Page 20 of Mated to the Mountain Bear (Bear Protector #1)

BEN

T he cabin feels too small. It’s felt that way since she arrived, but this afternoon, it’s suffocating.

And so, I’m staying outside, away from her scent and away from the temptation to do something idiotic.

Like throw caution to the wind and get lost in my mate.

The afternoon sun is warm despite the mountain altitude. I head straight for the woodpile, already shrugging out of my shirt and hanging it on a nearby branch.

The familiar weight of the axe feels good in my hands. Necessary. I’m ready to burn off some energy in a far healthier way than my bear is suggesting every time he sees Zara in my clothes, especially now that we know what’s underneath.

Absolute fucking perfection.

I set the first log and swing. The rhythmic crack of splitting wood echoes through the clearing, disturbing a few birds in nearby trees.

As time goes on, I continue splitting log after log, with more force than necessary. Sweat drips down my back, soaking the waistband of my jeans.

I’ll have enough firewood to last two winters at this rate, but I need the physical outlet. Clearly, if last night was anything to go by.

I need something to do with my hands that isn’t touching her. Or myself.

She’s made herself comfortable on the porch with Jerry whose legs are curled under her in a way that makes her look even smaller. Her long hair moves with each breath of wind, and she smiles as she scratches my dog behind the ear.

The smug son of a bitch is enjoying every second of her attention. Jerry’s got his massive head in her lap, shameless in his affection. His tail sweeps lazily across the weathered porch boards, and I swear, he looks right at me, opening one eye in victory, staring me down.

I’m not sure if there’s anything more pathetic than being jealous of your own dog, but here I am.

And my perverted mind can’t stop thinking about her curves under my shirt, and her skin. Soft skin that was rosy and golden as she stood in my tub, slippery and wet, and so fucking gorgeous, that it made my teeth hurt.

With a curse, I drag my eyes away and focus on what I’m doing.

I’m not looking at her again, I tell myself. I’m not noticing how she bites her lip when I bring the axe down. Just like I’m not aware of how her eyes follow the movement, tracking the flex of my muscles, and the swing of the blade through the air.

Or how she called it hot when she was whispering to Jerry just now, thinking she’s well out of earshot. For a human, yes, but not for a shifter like me with enhanced hearing.

My bear doesn’t think she’s whispering to Jerry, he thinks she’s teasing me. And he’s loving every second.

“Is it always like this?” she asks Jerry, leaning close, her full lips practically brushing his ear as she speaks, her fingers digging into the thick coat behind his ears. “Does he always work this hard?”

Jerry vocalises loudly in response, tail thumping against the wooden boards with a steady rhythm.

“That’s what I thought. Very intense. The strong silent type.” She shifts on the step, adjusting positions, but cradles his head so as not to disturb him.

“Maybe tall, dark, and grumpy works better for him.”

I bring the axe down harder. Crack. Another log splits clean through, the pieces falling to either side of the chopping block.

“Those arms though,” she murmurs, then I see her straighten from the corner of my eye, her hand stilling on Jerry’s fur, afraid I might have heard.

Reassured now that I’m too far away, and I would be if I were a mere human, she clears her throat and continues.

“I mean, it’s very impressive. The wood chopping. Very... hot.”

My bear preens. She likes our strength.

“Is it weird that I love all the sweat? It makes me want to lick him. I bet he tastes all manly, too.”

Jerry gives her some serious side-eye.

“Maybe it’s just been way too long since I’ve gotten laid.”

Fuck.

I grab another log from the pile, positioning it carefully on the block. The sun catches the blade as I raise the axe overhead, imagining it’s the last man who touched her, as I split the wood wide open in one angry blow.

She’s still watching. I can feel the weight of her gaze over my skin, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, but I’m determined to ignore her presence.

She has me feeling out of control and reckless, and I don’t like it.

So, I purposefully don’t look when she stands up and stretches, my pants riding low on her hips, so low, I’d bet money her clean panties are still sitting folded on her bed.

She’s definitely going commando.

Fuckity FUCK.

I pretend to be completely engrossed in what I’m doing as she pads down the steps and wanders around the porch, looking at the flowers. When I miss a log completely, I give my head a shake, and my bear a telling off.

I’ll lose a finger if I keep this up. Enhanced healing powers can only do so much. Regrowing severed limbs is probably a step too far. I need to pay attention.

After another few minutes, I glance up between swings and find the porch empty. And the garden is empty, too, except for Jerry, who’s sprawled out on his back in a patch of sunlight, his white belly almost glowing.

“Where’d she go?”

Jerry opens one eye, ice blue and knowing, then closes it again. His tail gives one lazy thump. Useless.

I set the axe down, leaning it against the chopping block, and listen. Nothing.

Scanning the tree-line, I look for any sign of movement among the shadows between the pines. She couldn’t have gone far. Wouldn’t have, not after what happened to her. But she’s not in my line of sight, and I don’t like it.

“You were supposed to watch her,” I tell Jerry, who yawns in response, showing all his teeth.

My skin crawls with a feeling of wrongness. It’s strange here without her voice filling the silence, and her presence in the background. I wait, but there’s still nothing more than the rustle of the trees on a breeze, and the distant call of a crow.

“Zara?” I call out, trying to keep the concern out of my voice. No response. Just the echo of my voice.

I curse. My bear doesn’t like not knowing where she is, and he’s pissed off at me now that we’ve lost her.

“Go find her,” I tell Jerry, nudging his haunches with my boot as I glance inside the cabin, already knowing from her scent that she hasn’t gone inside. He finally bothers to stand, stretching lazily, spine arching like a cat. “Go on.”

He trots off toward the treeline, nose to the ground and tail high.

I follow, sniffing the air, agreeing with his choice of direction. My boots crunch over pine needles and dried leaves as I walk faster, pretending I’m not worried. She’s fine, probably just needed a walk and some space from my crabby ass.

But my bear is getting more and more agitated, pacing inside me like a caged animal.

She shouldn’t wander off, not when someone’s after her. I can scent her and track her and tell which way she meandered through the dense forest, but she’s still too far away for my liking.

I find her by the creek, sitting on a fallen log that’s worn smooth by years of weather. She’s tossing pebbles into the water then watching the ripples spread before disappearing in the current.

Jerry’s already there, his bulk leaning against her leg, getting her trousers muddy. She doesn’t seem to care.

“You shouldn’t wander off.”

She jumps slightly when she hears my voice, hand going to her chest, then looks up at me.

The dappled sunlight through the canopy plays across her face, highlighting the gold in her hair.

The cut to my tone would be enough to scare most people, but she just smiles up at me, skin glowing, looking like she hasn’t got a care in the world.

“I didn’t go far.” With one eye closed against the glare, she tilts her head, confused.

“Far enough.” I growl, fear making me angry. “I couldn’t see you.”

Jerry shoves his snout under her hand, and she pets him absentmindedly as she looks around.

“I just needed...” She gestures vaguely at the peaceful scene surrounding us with babbling water and swaying ferns. “You were busy, and I didn’t want to bother you. You seemed… tense. I get that this is an inconvenience for you. And I’m acting a little… strange.”

Tense, maybe. And strange, also, yes. And with good reason, but one I just can’t tell her about for now.

“I’m not a talker, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like… company… or… you.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“I’m just not used to sharing my space.”

The late afternoon air has a chill to it now that we’re in the shade of the trees. She’s not wearing enough layers. Already, her arms have goosebumps rising on the exposed skin.

“So, no more wandering off. I’m supposed to be protecting you, and I can’t do that if I don’t know where you are.” I shrug out of my fleece, the cool air hitting my damp neck, and hold it out to her. “Put this on.”

“I’m fine...” She doesn’t take it, stubborn as always.

I keep my arm extended. She’s not fine, she’s just too polite to complain. Like the damn water heater I should have fixed the minute she arrived.

“You’re cold. Take it.” My bear isn’t happy that I have to battle with her every time I offer her something.

Food. A bath. Our bed. She fights my attempts to take care of her at every turn.

He doesn’t understand that she doesn’t know, doesn’t have a clue about shifters or mates or the supernatural world at all.

I gather the fleece up and hold the collar open, like a parent dressing a toddler, and she gives me an exasperated chuckle before shoving her head through the hole, laughing as I help her into it.

The fleece swallows her, just like everything else of mine. My fingers brush her wrists as I turn the sleeves up carefully, standing far too close for comfort.

“You can take the things you want; you know that, right? Without apologising for wanting them.” I let my thumb slide over her pulse, loving how it speeds up at my touch. “Your sister might have been the star, but you’re just as important. Let me take care of you.”

She goes very still, barely breathing. I can hear her pulse flutter. Is it fear or the same giddy nervousness I feel whenever I get close to her?

“There.” I turn up the collar to protect her neck from the biting wind that’s picked up since we came outside. My fingers graze the soft skin behind her ear, and she moans, barely audible, but enough to have my bear paying attention.

I do it again, and she shivers, looking up at me with those big, expressive eyes.

We both freeze. Time seems to stop. Even the creek’s sounds fade as I breathe her in, my bear pushing forward with every tempting taste of her scent on his tongue.

My other hand comes up to rest on her hip, ever so gently, and she sways toward me, moving closer, not pulling away.

“Ben…” Her sweet, sultry voice luring me closer is what snaps me out of my daze.

What the hell am I doing?

I step back abruptly, shoving my hands in my pockets before they can do something out of line, like trace the gentle curve of her jaw, or tip her chin up and kiss her.

“We should get you inside. It’s getting dark.”

A line appears between her eyebrows as she frowns, but she says nothing, just turns to lead the way back to the cabin on the narrow trail.

Jerry trots between us, occasionally stopping to sniff something he finds interesting.

We walk back in silence, our footsteps muffled by the carpet of leaves, but it’s not the same awkwardness from this morning. This time, it’s different. Charged. Like the air before a thunderstorm.

It’s already been one hell of a day, but it’s not over yet.

My bear is alert and senses something coming our way. I just pray it’s only some bad weather, but just in case it’s not, my girl’s going to be ready.