Page 10 of Mated to the Mountain Bear (Bear Protector #1)

BEN

T he afternoon stretches on, long and uncomfortable, after our confrontation about the TV. I keep my nose in my book, pretending to read, while she emerges from the bedroom and moves quietly through the cabin.

I hear her puttering in the kitchen. Cupboards open and close as she takes a mug. A spoon clinks against ceramic.

From behind my book, I watch her drift through the living room. She pauses at the bookshelf, fingers hovering over spines, but not pulling anything out. Next, she moves to the window and stares out at the mountains for a long moment before deciding to venture outside.

The front door opens and closes with a soft click.

I turn another page, determined to give her space, but too distracted to read. But as the minutes tick by, my bear grows increasingly agitated. At first, I ignore him, stubbornly clinging to the idea that some alone time is nice to have, but I can’t focus.

Finally, I admit defeat and set the book aside with a frustrated groan, heading for the door.

She’s still sitting on the top porch step, coffee mug cradled in her hands. The late evening sun has turned everything golden, but she’s not admiring the view. Her gaze is fixed on the empty driveway stretching down the hill.

I lean against the porch post, arms folded across my chest, as I stare at her drooped shoulders, her palpable sadness making my bear whine. “It’s getting cold out here.”

She doesn’t turn. “It’s fine.”

It’s clearly not fine. She shivers but doesn’t move.

“What are you doing, Zara?”

She looks so tiny, so vulnerable, it makes me want to pick her up and carry her inside.

“Waiting for Beau.”

Something twists in my gut. I move closer, boots heavy on the wood. “Why?”

“You said one night. ” She glances up at me. “Last night when I arrived. You said one night. ONE. NIGHT .”

When she imitates my deep voice, the memory of my angry words hits hard. I did say that, but we all know I didn’t mean it.

I already told her she was staying here until it’s done. “You’re not leaving while he’s still out there.”

Just the idea of her returning home without knowing this guy is off the streets makes my blood pressure rise. It’s not going to happen.

Zara’s gaze flicks to me, annoyed by my bossy tone. “You said Beau will come if he has news.”

The urge to just carry her inside gets stronger, but I force myself to be patient, not a quality that bear shifters are known for.

“I said that.” I take a deep breath and sit on the step beside her, stretching my legs out and staring at the pretty orange sky. “But sitting out here freezing to death won’t make him appear any sooner.”

Beau will work twenty-four hours a day until this case is done.

“But it might take him some time.”

She looks back at the empty road, processing this new reality. Clearly, she was hoping he’d be able to work miracles. Setting her mug aside, she wraps her arms around her knees.

“Come inside,” I say. “I’ll get a fire going.”

As I climb to my feet, those big green eyes look up at me again, and my chest cracks wide open. I want to make everything better for her. I can tell she’s a good person who doesn’t deserve any of this.

“Okay.” Her tiny voice nearly brings me to my knees.

Extending a hand, I force my expression to stay neutral as she slips hers into mine and allows me to pull her to her feet. My bear practically purrs, loving the sensation of her skin against mine, and the sparks that light up inside me at her touch.

With a small smile, she follows me in, moving like someone in a dream. I busy myself tending to the fire while she curls into the corner of the couch, still wearing my flannel from this morning, and now watching the fire catch and grow.

I’m relieved we’ve patched things up, which is a new feeling for me. Normally, I couldn't care less about what someone thinks of me.

“Dinner’s on the stove,” I tell her. “If you’re hungry.”

She shakes her head, looking pale and tired. It’s not just last night that’s taken its toll on her. It’s been a long few weeks. “Maybe later.”

My bear doesn’t like that response, wanting me to force-feed her until some colour comes back into her cheeks, and some light in her eyes.

Instead, I watch her as she stares blankly at the dancing flames; the shadows flickering on her beautiful face, my flannel slipping off one shoulder to give me a glimpse of tanned skin.

The cabin fills with the crackle of burning wood. Neither of us speaks, but the silence feels different now. It’s cosy, and it feels like we’re both finally adjusting to this new living arrangement.

Time passes. The sun sets completely, leaving us in the warm glow of firelight. I notice her eyelids drooping, and her body relaxing into the cushions.

“I keep thinking I’ll wake up,” she murmurs, half asleep. “And this will all be some weird dream. Amber will call, laughing about some audition disaster. My biggest worry will be which coffee shop to meet her at. Not police or stalkers.”

Her voice trails off. Within minutes, her breathing deepens into sleep, the effects of the last two days finally catching up with her.

I watch her for a moment, my bear rumbling quietly, loving that she trusts us enough to be so vulnerable in our presence.

She looks much younger while she’s sleeping, and fragile, but much as I love watching over her, I can’t leave her there. Her injuries are still healing, and the couch will leave her sore and stiff, but carrying her to bed feels too intimate. Too much like something I have no right to do.

My bear disagrees and decides for me. I set my book aside and carefully gather her into my arms. She weighs almost nothing, even dead asleep. Her head lolls against my chest, and she makes a soft sound that stops me cold, resting a hand against my chest.

A whimper.

“Shhh,” I murmur without thinking, leaning down to bury my nose in her hair. “You’re safe.”

She settles, fingers curling into my shirt. Trusting me, even in sleep.

I carry her to the bedroom, then lay her gently on the bed. Pull the covers up to her chin.

She immediately curls onto her side, burrowing into the warmth.

My bear likes the sight of her there, cosy and comfortable, in my den. It’s her, he whispers. But I ignore him, unwilling to entertain his nonsense.

She’s human. She can’t be ours.

I turn to leave when her hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist. Her eyes are still closed, but her grip is desperate.

“Don’t,” she mumbles, still mostly asleep.

“It’s okay,” I tell her, trying to extract my wrist. “You’re safe.”

But her grip tightens. She pulls, surprisingly strong for someone so small, and I have to brace myself on the mattress to keep from falling onto her.

“Stay,” she whispers. “Please, just... stay.”

My bear rumbles loudly, and her eyes flutter open, unfocused and glassy with sleep. For a moment, we’re both frozen like that, me, half bent over her, with her fingers wrapped around my wrist and our faces too close.

Her gaze drops to my lips first, then awareness crashes into her expression. Her eyes go wide, and her hold on me loosens.

“I...” She releases me like I’m on fire and scoots back in the bed. “I’m sorry. I thought you were...”

She doesn’t finish, doesn’t need to. She thought I was her sister.

I straighten. She didn’t want me to stay. It was stupid to think she would.

“Get some sleep.”

I’m supposed to mind her. This is temporary. I’m not supposed to get attached just because she looks pretty in my bed and smells like heaven.

“Ben...”

But I’m already at the door, needing distance between us. The ghost of her fingers on my skin burns like a brand.

I liked it way too much.

“What?” My voice comes out rougher than intended, and when Zara takes a moment to answer, I feel like shit.

“Nothing. Just... thank you.”

Godamnit.

I close the door without responding and stand in the hallway, hand still on the knob. Inside, I hear her shifting, settling, and then nothing.

My wrist still tingles where she grabbed me, and as I rub my palm over the spot, my bear rumbles in delight. He might just be right.

And if he is, this is going to be a major problem.

Fucking Beau.