Page 56 of Mated to the Mountain Bear

“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 tofind 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.