddy.”
“I’m coming.” I hopped up and carried my plate and cup to the sink. I’d been this close to begging her for a job. She was
just being kind, clearly, and I’d saved myself some embarrassment. I’d found family, and there was nothing more than that. I’d
visit when I could. And attend the reunion, which was sure to blow my mind.
In the main room, I found Warren sitting at the bar. All the decorations and other things we’d been working on were being
put in place, and he had a clipboard in front of him. Most people used tablets now, but my cousin was old school. “There you
are, Teddy. Ready to head out?”
“Yes, what all do I need to pick up?” I hopped up on the stool next to his and pulled out my phone. “Go ahead, boss.”
Warren went over the list with me while I made notes in the app on my phone for the purpose. “Now, some of these places
are hard to find. I know you’re new to the area. Do you need to take someone with you to help you get to all of them?”
“No. I’m pretty good with GPS. Are these baskets handmade?” Everything they did here was top of the line, and I knew
that Animals was absorbing all costs so the rescue could benefit from 100 percent of donations.
“Yes. Karma is friends with the artist, and they are being donated.”
“Gotcha. So do I need to pay for anything I’m picking up?”
“Nope. Everything is covered. You just need to say you’re there from Animals and should be no trouble.”
We sat side by side for ten or fifteen minutes while he went over the list item by item and I made notes, but he still gave me
a printed-out sheet when we were done. Karma had mentioned her mate was old school in a lot of ways, and this was one of
them. I only hoped that I could fit everything in my smallish car. In addition to the baskets, I was stopping at a charcuterie
place, an artist’s studio, a pottery spot, and others.
“Okay.” I stood up, tucked my phone in my pocket, and grabbed the printout. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Here.” He tossed me a set of keys. “Black Escalade in the employee lot. I think you’ll need the room.”
Woo-hoo. What an upgrade!
 Chapter Eight
Prince
“I’m fine staying here and helping get things ready for the morning.”
The B&B was opening again after a week off and, while everything was ready, it still felt like a big deal to me. It would
be my first time working while we had guests. I still wasn’t altogether sure what I was going to be doing. Pop-Pop would
dismiss my question and tell me we’d deal with it when the time came.
“Or”—he looked up from his book—“you can go to Animals, represent the B&B if they need that sort of thing, and have
fun. You remember what fun is, right?”
“I had fun this week,” I countered.
“Building your new boss a castle filled with places to scratch and catnip to rub against is not the same as going to a club.”
He set the book on the table beside him, giving me all his attention.
“I did have fun though. I like building things and Athena was really appreciative.” She was beyond sweet, and it was true.
I was her servant.
Pop-Pop gave me his world-famous side eye. Fine, it was family famous, but it was intense.
“Fine, I’ll go.” I had wanted to but was also nervous. Animals was a big deal. At least it felt that way. “But if I do and
come home early, can you let it be?”
“I’ll even let it be if you don’t come home until morning.” He winked.
“Ewww. You’re my grandfather. Can you not conjecture on hookups involving me, please?”
He laughed and laughed as I went to get ready.
The parking lot was packed when I pulled in. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Animals was known countrywide for their
events. The who’s who of the shifter world were known to frequent them. This was probably not at that same level, being a
fundraiser humans might be interested in. It was still going to be amazing.
After circling the lot twice, I found a spot. I suspected it might be for staff, but there were no signs saying as much, and it
was that or going home. There was no way Pop-Pop would believe I came home early because of parking. Not after I tried to
worm my way out of it a few times.
A line a mile long snaked up the cliff. I started to head toward the end of it, and a woman dressed to impress waved me
over. “Do you have a ticket?”
“Yeah, I do.” I reached into my pocket to fish it out. “Here.”
“Just as I thought. You come with me.” She held onto my ticket and led me past the line, ignoring the grumbles of those
who’d been waiting what I guessed was a long time. We walked right past two bouncers.
I ran to catch up to her.
“I thought I lost you.”
“Nope. I’m just confused. Isn’t that the line?” I was happy to be going inside, but the last thing I wanted was to piss off a
shifter who felt I cut in front of them.
“You donated. That’s a different kind of ticket.” She made me promise to ask for her if I needed anything. “Welcome to
Animals.”
“Don’t feel bad, but who are you?”
“Karma, my friend. Karma.” And away she went.
The music was pumping, and drinks were flowing. I wasn’t sure where to start and decided to walk around and get a feel
for the event. I worked my way to the room where the auction was going to be when my lion popped up and started to pay
attention.
What?
Mate. Here. Mate.
You scent our mate? I inhaled deeply. There it was, swimming in a sea of a hundreds of others.
Find.
I’m on it.
It was far easier said than done. The food, the alcohol, the perfumes and hair products of the humans and all of the
different shifters flooded my senses. But he was there—my mate—and once I grasped onto his scent, I was able to follow him.
Through the crowds, into a staff-only area, and eventually straight outside. I didn’t give up there. I followed until it
disappeared.
“No. No. No. No. No.” I shook my head, refusing to accept this was true, that he could be gone.
“You.”
I turned to see a bear of a man—upon further scenting, he was actually a wolf.
“Karma asked me to come and get you. She wants you on stage. They would like you to talk about your donation and get
the bids rolling.”
Crappity, crap, crap, crap.
If I thought there was even an inkling of a shot at finding my mate and that he hadn’t gotten into a car and driven off, I’d
have refused. But the reality was slapping me in the face: My mate was gone.
If only I had come earlier.
“Okay.” I followed the man inside, my brain flooding with ideas. If he came, chances were that he’d come again, right? It
wasn’t as if the state was flooded with shifter bars and, even if it was, they wouldn’t come close to being of the caliber of
Animals. And if he was coming back, then I needed to be there.
My grandfather would understand. I wasn’t worried about that. And, really, most all of the work done at the B&B was
during the day. The nighttime wasn’t going to be a problem.
Was it a good plan? Not even close. But it was the best one I could formulate as I followed the wolf back into the club and
over to the auction.
Time to push this to the side the best I could. The rescue meant something to my grandfather and to myself. My mate
mattered, but so did this.
Once Karma introduced me, I went to the mike, the lights making it not so easy for me to see the audience.
“Good evening, everyone. Thank you for coming out to support our local rescue. I should probably be telling you about
how amazing my grandfather’s B&B is in order to encourage you to bid. But instead, I want to tell you about Athena and how
her life was changed by the amazing rescue that brought us all here tonight.”
 Chapter Nine
Teddy
I managed to accomplish all the errands, including picking up a very special pair of earrings from a jeweler who designed
them just for this event. He insisted that I look inside the little box before I carried it off and beamed with pride when my jaw
dropped. Delicate cat faces with tiny, deep-green emerald eyes looked back at me. “They’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever
seen,” I breathed. You made these?”
“I did.” The jeweler lifted his chin higher. “Just for the animal rescue. I want to show you something else.” He pushed a
curtain covering a doorway aside and called, “Come here, Bast.” A cat that could only be a Siamese stalked into the front of
the shop. Eyes the same color as the ones on the earrings left no doubt as to his inspiration. “Isn’t he gorgeous?”
“He’s elegant, too.” I reached for the feline, but he moved on past, ignoring me completely.
“He came from the rescue, and he’s the best companion I can imagine. My mate passed away a couple of years ago, and I
was so lonely.”
I could feel the pain still simmering under the surface, but the beautiful cat came and rose on his hind legs to press his
paws on the jeweler’s slacks, and he bent to pick him up. “He’s not a full Siamese, but he thinks he is.”
I tucked the box in my backpack for safekeeping and drove the Escalade back to the club, laden with donations and food
and baskets. Then I helped with the last of the setup before heading home. “Are you sure you won’t stay?” Karma asked. “I
think you’ll enjoy it.”
“No. But thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I kind of did want to stay, but I’d never fit in. The champagne was chilling,
and the appetizers were laden with things I couldn’t even pronounce. The only thing that made sense to me was the charcuterie
board, which essentially held things like salami and cheese and fruits and nuts.
“Okay, then. I won’t try to convince you anymore.” She turned her attention to the bar setup with its rows of glasses and
bottles. “Have a good night, Cousin.”
I started to protest then recognized something I hadn’t. Not only was Warren my relative, but due to her marriage to him,
Karma was also my cousin. I’d really hit the relative jackpot here. And I’d only met a few so far!
Back at the motel, I reached into my backpack for something and my hand closed around a small square box. Oh no. The
earrings. I’d forgotten to take them out at Animals, and Warren had told me they were going to be a big draw. There was
nothing for it but to turn around and drive back in my clunky car. But the event was already getting started, and I wanted to look
more like I belonged, so I changed to a button-down shirt and slacks. I might not fit in with the fancy folks, but I didn’t want to
embarrass my cousins.
I drove past the public parking area, noting how filled it was. If each of those who parked there bid on items or made a
donation, it was going to be big success for the animal rescue. I sure hoped it would. Seeing the jeweler with his semi-Siamese
had shown me how what benefited the animals could also be a great thing for those who adopted them. The man lit up when the
cat put that paw on his leg.
The kitchen was busy as always, and I passed through with a wave to the staff and headed down the hallway toward the
main room from which a buzz of conversation emerged. Entering, I was glad I’d changed because while it was not formal,
everyone looked like they’d put some real effort into their appearance. They moved from table to table, looking at items up for
bid, speaking in excited voices, and dropping their bids into some of the items that Karma had explained were part of a silent
auction.
But the main things, those expected to garner larger amounts, would be part of an active auction with Karma acting as
auctioneer. I applauded the choice of her because I suspected she’d be good at getting people to dig deep and contribute.
She was standing on stage now and calling someone up to tell about their donation. I moved deeper into the room, looking
for someone to give the earrings to, but then a scent tickled my nose. Dusty grasses and sweet water. Where was it coming
from? Clutching my box, I looked around, my bear suddenly wide awake and on full alert. His growl rumbled inside me.
The scent was coming from near the stage, and I followed it, desperate to see who it came from. I handed off the earrings
to a worker as I went but then continued forward. Karma turned to clap as a man took the stage. But not just a man. Not an
ordinary man…no. A lion. I got to the base of the stairs and climbed them. I didn’t even stop to think how inappropriate it was
to do this because I could only get to him as fast as possible. I crossed the stage, and the man’s words trailed off. He faced me.
I closed the last of the distance, and we looked at one another, neither breathing.
Then we said it at the same time. “Mate.”
Everyone cheered and thunderous applause shook the floor. The man handed the microphone to Karma who said, “I’m
opening the bidding for the B&B package at two thousand dollars.” I was vaguely aware of the bidding behind me, of one after
another raising the price. It was a bidding frenzy for my mate’s donation. And I was proud.
We descended the steps together, my mate and I, and made our way hand in hand out of the main room, through the hallway,
and into the kitchen. It didn’t matter where we were going. We would go there together.
 Chapter Ten
Prince
I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I grabbed my mate’s hand and let him lead me through the building and into places I
was sure I wasn’t allowed. Did I care enough to ask him if we should be doing this? Absolutely not. My desire to see his bear,
for the two of us to run together outweighed all of that.
“It’s around here.” He tugged, and I followed. I thought we were going to be shifting outside, but then he opened a door
that led to a room I had difficulty understanding.
“Are we inside or out?”
The door closed behind us.
“It’s a faux courtyard. My cousin and his mate said I could use it whenever I want, and I don’t think I want to share you just
yet.” He pulled me into his arms for a long hug, scenting me deeply over and over again.
“I wouldn’t have guessed this was a pool if I hadn’t walked through the door myself.” I wasn’t ready to let go, but my lion
was begging to get out. “Does your bear like the water?”
“He loves it, but we can just use the rest of the space. I know cats and water aren’t the best of friends.” He nuzzled into my
neck. “If we don’t shift soon, I’m going to be too distracted to remember why we are here.”
I was already there.
“Let’s do this.” I stepped back, immediately feeling his loss. “And, for the record, my lion loves all things water.”
“And you came to the desert.” He chuckled.
“Long story short. I went to school for the wrong thing and came here to work for my grandfather.” It was the mega-
abbreviated version, but there would be plenty of time for the full one later.
“I can’t wait to swim with you.” He pulled his shirt over his head, and all thoughts of swimming vanished. I wanted to lean
in and trace every plane on his body with my tongue.
Instead, I took my own clothes off, my lion threatening to break through whether or not I was dressed.
Both of us naked, I took my beast first. He wanted to let out a roar, to show our mate that he was a fierce beast. I wasn’t
sure that would be allowed in here and threatened him with being in our skin if he did so.
My mate watched me, his eyes filled with appreciation for my form. “You are the most stunning creature I have ever seen.”
He took a step forward and rubbed his cheek against the side of my head. “Wow.”
If I could’ve purred, I’d have been doing so. Not even for a second did he show signs of fear, something I commonly saw
when in my fur around others. Even the larger animals were fearful of my beast. If only they knew what a complete house cat he
was under the tough exterior. Athena was far more dangerous than I.
“My bear needs to come out now.” He walked a few steps away and out came his animal.
He was taller than I thought he would be and didn’t resemble his name at all. This was no teddy bear standing in front of
me. He was strong and powerful. He was magnificent.
Our two animals came together, scenting each other and then putting our scent all over each other. There was something
both primal and sexy about that. And when our beasts decided our rolling around together had made enough of a marking, my
lion took off.
The two of us chased each other around the room. It was large, and we had a good time. It wasn’t the same as outside, but
it gave us all the feel of back where I used to live with none of the bugs. It was a win-win for me.
I dove into the water first. It was cool enough to be invigorating but warm enough that my human form would probably not
mind it. Teddy jumped in after me. He was less agile in the water than I was but held his own. We played in there like kittens
and cubs, splashing, diving, and chasing each other. I couldn’t remember a time when I had so much fun in my fur.
As with all good things, it was time for us to get out, far too soon for my liking. No one said we had to leave, but someone
came in, apologized for interrupting, and left. I took that as a sign we’d used the space long enough.
The nice thing about shifting in one’s fur is that as soon as I shifted back, I was dry. Hard and dry, but the hardness had
nothing to do with being a shifter and everything to do with the sexy bear shifter in front of me.
“They could’ve come in.” I grabbed my boxer briefs and slid them on. “I feel bad.”
“Don’t feel bad. He’s a polar bear, and there is a cooler pool for him on the other side of the property.” He pulled up his
jeans. “And he would’ve asked to join us if he was looking for company.”
“Do you know everyone here?”
“Not yet, but I’m learning. My cousin is mated to Karma.”
“Karma.” Of course it was her. “She was the one who led me inside when I got here and the one who sent someone to
come get me when I followed your scent and thought you were gone.”
“That checks.”
I looked at him, a bit confused by what he meant.
 “My cousin and his mate will deny it until the cows come home, but she has a way of helping people find each other.” He
finished putting on his clothes. “Ready to go someplace and talk?”
“I’m ready to go someplace with you, but talking isn’t what I had in mind.” I grabbed his shirt, pulled him toward me, and
sealed our lips together.
I was home.
 Chapter Eleven
Teddy
Humans would never understand how this went. I knew that because I grew up in their world. Sure, some people had what
they called one-night stands, usually meaningless sex that I personally thought happened out of loneliness more than horniness.
Could just be me. And the fact that I’d had so little experience in what made me tick. My bear was anything but chatty, until I’d
arrived here. And especially tonight.
I’d had more contact with people like me this week, learned more about what I was since I got to Animals earlier in the
week. And it wasn’t as if anyone attempted to school me or sign me up for a class on how to be a bear shifter. More that they
were just being themselves and in doing so, showing me how much I had always been myself.
I’d always just felt like a square peg. Characteristics I observed here had not been so well-received from a stubborn kid
growing up in foster care. Mom and Dad excepted, those who were in charge of my care had done their very best to suppress
my more “objectionable” characteristics. They all knew better what I needed, how I should behave, and while I got excellent
grades at school, my report cards reflected a child who didn’t have an easy time socially. I had few friends and none very
close. Partly, I moved a lot and kept ending up in different schools before I could form strong bonds, but also, I wasn’t good at
it. I didn’t have the rhythm of easy conversation. Did other shifters go through this? No idea, but in just a few days, I’d grown
to recognize that it wasn’t that there was something wrong with me. Or with the other kids in school or my coworkers.
Because in this short time, I’d learned what it was like not to be tense every minute of the day and night. And boy did it
feel great. And then, when I was thanking the gods for what I’d already discovered, I found myself on stage in front of a
roomful of well-dressed shifters and others who were there to help an animal rescue. I’d never been on a stage of any kind,
preferring to stay in the background—counter to what I’d begun to see other alphas do. But one scent of my mate brought that
part of me roaring out, and another moment apart was a moment too long.
After our kiss, we’d done all the courting a shifter needs. I knew that without anyone telling me. We started for the parking
lot, our hair still damp from our swim. “My car okay?”
“Sure.” He leaned in to me. “Where shall we go?”
“I’m staying at a motel, but would you rather go to your place?”
“The motel is good. I work and live with my grandpa.”
I kissed his cheek. “Agreed. I want you to feel free to cry out my name.”
He laughed, but his breath hitched, and I helped him into my car, wishing I’d accepted guest quarters from my cousins.
They were all set in the caves behind the club, with thick walls for privacy. But, more importantly, they were practically
soundproof. Or so I’d been told. But for now, any other motel guests would have to deal with whatever sounds we created.
The motel was about fifteen minutes away, but with the scent of our mingled arousal filling the car, it felt a lot longer. And
when we arrived at the motel, we were both so ready, our clothes just seemed to melt away—and barely inside the door.
My mating urge flared higher when I placed my hands on his hips and drew him toward me. His cock stood out so proud,
the clear droplet of pre-cum sparkling in the light from outside. I couldn’t help dropping to my knees to guide him toward my
open mouth. The salt of the droplet hit my tongue before the full taste of my mate bloomed on my palate. Sweet and salty and
warm, and his moans echoed around us. I sucked him in and used my tongue to stroke the vein that ran down the side before
letting him slide out enough to nibble at the head. I worked him in and out until his knees buckled, and I caught him just in time
to ease him onto the mattress but never released him from my mouth. I took him deeper into my throat, growling around him and
that made him cry out my name and spurt his delicious cum into my mouth.
Rising from my knees, I pushed his apart and felt his hole, finding him so slick and ready for me. I fitted the head of my
cock there and drove into his willing body, pausing halfway in to savor the tightness and massage of his interior muscles. Then
I pulled back and pushed in again. And again. And again. My eyes fluttered closed, all my attention on the flex and release, the
tight grip of him until I couldn’t hold back another second and shouted, “Gods,” as his tight ass milked me of every drop.
I hung over him for a long minute as my knot swelled, binding us together. I’d never knotted before, but I’d never been with
another shifter…and never been with my mate. But this time, I bent and sank my teeth into his shoulder, piercing the flesh and
tasting his blood. Marking him as mine.
 Chapter Twelve
Prince
I woke with a start, my phone ringing. I had muted everyone but Pop-Pop, so my gut reaction was that there was an
emergency. I flew from the bed to find my pants and fish out the phone, answering on the second ring.
“Are you okay?” I didn’t bother with normal greetings.
“Are you?” My grandfather sounded more amused than anything else.
“Yeah. I just… Sorry, the phone rang and I…what’s up?”
I glanced at the bed to see Teddy looking expectantly. The sheet fallen from his body, his nakedness not the distraction I
needed when on the phone with Pop-Pop.
“I don’t know what you did last night, but—”
“I should have called. I’m sorry.” My face was burning. I wasn’t a kid, obviously. But that didn’t mean I didn’t owe the
guy the respect of a phone call.
“Would you let me finish?”
I didn’t reply so he could, in fact, finish.
“I don’t know what you did last night, but my phone has been ringing off the hook today for reservations and possible
events. I hate to ask you this, but can you come and help me out for a while?”
“I’ll be there asap. I was supposed to be working. I didn’t mean to sleep in.” Not that I knew what time it was. Three
minutes earlier, I was sound asleep in my mate’s arms after the most mind-blowing night of my life.
“I’d feel bad, but you are to blame for this,” he teased. “The most common question I was asked was about Athena.”
And now the pieces were falling into place. My speech had earned him more than a high bid on his donation. It got people
talking. Huh. How about that.
“I’ll be there soon. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I got up off my spot on the floor and joined Teddy on the bed. “I hate to up and leave like this, but my grandfather needs
some help at the B&B.”
“Is it closer to this place or to Animals?”
Crap. I’d forgotten he drove me.
“Here.”
“Then, let’s take a shower, and I can drive you there. We’ll figure out your car later.” He took my hand in his. “I’m not
quite ready to be away from you yet.”
We showered separately, knowing full well that if we were in there together, we’d have taken twice as long, and drove to
the B&B.
The new guests wouldn’t be arriving for a few hours, and the parking lot was empty.
“This place is adorable.” Teddy pulled into a slot near the front door and turned off the engine.
“Thanks. It’s very New England meets the desert.” Which was what gave it a certain appeal that the other places to stay
around here didn’t have. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Can’t get rid of me that quickly.” He unbuckled his seat belt and cracked the door open.
The polite thing would’ve been to argue, to let him know I didn’t need his free labor just because we spent the night
boning. But I wasn’t ready to let him go, either, and the two of us walked in hand in hand.
Athena came barreling down the stairs as soon as I arrived.
“Did you miss me?” I squatted down, and she jumped up on my shoulder to perform her favorite activity, the living cowl.
“She is everything you said she was.” Teddy reached out, and she looked at him, almost daring him to try and pet her.
“Maybe next time, sweet girl.”
My grandfather came out of the kitchen. “You brought a friend…a mate. Well, don’t I feel like the worst grandfather ever
now.” He reached out a hand to Teddy. Pop-Pop had picked up so many human quirks since opening this place. I kind of loved
it.
“This is my mate, Teddy. I met him last night, and he offered to come and help.”
The two of them shook hands.
“This is a really cool place. I love how it feels like it belongs on the ocean while being as far away as you could be.”
Pop-Pop patted his shoulder. “You get this place. Now, let me show you two what needs doing because there is a list.”
He wasn’t kidding about the list. While my grandfather dealt with all the scheduling and phone calls, Teddy and I checked
in all of the guests as they arrived, made and served the afternoon tea, and took care of the fur babies.
There were also some random odds and ends thrown in. It wasn’t until the last guest checked in that I saw that this wasn’t
a list created for us. This was his daily to-do list. Pop-Pop hadn’t offered me the job out of pity. He needed the help. How he
did all of this on his own every day without collapsing was scary. No wonder he blocked random weeks off. It was survival.
My mate and I hadn’t talked about future plans yet, but if there was a way for us to stay here, I wanted to do that.
“You two are lifesavers.” Pop-Pop set a casserole on the table for dinner. “I wasn’t expecting the donation to bring in
customers.”
“Your grandson and Athena won them over.” Teddy squeezed my knee under the table, his face filled with pride.
“Maybe I need to add marketeer to your list of tasks. He sat down. “Although I suppose it worked because you weren’t
trying to sell the week’s stay, were you?”
“No. I was trying to get people to give until it hurt.” I spooned some casserole onto a plate and handed it to Pop-Pop and
then did the same for Teddy before getting myself some. “This is nice. Having dinner like this.”
I’m sure none of this was the way Teddy had planned to spend his first full day with his mate, but I sort of thought it was
perfect.
“I agree.” Teddy took a bite, complete with the perfect yummy sounds. “It’s nice to have a family dinner.”
And that’s what this was: our first family dinner. The first of many.
 Chapter Thirteen
Teddy
I couldn’t leave now. I had already been wishing I could stay, but now I would do anything in my power to make it happen.
Taking my mate back to Las Vegas was out of the question. He had his grandfather here, whom he’d begun working with, and
dragging him away from that just to spend his days and nights in my studio apartment was a very bad idea So that meant I
needed an alternative plan.
The company I worked for did have a store in Phoenix, and I might have been able to transfer, but the thought held no
appeal. Images from my tenure there flooded my mind, the customers with their demands, supervisors always on me to produce
more sales and make the people under me fall in line. Truth was, they made minimum wage, never got enough hours to qualify
for benefits, and were pressured to work through their breaks. It was my job to apply that pressure, and not doing so got me in
trouble and kept me from another promotion to full department manager.
I’d been doing okay there, struggling but recognizing that I had to pay my dues until I could manage to get a better job
where I wasn’t expected to violate state and federal labor laws to increase company profits. If I were honest, my refusal to
crack the whip on my fellow employees was going to do more than keep me from climbing the ladder of success. Eventually, it
would cost me my job. Great loss?
No. Not at all. I loved being able to help resolve difficult situations, make other people’s lives better—employees or
coworkers. And, I was good at upselling, although it didn’t make me feel great about myself. What I needed was a way to use
those skills for good instead of corporate greed.
Meeting Prince’s grandfather and helping out for a bit had been fun, but I didn’t think I wanted to look for a job in the
hospitality arena. At least not full-time. I could see the appeal though. At one point, I’d found myself at the check-in desk while
Prince and his grandfather stepped away. It wasn’t a big area like you might find at a hotel or motel, just a desk with a chair in
a corner of the living area nearest the front door. It was a cozy place, with such an eclectic feel, and I loved it. Everything I’d
seen in my errand running in this area was all about Southwest in color and style, and this combination of New England with
the local color had every guest who checked in commenting about how much they liked it.
A family arrived with their two adorable toddlers in tow. Both wolf shifters, their kids burst into the room, growling and
tumbling on the floor. My heart squeezed at the cuteness and also at the affection in their parents’ gaze.
I helped them get checked in and then handed them their keys just as a crash sounded from across the room, followed by
the irate cry of one of the children.
“I’m so sorry.” The omega dad hurried over to the corner where the little boy sat on the floor sobbing while his brother
looked on. “Yaki, what have you done to Sami?”
The alpha shook his head. “Boys, right?” And he herded his little family off to their room, teasing them gently until the two
little ones hugged and made up. They had a nice thing going there, something I had never dared dream of.
Then Prince and his grandfather returned and took care of the extras.
I settled back again to think. Having already decided I’d be staying here with my mate, I needed to focus on how I would
take care of him. And that meant two things: a job and a home. No longer a single shifter living in a human world, I’d found my
mate and it was time to take my place as his alpha. A good job and a nice place to live.
How I wished I’d been more prepared, but my background had not given me reason to dream that I could have a real life
as a shifter, much less find a fated mate. If I was going to be anywhere near what he deserved, I’d need to make some changes
and fast.
My phone rang, and I reached for it. “Hello?”
“Teddy? It’s Warren. Are you busy?”
“No, not busy at all. Just hanging around the room and considering my life.”
“Perfect. Karma wonders if you can come by for a bit to talk?”
Of course I hopped right in the car and drove over because sitting and thinking was getting me nowhere. And while I didn’t
think Karma was actually offering me a job when we spoke that time, I wondered if there was a chance that they might take me
on in some capacity. As a janitor…anything. Except, that it most likely would not pay enough. No matter how generous the
employer. Also, I wasn’t really qualified.
But when I knocked on the door of Warren’s office, and Karma called, “Come in,” they were two steps ahead of me.
“Hi.” I hesitantly stepped inside to see my cousin in his chair, his mate on his lap. They were smiling at each other in a
way that made my heart ache with happiness. “I’m interrupting.”
“Not at all.” She smiled but did not stand. “We called you in.”
“Sit down,” Warren growled, his arm around his mate. “We have things to discuss.”
An hour later, I left them still sitting like that, Karma beaming down at Warren, reminding me how mates truly were made
for each other. I also had accepted a job in the events department of Animals. They were doing so many, they needed another
full-time staff member, and after the scene between Prince and I raised so much money, they felt I had a real stage presence.
I didn’t. But I would.
Good-paying job. Check.
Next, somewhere to live.
Things were looking up.
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Or look at the painting of another vault on the opposite page. This is
more stiff than the former, because it was executed nearly a century
later; still, there is nothing to declare its Christian character until the
eye rests on the Good Shepherd, who appears below the principal
part of the decoration.

Painting on Vault of an Arcosolium in Cemetery of Prætextatus.

We are not saying that the artists who executed these paintings
had no Christian meaning in them; on the contrary, we believe that
they had, and that the paintings really suggested that meaning to
those who first saw them. For we know, on the authority of Tertullian,
that “the whole revolving order of the seasons” (which are
represented in the second painting) was considered by Christians to
be “a witness of the resurrection of the dead.” This, therefore, was
probably the reason why they were painted here; and no Christian
needs to be reminded that our Lord spoke of Himself under the
image of a vine, which sufficiently explains the first painting. Still the
fact remains that the representations themselves are such as might
have been used by Christian and by Pagan artists indifferently. If any
of our readers feel disappointed that the first essays of the Christian
painter should not have had a more distinctly Christian character,
they must remember that a new art cannot be created in a moment.
If the Christian religion in its infancy was to make use of art at all, it
had no choice but to appropriate to its own purposes the forms of
ancient art, so far as they were pure and innocent; by degrees it
would proceed to eliminate what was unmeaning, and substitute
something Christian.
Some writers have supposed that Christians used at first Pagan
subjects as well as Pagan forms of ornamentation; and they point to
the figure of Orpheus, which appears in three or four places of the
Catacombs, and to that of Psyche also, which may be seen about as
often. So insignificant a number of exceptions, however, would
scarcely suffice to establish the general proposition, even if they
were in themselves inexplicable. But, in truth, the figure of Orpheus
has no right to be considered an exception at all, for he was taken by
some of the early Fathers as a type of our Lord; and it was even
believed by some of them, that, like the sybil, he had prophesied
about Him. Clement of Alexandria calls our Lord the Divine
enchanter of souls, with evident reference to the tale of Orpheus;
and the same idea will have occurred to every classical scholar, as
often as he has heard those words of the Psalmist which speak of
the wicked as “refusing to hear the voice of the charmer, charm he
never so wisely.” When, then, we find Orpheus and his lyre, and the
beasts enchanted by his song, figured on the walls or roofs of the
Catacombs, we have a right to conclude that the artist intended a
Christian interpretation to be given to his work; and a similar
explanation may be given of any other subjects of heathen
mythology which have gained admittance there.
If we were asked to name the subject which seems to have been
used most frequently in the early decorations of the Catacombs, we
should give the palm to the Good Shepherd; nor is this preference to
be wondered at. Any one who has meditated upon the words in
which our Blessed Lord took this title to Himself, will easily
understand why the first Christians, living in the midst of heathen
persecutors, should have delighted to keep so touching an image
always before them. They scratched it, therefore, roughly on the
tombstone as they laid some dear one in the grave; they carved it on
their cups, especially on the sacred chalice; they engraved it on
signet rings and wore it on their fingers; they placed it in the centre of
the paintings with which they covered the ceiling of their
subterranean chapels, or they gave it the chief place immediately
over the altar. We meet with it everywhere, and everybody can
recognise it.
There are, however, one or two peculiarities in its mode of
treatment which require a word of explanation. The shepherd is
generally represented as a young man lightly clad, with his tunic girt
high about his loins, denoting thereby his unwearied activity; he is
surrounded by sheep, or he carries one on his shoulders, bearing it
home to the fold,—the most tender act of his office. And there is
nothing in this but what we might naturally have expected. But he is
also sometimes represented with a goat instead of a sheep upon his
shoulders; and, in later paintings, he has the pastoral reed or tuneful
pipe either hanging on the tree by his side or he is playing on it. Now
this last particular has no place in the gospel parable, and the former
seems directly opposed to it, since the goat is the accepted symbol
of the wicked, the sheep only of the good. Hence these points have
been taken up by some critics, either as tokens of thoughtless
carelessness on the part of the Christian artists, or as proofs that
their work, whether consciously or unconsciously, was merely copied
from some Pagan original. Neither of these remarks appears to be
just. The images of a shepherd in Pagan art, with scarcely a single
exception, are of a very different kind; and the particular details
objected to are not only capable of receiving a Christian
interpretation, they even express consoling Christian truths. St.
Gregory Nazianzen speaks of the anxious care of the shepherd as
he sits on the hillside, filling the air with the soft notes of his pipe,
calling together his scattered flock; and he observes that in like
manner the spiritual pastor, desirous to recall souls to God, should
follow the example of his Divine Master, and use his pipe more
frequently than his staff. Then, as to the substitution of the goat for
the sheep, it was probably intended as a distinct protest against the
un-Christian severity of those heretics, who in very early times
refused reconciliation to certain classes of penitent sinners.
Not many, however, of the most ancient Christian paintings are of
the same simple and obvious character as the Good Shepherd. The
leading feature which characterises most of them is this, that they
suggest religious ideas or doctrines under the guise of artistic
symbols or historic types. One doctrine specially prominent in them,
and most appropriately taught in cemeteries, is that of the
resurrection and the everlasting life of happiness which awaits the
souls of the just after death. It is in this sense that we must
understand not only the frequent repetitions of the stories of Jonas
and of Lazarus—the type and the example of a resurrection—but
also of Daniel in the lions’ den, and the three children in the fiery
furnace. These last, indeed, very probably had reference also to the
persecution which the Christians were then suffering, and were
intended to inspire courage and a confident expectation that God
would deliver them, even as He had delivered His chosen servants
of old; but, as they are spoken of in very ancient Christian
documents (e.g., in the hymns of St. Ephrem and in the Apostolic
Constitutions) as foreshadowing the future triumph of the body over
death, whence these too had been in a manner delivered, we prefer,
in obedience to these ancient guides, to assign this interpretation to
them; at any rate, it is certain that this interpretation cannot be
excluded. Figures also of the deceased, with arms outstretched in
prayer, sometimes accompanied by their names, or standing in the
midst of a garden, or, again, figures of birds pecking at fruits and
flowers, we understand as images of the soul still living after death,
received into the garden of Paradise, and fed by immortal fruits.
Sometimes there may be a difference of opinion perhaps as to the
correctness of this or that interpretation suggested for any particular
symbolical painting; but the soundness of the principle of
interpretation in itself cannot be called in question, nor will there
often be any serious difficulty in its application, among those who
study the subject with diligence and candour. The language, both of
Holy Scripture and of the earliest Fathers, abounds in symbols, and
it was only natural that the earliest specimens of Christian art should
exhibit the same characteristic. More was meant by them than that
which met at first the outward senses; without this clue to their
meaning, the paintings are scarcely intelligible,—with it, all is plain
and easy.

Tombstone from the very ancient Crypt of St. Lucina, now united with the
Catacomb of St. Callixtus.

Take, for example, the figure of an anchor, so repeatedly

represented on gravestones and other monuments of the
Catacombs; so rarely, if indeed ever, to be found on Pagan
monuments. What influenced the early Christians in the selection of
such a figure? what meaning did they attach to it? This enquiry
forces itself upon our minds, if we are intelligent students of Christian
archæology, anxious to understand what we see: and if we are also
prudent and on our guard against being led astray by mere fancy, we
shall conduct the enquiry by the same laws and principles as we
should apply to the interpretation of some perplexing riddle in
heathen art. We should first examine the literature of the age and
people to whom it was supposed to belong, and see if any light could
be thrown upon it from that source. In the present instance,
therefore, we turn to the sacred literature of the Christians, and we
find there a passage which speaks of the duty of “holding fast the
hope that is set before us, which hope we have as an anchor of the
soul, sure and firm.” We assume, then, provisionally, as a basis of
further enquiry, that an anchor may perhaps have been used as an
emblem of Christian hope. Continuing our search in the same sacred
books, we find that there was a special connection in the Christian
creed between hope and the condition of the dead. It is written that
Christians are not sorrowful about those who die, “as others who
have no hope.” The conclusion is obvious, that a reference to hope
is just one of those things which might not unreasonably be looked
for on a Christian’s grave-stone, since it was something on which
they prided themselves as a point of difference between themselves
and others. This greatly confirms our conjectural interpretation of the
symbol, and we proceed with some confidence to apply it to every
example of its use that we can meet with; for if it is the right key, it
cannot fail to unlock all the problems that will come before us. In
doing this, we are first struck by the fact that in several instances the
very names of the deceased persons on whose epitaphs the anchor
is engraved, themselves also meant the same thing. They were
called Spes, Elpis, Elpidius, Elpizusa; all names coming from the
Latin or Greek word for hope. Next, we observe that many of these
anchors are so fashioned as to contain a hidden yet unmistakable
representation of a cross; and, reflecting that the one only ground of
a Christian’s hope is the cross of Christ, we hail this also as lending
further support to our theory. Yet once more, we find many of the
epitaphs contain the same idea, expressed in distinct words written
in the ordinary alphabet and not in these hieroglyphics, so to call
them,—we find Spes in Deo, Spes in Deo Christo &c. Finally, we
often find the anchor united with one or more of several other
symbols, to which, by a similar but independent process, we can
assign a certain signification. We try, then, whether our rendering of
the anchor as equivalent to “hope” will make sense, as a schoolboy
would say who was trying to translate a piece of Greek or Latin into
English, in all these other places; and if it does, we are satisfied that
our interpretation can be no longer disputed. A false reading of a
single symbol might chance to fit one monument, or two, or three;
but to say that any false reading will fit hundreds of separate
monuments, fit all equally well, and succeed in extracting a
consistent meaning from each, is to assert what no sane man can
believe.
Those who know the way in which the interpretation of the
Egyptian hieroglyphics was first guessed at, and then triumphantly
established against all gainsayers, by a similar process of reasoning,
will not dispute the soundness of the argument by which the
meaning of the anchor has been arrived at. We cannot attempt to
vindicate our interpretation of all the other symbols used by Christian
artists with the same minuteness of detail, neither is it necessary. All
will accept the dove as a fitting symbol of the simplicity, the
gentleness, purity, and innocence of a Christian soul gone to its rest,
and a sheep as fitly representing a disciple of Christ.
Another emblem, the fish, requires more words of explanation,
because it is capable of receiving a double meaning. At first sight,
our thoughts at once recur to the words of our Blessed Lord to St.
Peter and his brother, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of
men,” and no doubt this will sufficiently explain many old Christian
paintings or sculptures in which the fish appears. Taking this idea for
our guide, we can understand why a man angling and catching a fish
should find a place on the walls of a church, whether above ground
or below. Such a representation in these sacred places was inspired
by the same doctrinal teaching, and suggested the same ideas, as
were present to the old Christian preachers when they spoke of men
being caught by the bait of charity and the hook of preaching, and
being drawn out of the bitter waters of this world, not to have their life
taken from them, which is the fate that awaits the natural fish when it
is caught, but that they may be made partakers of a new and
heavenly life. This, however, will not enable us to decypher other
symbolical paintings into which the fish enters, and which are found
with equal frequency among the decorations of the Christian
cemeteries. It is necessary that we should learn another, and, as it
would seem, a still more common use of the fish. Just as the dove
might stand for the Holy Ghost, and also for a soul sanctified by the
Holy Ghost—just as the lamb or sheep might stand either for the
Lamb of God, or for those who are “the people of His pasture and
the sheep of His hand”—so the fish, too, was used not only to
represent a Christian, but also, still more frequently perhaps, Christ
Himself. To understand how this could be, we must study a little
Greek, which may be easily apprehended, however, even by those
who are not scholars, if they will fix their attention for a few moments
on the accompanying plan:—

Ι ΗϹΟΥϹ = Jesus
Χ ΡΙϹΤΟϹ = Christ
Θ ΕΟΥ = of God
Υ ΙΟϹ = Son
Ϲ ΩΤΗΡ = Saviour

The Greek for fish is here written perpendicularly, one letter above
another, ΙΧΘΥϹ; and it is seen that these five letters are the initial
letters of five words, which, together, contain a tolerably complete
account of what Christ is. He is Jesus Christ, Son of God,
Saviour. Thus, this one word, ιχθυς, or fish, read in this way, tells a
great deal about our Lord’s name and titles; it is almost a miniature
creed, or, as one of the Fathers expresses it, “it contains in one
name a whole multitude of holy names.” It would take us too long to
enquire into the origin of this device for expressing our Lord’s name
and titles in so compendious and secret a form. Clearly, whoever
may have invented it, it was very ingenious, and specially convenient
at those times and places where men dared not speak of Him freely
and openly. We cannot say when it began, but it was in universal use
throughout the Church during the first three hundred years of her life,
and then, when she was in the enjoyment of peace and liberty, it
gradually dropped, first out of sight in Christian monuments, and
then out of mind also in Christian literature. But, during the ages of
persecution, it had sunk deep into the habits of Christian thought and
language; it became, as it were, a part of the very Catechism,—
every baptized Christian seems to have been familiar with it, whether
he lived on the banks of the Tiber or of the Po, of the Loire, of the
Euphrates, or of the Nile. In all these parts of the world, writers in
books, poets in hymns, preachers in sermons, artists in painting, the
very masons themselves on gravestones, made use of it without a
word of explanation, in a way that would utterly mystify any modern
Christian community. Who would now dream of carving or painting a
fish upon a gravestone in a Christian churchyard? yet scores of
graves in the Catacombs were so marked, and some of them with
hardly a word or an emblem upon them besides. Or what meaning
could we attach to the picture of a dove or a lamb standing on a
fish’s back, if we did not understand that the fish represented Christ,
and the dove or the lamb a Christian, so that the whole symbol stood
for a Christian soul supported by Christ through the waves and
storms of life? Or again, only imagine a Christian in these days
having buried with him, or wearing round his neck during life, a little
figure of a fish cut in ivory, or crystal, or mother of pearl, or some still
more costly material? Yet a number of those who were buried in the
Catacombs did this; and some of these fish even bear an inscription,
calling upon the fish to be a Saviour!
It was necessary to give this explanation of certain symbols, and
to justify it by sufficient examples, before we proceed to study any of
the more complex paintings in the Catacombs. But now, with these
thoughts in our minds, let us enter the Cemetery of St. Callixtus, and
look on a figure represented two or three times on a wall of one of its
most ancient chambers: a fish swimming and carrying on its back a
basket of bread, and in the midst of the loaves of bread, a glass
vessel containing a red liquid. What is this but bread and wine, the
elements of the Sacrament of Love, and Jesus Christ Its reality? St.
Jerome, when speaking of a holy bishop of Toulouse who had sold
the gold and silver vessels of his church to relieve the poor, uses
these words, “What can be more rich than a man who carries the
body of Christ in a basket of wicker-work, and the blood of Christ in a
vessel of glass?” Here are undeniably the basket of wicker-work and
the vessel of glass; and who can doubt that we have the other also,
veiled under the figure of the fish?
 Consecration of the Holy Eucharist.

Let us go to another part of the same cemetery, and consider a

painting which with some variations is repeated in three or four
successive chambers, all opening out of one of the primitive
galleries. Bread and fish lie on a three-legged table, and several
baskets of bread are arranged along the floor in front of it, or a man
and woman stand by the side of the table. The woman has her arms
outstretched in the form of a cross, the ancient attitude of Christian
prayer; the man, too, is stretching forth his hands, but in another
way: he holds them forward, and especially his right hand, over the
bread and fish, in such a way as to press upon every Catholic
intelligence the idea that he is blessing or consecrating what is
before him. To modern eyes, indeed, his vestment does not look
worthy of one engaged in the highest act of Christian worship;
perhaps, at first sight, it almost strikes us as hardly decent.
Nevertheless, to the Christian archæologist, this very vestment is a
strong confirmation of the view we are taking of the real sense of the
painting. For it is the Greek pallium, or philosophers’ cloak; and we
know that at the time to which this painting belongs (the end of the
second or beginning of the third century) it was a common practice
to preach the Word of God in this particular costume. Tertullian, who
was living at the same time, wrote a treatise De Pallio, in which, in
his own peculiar style, he defended its use, and congratulated the
pallium on its promotion to be a Christian vestment. It was not until
fifty years later that St. Cyprian objected to it, both as not sufficiently
modest in itself and as vainglorious in its signification.
If there were any lingering uncertainty as to whether these figures
were really intended to have reference to the Holy Eucharist, or
whether our interpretation of them may not have been fanciful and
arbitrary, an examination of the other decorations of the same
chambers will suffice to remove it. For it will be seen that, whilst in
closest connection with them are other suitable emblems or figures
of the same Divine Sacrament, they are also uniformly preceded by
representations of the initiatory Sacrament of the Christian covenant,
without which no man can be admitted to partake of the Eucharist;
and they are followed by a figure of the Resurrection, which our Lord
Himself most emphatically connected with the eating of His flesh and
the drinking of His blood, saying, “He that eateth my flesh and
drinketh my blood, hath everlasting life, and I will raise him up at the
last day.” These three subjects, Baptism, the Holy Eucharist, and the
Resurrection occupy the three perfect sides of the chamber, the
fourth side being, of course, broken by the entrance; and, taken in
their right order, they faithfully depict the new life of a Christian; the
life of divine grace, first imparted by baptism, then fed by the Holy
Eucharist, and finally exchanged for an everlasting life of glory.

The Smitten Rock.

 Let us look at the figures of these subjects in detail, and see how
they are represented here. First, we have Moses striking the rock, a
scene which occurs over and over again in the Catacombs, and
which in these chambers commences the series of paintings we are
examining; it is to be seen on the left-hand wall as we enter. St. Paul
tells us that “the rock was Christ;” the water, then, which flowed from
it must be those streams of Divine grace whereby His disciples are
refreshed and sustained during their pilgrimage through the
wilderness of this world, and this grace is first given in the waters of
baptism. Next we have a man fishing, which has been already
explained; and (in one instance at least) this is followed by another
man performing the very act of baptism on a youth who stands
before him; the youth stands in the water, and the man is pouring
water over his head. Lastly, on the same wall, is the paralytic
carrying his bed on his shoulders—the same, doubtless, who was
miraculously cured at the pool of Bethsaida, which pool the fathers of
the Church uniformly interpret as typical of the healing waters of the
Christian sacrament.

The Sacrament of Baptism.

 Eucharistic Feast.

On the wall opposite the doorway, the central scene is a feast

wherein seven men are seated at a table, partaking of fish and
bread; and there is a history in the last chapter of St. John’s Gospel,
of which it may be taken as a literal representation. It was when our
Lord “showed Himself to His disciples at the Sea of Tiberias, and He
showed Himself, after this manner. There were together Simon Peter
and Thomas who is called Didymus, and Nathanael who was of
Cana of Galilee, and the sons of Zebedee, and two others of His
disciples”—seven in all. “And they went a-fishing, but caught nothing.
Jesus appeared to them on the shore.” Then there follows the
miraculous draught of fishes; and as soon as they came to land, they
saw “hot coals lying, and a fish laid thereon, and bread. Jesus saith
to them, Bring hither of the fishes which you have now caught. And
Jesus cometh and taketh bread and giveth them, and fish in like
manner.” Such is the letter of the gospel narrative; but this narrative
is in fact a mystical and prophetic representation of the Church
gathered together out of the waters of the world, and fed by the Holy
Eucharist. The hundred and fifty-three great fishes that were caught
represent the large numbers of the faithful that were drawn into the
Church by apostolic preaching; the fish laid on the hot coals is Jesus
Christ in His Passion, His Body “delivered for us” on Mount Calvary,
given to us also to be our food in the Blessed Sacrament whereby
“we show the death of the Lord until He come.” The faithful caught in
the net of the Church must be brought to that broiled fish (Piscis
assus, Christus passus, says St. Augustine), that crucified Lord, and
they must be incorporated with Him by partaking of the living Bread
which came down from Heaven.

Sacrifice of Isaac.

Resurrection of Lazarus.
 Such is the full meaning of the scene at the Sea of Tiberias, as
interpreted according to the unanimous consent of the Fathers; and
the adjuncts of this picture show that it was intended to be so
understood here also; for on one side is the figure of the
consecration already described; and on the other, the sacrifice of
Isaac by his father, which was surely a most lively type of the
sacrifice of Christ upon the altar; wherein blood is not really shed,
but the Lamb is only “as it were slain,” just as Isaac was not really
slain, but was received back from the dead, “for a parable.” Lastly, as
has been mentioned before, there follows on the third wall of the
same chamber the natural complement of the rest; the doctrine of
the Resurrection, as contained in the fact of the rising again of
Lazarus. Thus, this whole series of paintings, executed at the end of
the second century, or within the first twenty or thirty years of the
third, and repeated (as has been said) in several successive
chambers, was a continual homily, as it were, set before the eyes of
the faithful, in which they were reminded of the beginning, progress,
and consummation of their new and supernatural life.
We do not say that every modern Christian who looks at these
paintings will thus read their meaning at once; but we believe that all
ancient Christians did so, because it is clear from the writings of the
Apostles themselves and their successors, that nothing was more
familiar to the Christian mind of those days than the symbolical and
prophetical meaning of the facts both of the Old and of the New
Testaments. They believed the facts themselves to have taken place
just as they are recorded, but they believed also that they had a
mysterious signification, whereby the truths of the Christian faith
were insinuated or expressed, and that this was their highest and
truest meaning. “Perhaps there is no one recorded miracle of our
Lord,” says St. Gregory, “which is not therefore selected for
recording because it was the type of something to happen in the
Church;” and precisely the same was felt to be true also of the
histories of the patriarchal and Jewish dispensations. “All these
things had happened to them in figure, and they were written for our
correction, upon whom the ends of the world are come.”
 It may not be often possible to trace as clearly as we have just
done in a single instance, the logical order and dependence of the
several subjects that were selected for representation in each
chamber of the Catacombs; they may not always have been so
admirably arranged as to be in fact equivalent, as these were, to a
well-ordered dogmatic discourse. Nevertheless it is only when read
in this way, that the decoration of the Catacombs can be made
thoroughly intelligible; and it is certain that some such meaning must
have been intended from the first. The extremely limited number of
Biblical subjects selected for representation, while such an immense
variety is really contained in the Bible (and so many of those that are
neglected might have seemed equally suitable for the purpose), and
then again, the thoroughly unhistorical way in which these few
subjects are dealt with, shows clearly that the principle of selection
was theological rather than artistic. The artists were not left to
indulge their own unfettered fancy, but worked under ecclesiastical
supervision; and the Bible stories which they depicted were not
represented according to their historical verity, because they were
not intended to be a souvenir of past facts, but to symbolise and
suggest something beyond themselves. In order, therefore, to
understand them, it is necessary to bring them face to face with the
Christian doctrines which they foreshadow.
 Noe in the Ark.

Look, for example, at the numerous pictures of Noe in the ark

which appear in the Catacombs, all resembling one another, but
none resembling the reality. Instead of a vessel, three stories high,
containing eight human beings and specimens of every kind of
animal, we see only a narrow box, barely large enough to hold one
person, and that person sometimes a lady, whose name is also
inscribed upon it perhaps, being the same lady (as we learn from the
inscription) who lies buried in the adjacent tomb. If all ancient
Christian literature had perished, we should have been at a loss to
comprehend this enigma; but as soon as we know that the Fathers
of the Church speak of it as an acknowledged fact, which “nobody
doubts” (to use St. Augustine’s words), that the Church was typified
by the ark, a ray of light begins to dawn upon us; and when we call
to mind that St. Peter himself speaks of the waters of baptism as
saving men’s souls, “even as Noe and his family were saved by the
waters of the flood,” all is at once made clear. We see plainly that the
friends of the deceased have intended to signify that he had been
received into the ark of the Church and made a Christian by baptism.
And if they had added to the composition, as they often did, the
figure of a dove bringing an olive branch to the person standing in
the ark, this also enters into the same interpretation; it was
symbolical of that Divine peace which comes to the soul in this world
by faith, and which is a pledge of the peace given by everlasting
happiness in the next.

Scenes from the History of Jonas.

The frequent repetition of the story of Jonas in a Christian

cemetery needs no explanation, our Lord himself having put it
forward as a type of His own resurrection, and so a pledge of ours
also. The particular form, however, under which this story appears,
was not suggested, as Noe’s ark was, by the place which it held in
the cycle of Christian doctrine, but rather by a certain Pagan model
with which the Romans of that day were very familiar. The
mythological tale of Andromeda, and the sea-monster to which she
was exposed on the coast near Joppa (for so the story ran), was a
favourite subject for the decoration of the walls in Roman villas,
temples, and other public buildings. It may be seen in Pompeii, and,
much nearer to the Catacombs, in Rome itself—e.g., in the barracks
of one of the cohorts of the imperial police, discovered a few years
ago in Trastevere; and in both places the monster is the precise
counterpart of that which is always represented as swallowing or
casting up Jonas; a kind of dragon, with large head and ears, a long
slender neck, and a very tortuous body. Of course, in the infancy of
Christian art, it was convenient to have a model at hand to represent
an unknown monster, and, as we have said, we do not doubt that
this is the true history of its origin. Still this was not the only reason
which recommended the adoption of so grotesque a form; it offered
the further advantage of creating as strong a contrast as possible
between this “great fish,” which was a type of death, and the ordinary
fish, which, as we have seen, was the recognised symbol of the
Author of life.
Another incident in the life of Jonas, which was often painted in the
Catacombs, was his resting on the east side of the city of Nineve,
under the shade of a certain plant which God caused to grow up for
his protection, and which He again caused as suddenly to wither
away. In the days of St. Jerome and St. Augustine there was a
dispute between those learned doctors as to the precise nature of
this plant; and in the course of it St. Jerome appealed to these
paintings as bearing testimony in favour of his own rendering of the
Hebrew word. We need not enter into the merits of the dispute, but it
is important to note the fact of the appeal, as it peremptorily refutes
the ridiculous assertions of certain authors of the present day, who
would assign very recent dates to these and similar paintings in the
Catacombs. We know that St. Jerome was very fond, when a boy, of
visiting these places, and it is interesting to hear him appealing to the
paintings he had seen in them as to “ancient witnesses.” It would be
still more interesting, if we could say with certainty what were the
motives which led the ancient Christians to choose this subject for
such frequent contemplation; whether they read in it only a very
striking lesson as to the watchfulness of Divine Providence, or
whether it had a more subtle meaning, as a type of the mercy of God
which overshadows the souls of the faithful in the long sleep of death
which goes before the Sun of the Resurrection. But where no clue is
supplied by the writings of cotemporary, or nearly cotemporary
authors, we prefer to keep silence rather than to insist on any
doubtful interpretation. All that need be said is that such a painting
was certainly not out of place in a Christian Church or cemetery, any
more than the story of Adam and Eve, or any other Biblical narrative
which has reference to the doctrines or promises announced by
Christianity to the world.
We do not pretend to enumerate here all the subjects from the Old
and New Testaments that were painted in the Catacombs. We are
but naming those that were used most frequently, that seem most
interesting, or whose signification can be most precisely determined.
Those who have seen the Catacombs themselves will call to mind
others of which we have not spoken, but we think their meaning is
generally obvious so as to need no explanation. We will name one
class only of these paintings; those in which our Lord and His
Blessed Mother appear. Our readers will hardly expect to find
anything that pretends to be a portrait of either one or the other. We
have seen that the disposition in primitive Christian art was to
represent facts rather than persons, and the mystery which the facts
signified rather than the facts themselves. Christ, therefore, appears
most commonly in the typical character of the Good Shepherd, and
as such is represented in appropriate form and with suitable
accessories, or He sits in the midst of His Apostles, with a chest of
volumes at His feet, as the Great Teacher of the world. Once,
indeed, His head and bust form a medallion occupying the centre of
a roof in a chamber of the Cemetery of St. Domitilla, the same in
which appear Orpheus and his lyre. It is a work of the third century;
there is more evidence of an intention to give a definite individual
type of countenance, neither is the type altogether unlike that which
the practice of later ages has consecrated by traditional usage.
Nevertheless others of the fourth century are evidently not copies of
the same model, so that it is clear that in those early days there was
no uniform agreement upon the subject.