Page 14 of Mated to the Mountain Bear

“Not that it’s my apartment anymore, I have to be out in a week. I was supposed to move in with Amber, but… she couldn’t pay the deposit, for obvious reasons, and …”

For a moment, I think he might say something, but he doesn’t react to my rising hysteria, he just nods and lets me ramble. When I fall silent, he looks back down without a word, reaching for the antiseptic wipes again with deliberate movements.

“This might sting,” is all he says.

I blink hard, confused both by his complete indifference to my mood swings, but I’m too exhausted to keep fighting, so I slump back in the chair and let him do his thing, corded forearms flexing as he works.

He’s massive. His hands are massive. His arms are massive. Even kneeling, he’s eye level with me while I sit in the chair. His shoulders are twice the width of mine. Everything about him screams strength and capability. It’s a powerful aphrodisiac.

“This one’s deeper.” He reaches for a bandage. “It’s going to hurt a bit.”

It does, but I barely notice it . I’m too focused on his hands as he moves on to my other foot, which practically disappears inside his grasp.

“There’s no coverage up here,” I say, and he nods.

He finishes, carefully wrapping each foot in fresh bandages and slipping a giant sock on top. “Other one.”

I switch legs immediately.

“And Beau knew that?” I ask, although I already know the answer.

Ben nods again.

Sighing, I settle deeper into the chair. The adrenaline that’s been coursing through me all night is almost gone, and my nervous system is finally getting the message that I’m safe. Uncontactable, cut off from the rest of the world, but safe.

“Thank you,” I whisper, as Ben slides back, gently lowering my foot to the floor.

He grunts, already focused on my second arm. But I catch the way his touch gets even gentler, if that’s possible, as my eyelids droop, and my blinks become slower and longer.

When he finishes, he stands, and I’m stunned again at how much bigger than me he is as he packs away the first-aid supplies with the same careful precision.

“Now eat.” He gestures at the table beside us where a steamy bowl waits. “Before it gets cold.”

I push the sleeves of his shirt up to my elbows, rolling them carefully, so I can actually use my hands.

The bowl is filled with venison stew, rich and perfect, with a thick wedge of bread that’s still warm. The first bite makes me close my eyes involuntarily and groan.

“Wow, thank you.”

He doesn’t respond, just watches me eat in silence. He’s not rude, or he’s nottryingto be rude, he’s just quiet.

“Your brother said you might take a job with his company,” I say, eager to fill the silence. We should get to know each other a little to make this a bit more pleasant for both of us.

“Not happening.”

The flat refusal is abrupt. I smile. There’s something refreshingly honest about his unique level of bluntness. I doubt he sugarcoats anything.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”

He looks at me then, really looks, like he can see into my soul, and there’s something intense in those dark eyes, glinting amber in the soft light, that makes my breath catch.

“Don’t keep apologising. It’s his fault, not yours.”

I know that rationally, but still. Old habits die hard.

“You need somewhere safe. You’re here. End of story.” He stands abruptly, taking my empty bowl to the sink. “Bedroom’s at the end of the hall,” he says without turning. “Lock works if you want to use it, but you won’t need it. Not out here.”

I glance out the window at the pitch-black forest, and somehow, I believe him. There’s one narrow road leading up the side of the hill. Any approaching headlights would be easy to spot.