Page 6 of Rose's Untamed Bear

Fool girl!Magnus snarled.

Glorious, Derrick whispered, half-mad with pride. Gods, I love her.

The pack broke. I tore into their leader until the forest, untouched by the brutal act that had just taken place, fell silent.

And then, Rose laughed. Wild, unbroken, beautiful. She dropped to her knees in the slush, her cheeks flushed, her eyes blazing. “You’re bloody glorious!” she shouted. “Did you see their faces?”

I should have been offended. I should have counseled her on reckless behavior. Instead, something inside me cracked. I pressed my head to her chest, desperate to confirm shewas whole. Her arms came around me instantly, without fear, without hesitation.

She’s holding us, Derrick groaned, every part of him yearning for more.Let me out. Let me hold her back. Please.

Magnus bristled. She belongs with neither beast nor man. Don’t forget what we are.

I can’tnotwant her.

Her heartbeat thundered against my ear, fast as my own, and I let myself sink into the heat of her, the scent of her, smoke and snow and something softer I had no name for. My fur drank in her warmth, but my mind betrayed me: I felt hands instead of paws, flesh instead of hide.

She kissed my brow, reckless as ever. Fire streaked through me, fur giving way in my mind’s eye to flesh, to hands that remembered the shape of her waist, her face. For one unbearable instant, I was Derrick again, standing in the ruin of wolves, aching to crush her to me and to never let go.

She whispered against my ear, “My hero.”

It destroyed me.

By the time we limped back to the cabin, my body was whole enough, but my heart was wrecked. Snow’s wide eyes darted between us, searching for wounds, but Rose only laughed, tossing her mane and the furs she scavenged from the dead wolves. “He saved me. And I saved him.”

She poked my shoulder like I was a dog who’d done a neat trick. “You’re a good bear.”

I closed my eyes, but Derrick inside me whispered what the bear could not:I would give anything to be a man again.

Mother’s ladle hovered over the simmering stew when a cold droplet splashed her cheek. She pressed her lips into a tight line and glared upward at the rough-hewn rafters. “Saints preserve us,” she muttered, “the roof is leaking already.”

I paused in my work on the wolves’ pelts. Across the wide wooden table, Snow froze mid-stitch, the silver needle poised in the lantern’s glow.

The cottage had grown strangely hushed these last days. Bear—my Bear, though I’d never admit it aloud—had taken to wandering. He slipped away at dawn’s first pale light—or whatever passed for light, in the perpetual winter gloom—and padded back only under the cloak of night. He always returned with his thick coat crusted and cold, each strand of fur dripping icicles that tinkled like little bells. He would grunt in greeting,then lumber to the hearth and settle on the flagstones with a mournful grumble. Snow and I would abandon our tasks to rub him with old woolen towels, coaxing warmth back into his damp hide.

By day, I felt the silence keenly. I craved the heavy comfort of his presence by the fire, his golden eyes glowing as he lay between us, his snorts and grunts filling the empty corners of the room. Without him, the cottage felt like a hollow shell.

Mother’s voice drew me back. “We must mend that leak before the thaw comes, or we’ll all be rowing boats in here.”

“I’ll see to it,” I promised, springing from my stool. My gaze flicked to the rough shelf where the resin jar sat. It was scraped nearly bare, the remaining pitch a sticky smear clinging to the bottom like captured sunlight.

Snow and I exchanged a look as the hearth crackled.Drip—drip—another cold bead plinked into the stew.

“Well,” I said, forcing a bright edge to my tone, “we’ll fetch more.”

Snow’s eyes widened in delight; her pale face lit up in a way I hadn’t seen in weeks. “Truly? It’s been too long since I’ve felt the wind on my cheeks.”

Mother sighed, still swinging her spoon. “It’s bitterly cold out there. Perhaps patching the one leak will do for now?—”

I shook my head and tugged my cloak tight. “Where one gap shows, others lurk hidden. Better to gather enough resin at once, before the thaw turns all to slush.”

Snow was already buckling her boots, excitement dancing in her eyes like tiny stars. Mother’s sigh softened into somethingfond as she touched my cheek. “Very well, my heart. But mind yourselves, the forest is never empty.”

I bent to kiss her fingers. “We will.”

The moment I stepped beyond the doorstep, a perfect silence embraced us. My breath blossomed into mist, and my boots crunched deep into pure white snow. Beside my own prints lay broader, deeper ones, Bear’s. I felt the tug to follow him into the hush, but Snow set off along the winding path toward the pines. I wanted to call after her, then chided myself and rushed to catch up.

The forest welcomed us like a glass cathedral. Frost-laden boughs arched overhead; the branches glittered with icicles that caught stray sunbeams and scattered them like fractured rainbows across the snow. Every footstep sparked a shower of crystalline dust. My heart swelled with wonder.