Page 26 of Mated to the Mountain Bear (Bear Protector #1)

ZARA

T he cabin feels too quiet after Beau’s visit.

Ben’s been on the porch for the last hour, sharpening tools with methodical precision.

I’m pretending to read in the living room, but really, I’m watching him through the window, noting the tension in his shoulders.

Which is probably a result of my rather somber mood since Beau and Mason left.

I’m disappointed, even though it’s probably unreasonable to expect him to find this guy in just a few days when the police haven’t been able to do it in almost four weeks. Still, I was hoping for answers, and the prospect of never getting any is becoming a real possibility the more time passes.

Jerry lies at his feet, occasionally lifting his head to track a bird or distant sound before settling back down.

Finally, Ben sets down the whetstone and looks toward the window, catching me watching. He comes inside, pausing in the doorway to rest one thick forearm against the frame while he takes me in. “Want to see something?”

I close my book immediately. “Yes.”

A small smile tugs at his lips. “You don’t even know what it is.”

“Doesn’t matter.” I stand, tugging down the hem of my shirt. “You’re voluntarily showing me something. That’s enough.”

He studies me, then nods toward the hooks by the door. “We’ll need jackets. It gets cold when the sun goes down.”

I follow his lead, trying not to get too excited about what’s in store. It could be a second generator. But then he surprises me by also taking a thick blanket from the closet.

“Where are we going?” Now I care.

“You’ll see.”

Outside, instead of heading toward any of the paths we’ve explored before, he goes to the side of the cabin where a ladder leans against the wall. I hadn’t noticed it before, tucked between the rainwater barrel and a stack of lumber.

“We’re going up?” I look at the roof dubiously.

“Trust me.” He tests the ladder’s stability, then gestures for me to climb. “I’ll be right behind you.”

The ladder is sturdy, but I’m grateful for his presence below, as I carefully make my way up. “Please tell me you didn’t bring me up here to fix the shingles.”

It’s a joke, but as I say it, I’m actually worried that’s what we’re doing.

But when I reach the top, I see exactly why he brought me here.

It’s magical.

Ben has created a small sitting area on a flat section of the roof. There’s a simple wooden platform positioned perfectly to look out over the valley from this heightened position above the treetops. The view is breathtaking. Mountains stretch endlessly in layers of dark blue and purple.

“Ben, this is...” I trail off as he joins me on the roof, spreading the blanket on the platform.

“I come up here sometimes,” he says, not quite meeting my eyes. “To think.”

We settle on the blanket, thighs almost touching, and I’m too choked up to speak. I’ve never seen anything like it.

Jerry appears below, sniffing around the base of the cabin, before wandering toward the treeline, nose to the ground.

“You built this?” I gesture at the platform.

“A few years back. Sometimes, the cabin feels too small.”

I understand that. The need for space, for perspective. “It’s perfect.”

We sit in comfortable silence as the sky continues to darken. The temperature drops, as Ben predicted, and I shiver. Without asking, Ben shifts closer, his shoulder pressed to mine, his warmth against my side.

“I’ve been thinking about what Beau said,” I say eventually. “About Amber.”

Ben doesn’t respond, just waits. It’s one thing I appreciate about him—he doesn’t fill silence with meaningless words. He listens.

“I was supposed to go with her that night.” The confession comes out quietly. “To the callback. But I’d already made plans with friends, and she’d said it was fine, that she could go alone.” I pull my knees up, wrapping my arms around them. “If I’d been there...”

“You can’t think like that.” Ben’s response is instant, certain.

“Can’t I?” I turn to look at him, emotion welling up inside me at how lucky I am to have met him. That he willingly took me in. “She’s missing, and I’m here. Safe. Protected.” My voice cracks slightly. “Laughing with your brothers. Enjoying this view. How is that fair?”

Ben’s features soften. “You being miserable won’t help bring her back.”

“I know that. Logically, I know that. But...” I stare out at the sky, vast and full of possibility. For me.

“But the survivor's guilt doesn’t care about logic,” he finishes.

I look at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

Amber’s not dead. She might still be found.

“I left.” His jaw tightens, not comfortable talking about the Lennox family’s chequered past. “But not all of my brothers did. Some are still neck-deep in that life. Every time one of them gets arrested or hurt, I wonder if I could have changed things by staying.”

“That’s different.”

“Is it?” He turns to face me fully. “We both escaped something that other people we care about haven’t.”

The first stars begin to appear, pinpricks of light in the darkening sky. I lean back on my hands, tilting my face up to see them better. With no light pollution to disrupt our view, it seems like there are millions of them.

“Amber would love this,” I whisper. “She used to make me lie with her on a blanket in our back garden, finding constellations. I never could see what she saw, but she’d trace them with her finger until I pretended I could.”

Ben shifts, lying back on the blanket. After a moment, I join him, our fingers touching. The sky spreads endlessly above us, more stars appearing with each passing moment.

“There,” he says, pointing. “The Big Dipper.”

I follow his finger but shake my head. “I just see dots.”

He takes my hand, extending my finger to trace the pattern. “Start here. See the four stars that make the cup? Then three more for the handle.”

His hand is warm over mine, carefully guiding it. “Oh, I see it. I actually see it.”

“And there’s Polaris. The North Star. Follow the line from the cup’s edge.”

We spend the next few minutes finding constellations, his patient guidance helping me see what I’ve never been able to find on my own. His hand stays over mine, and I’m hyperaware of every point of contact.

“Thank you,” I say eventually. I needed this. Ben’s cabin has been like therapy. If it weren’t for the stalker who forced me here, I’d recommend it to everyone.

He turns his head to look at me, and suddenly, the distance between us seems to vanish. How did we end up this close? I’m drawn to him in a way I’ve never experienced before. I can’t seem to help myself.

“Zara… fuck.” He sits up, pulling away, looking anguished. “We shouldn’t. You’re in a vulnerable position. I’m supposed to be protecting you, not...”

I follow him up, my heart hammering. “Not what?”

When he looks at me, hungry, and eyes fixed on my mouth, I know. Because it’s everything I want, too.

“Not wanting things I can’t have.” His fingers twitch. “You’re scared, your life is in limbo, and you’re depending on me for safety. Whatever you think you’re feeling might not be…”

I kiss him. I reach out, grab him by the front of his shirt, and kiss him.

It’s impulsive and probably stupid, but I can’t listen to him talk himself out of this. My lips meet his mid-sentence, cutting off his words. For a moment, he’s completely still, frozen in surprise, and still torn about what the right thing to do is.

Then his hand comes up to cup the back of my neck, and he’s kissing me back, with an intensity that steals my breath. This is hunger and need and weeks of suppressed want.

He angles my head, deepening the kiss, and I melt into him. His other hand slides into my hair, holding me like I’m something precious and necessary. When his tongue traces the seam of my lips, I open for him without hesitation.

I’ve been kissed before, but never like this. Never like he’s been starving for the taste of me. My hands fist in his clothes, pulling him even closer, and he makes a sound low in his throat that sends heat racing through me.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. His hands are still in my hair, his forehead resting against mine.

“This is...” he starts.

“Perfect,” I whisper, really meaning it.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, searching my face in the starlight. Whatever he finds there seems to break his last resistance.

“Fate,” he says, the word carrying certainty, the promise of a future, that makes me crave him even more.

He kisses me again, slower this time, but no less intense. His hands map my face like he’s memorising me by touch. I shift closer, practically in his lap now, and he groans against my mouth.

“Zara.” My name is a prayer on his lips. “My Zara.”

Somewhere to the rear of the house, Jerry barks, sharp, aggressive, and territorial. A bark I’ve never heard from him before.

“Do you think he found a rabbit?”

Ben goes rigid, his head snapping up. In one fluid motion, he’s on his feet, pulling me up with him.

“What’s…”

“Shhh.” His entire demeanour has changed. Gone is the man who was kissing me senseless. This is the protector, the scary Ben who wanted to keep me at bay, the one who burst in twice to rescue me.

Jerry’s barking intensifies, and he comes racing out of the woods, tail low, hackles raised. He positions himself at the base of the ladder, staring at the tree-line.

“We need to get inside. Now.” Ben moves to the edge of the platform.

“Okay, but…”

Before I can ask what’s going on, he’s vaulted over the platform rail and drops to the ground with a grace that shouldn’t be possible. He lands in a crouch, barely making a sound, then immediately straightens, arms up toward me.

“Jump, Zara. Now.”

“But the ladder…” I glance at the ladder, disappearing into the inky darkness at the side of the house and then back to Ben, who’s standing with arms out, ready to catch me.

My heart is in my throat, but I trust him. God help me, I trust him completely. I swing my legs over the rail, take a breath, and let myself fall.

He catches me as if I weigh nothing, absorbing the impact without even staggering. For a moment, I’m cradled against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

“Inside,” he orders, setting me on my feet but keeping one arm around me.

Jerry backs toward us, still growling. Ben positions himself between me and the forest, herding me toward the door. The darkness between the trees seems deeper now, more ominous.

We’re almost to the cabin when I see it, a flash of movement in the shadows. Watching.

“Is it… is that the bear?”