Page 34 of Mated to the Mountain Bear (Bear Protector #1)

ZARA

“ Y ou’ll let me go?”

Ben frowns, unhappy but resigned.

“I’m not going to hold you here against your will, Zara.” He’s determined to hold a sensible, adult conversation, but I can’t think about anything other than his broad chest, huge pecs, and the smattering of dark hair that’s travelling down his bulging abs and disappears under the blanket... shit.

Blinking hard, I give myself a mental slap and vow to pull it together. This is serious.

“Can’t you explain to me en route to... anywhere... what all of this means? My brain is about to explode.”

My stalker is here. He tracked me all the way from my home to this tiny cabin in the middle of fucking nowhere. I can’t stay. If he broke into my apartment, with its buzzers and deadbolts, he’ll be able to get in here.

“He’ll just keep following you. He thinks you’re his.”

I bristle at hearing those words. He wrote it in the messages he slipped under my door.

“I haven’t given him any encouragement.”

“You didn’t need to. He’s imprinted on you and thinks you’re his mate.”

When I stare at him blankly, Ben pauses, choosing his words carefully. “Like a soulmate, except much, much stronger. Mates are obsessed with each other. It’s fate, and nothing will keep them apart.”

Fate.

That’s the word he used when he explained what was happening with us.

“But I don’t know him.” I argue weakly, not understanding any of this.

Ben’s expression softens. He crouches down in front of me and takes my hands, my fingers, tiny, wrapped up in his.

“It’s normally scent that determines mates for a wolf. When a wolf gets close to their fated mate, their smell triggers the bond, making them obsessed with mating and marking.” Ben looks genuinely confused. “But... you’re definitely not his mate.”

Ben is adamant that the wolf shifter has it wrong.

“Would I know if I were his... mate?” I ask, trying to wrap my head around the concept.

“Yes,” Ben answers, almost too fast. His thumbs stroke over my knuckles as he speaks, the touch sending sparks up my arms. “Even humans feel it. You’d want him constantly. Need him, like...”

His eyes lock on mine, dark and intense.

“Like air,” I finish, because that’s how I feel about Ben.

He nods. “Like air.”

The words hang between us, and his molten brown eyes stare into mine. It makes no sense, yet bone deep, I know, because I feel like I need this man with all my soul.

“If we spent some time together, would I feel it then...”

“No.”

One word. No room for doubt. Ben’s expression turns fierce, his entire demeanour darkening.

“But if he’s so convinced…”

Ben’s hand shoots out to press a finger to my lips and stops me from saying another word.

“You’re not his, because you’re mine.” He growls, dominance lacing every word, as his possessive gaze bores into mine.

The declaration vibrates through me, settling somewhere deep in my chest. Ben looks furious, but I don’t flinch away. Instead, I press my hands to his chest and let them roam over the expanse of tanned flesh before me, my core quivering in delight.

“Yours,” I repeat, loving the sound of that.

Ben’s eyes fall shut, his chest vibrating under my hands as a deep rumble escapes him. It seems he likes it too.

My hands venture lower, and lower still, until my fingers snag on the top of the blanket.

“He’s going to come back, Zara. I might have scared him away for now, but not forever. We should be preparing.” His voice is strained, like he’s fighting himself as much as warning me.

“What I have planned won’t take long,” I mumble, voice thick with lust.

I smooth my hands down his back, loving the sheer size of him, and the way my hands can’t span the width of his shoulders. My fingertips find fabric again, and I tug experimentally.

“Yes, it fucking will.” He growls before squeezing his eyes shut.

My nails drag along his hip bone and slide down, under the material along the seam of his thigh. A muscle jumps in his jaw.

Ben is conflicted. His hands gripping my hip and buried in my hair, tell me one thing, while his words, his brain, are saying another.

War is playing out behind his eyes, duty versus desire. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

“Then take care of me. Show me what it means to be yours.”

With a loud moan, he hangs his head, his huge shoulders heaving with the effort of keeping his control. I watch the muscles bunch and release as he fights what he wants.

I’m not having that.

Growing brave, I lean forward, and place my lips right next to his ear, feeling him go rigid at the contact. “Please, mate. “

That’s all it takes.

Suddenly, I’m in the air, wrapped up in Ben’s arms, as he strides toward the bedroom. His grip is secure, like I weigh nothing at all, and it makes me giddy to be so easily thrown around by him.

I reach down and tug at the blanket, grinning as the falling material almost trips him. He curses, kicking at it before continuing his march toward his room. Jerry barks once from the living room, probably wondering what all the commotion is about, but doesn’t follow.

The old bed frame creaks in protest as Ben sets me down. I raise up on both elbows and smile at him, while he stares at me from the edge of the room, his chest heaving, eyes filled with want.

The air between us fizzes, and my skin tingles, like the sensation you get right before a big storm. When Ben moves onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, I have a feeling I’m about to get blown away.

He cages me with his arms, so much heat and muscle surrounding me.

“Ben...” His name comes out like a plea.

“I know, baby.” One hand comes up to cup my face, and his thumb strokes my cheekbone.

A howl cuts through the night. Distant but clear. The sound raises goosebumps on my arms.

Ben’s body tenses above me, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he presses closer, shielding me with his body. I feel the barely leashed power in him, the predator just beneath the surface.

“He’s still out there,” I whisper.

“Let him howl.” Ben’s thumb traces my jaw. The touch is gentle, but his eyes are fierce. “He can’t have what’s mine.”