Page 23

Chapter 22

Carina

T hen Horace stands, and I instinctively take a step back, my body reacting before my brain can catch up.

Only, I should have known better than that.

He is right there.

His big, warm hands find my waist in an instant, steadying me before I can so much as sway.

A shiver runs down my spine, not from fear, but from the sheer electricity that ignites under my skin whenever he touches me.

“Did you mean that, Carina?”

His voice is low, almost reverent, like he’s afraid of the answer.

I nod, no hesitation. “Yes.”

There’s no point in pretending.

We both know exactly what he’s talking about.

The tension between us is thick, humming with a current of unspoken things.

Horace exhales sharply, his fingers tightening just a fraction against my waist. “I am so sorry I jumped the gun. I should have explained first?—”

“Maybe,” I say, cutting him off gently as I press my hand to his chest, right over the frantic thunder of his heartbeat, “you can explain now?”

He nods, swallowing hard, and covers my hand with his own.

The moment he does, a deep rumbling vibration rolls through his chest—low, primal, unmistakably other.

I freeze, eyes widening in awe.

“Is-is that your Bear?” I whisper, feeling that magical, animalistic sound reverberate through my palm.

“Yes,” Horace says, his voice hoarse. “He wants to be near you, too.”

Something in my chest melts at that.

I smile, unable to hold it back, my heart stammering in my ribs.

“Okay,” I murmur. “Let’s talk.”

I lead him to the large three-cushion sofa near the window, pointing to the spot where I want him to sit. He obeys immediately, watching me with dark, hungry eyes as I lower myself beside him, turning to face him fully.

I shift, suddenly aware of the weight of his jacket still draped over my shoulders.

“Oh, um, I’m warm. Is it okay?” I ask, already sliding it off.

Horace’s eyes flick to my movement, and his cheeks darken, his jaw clenching.

“Shit,” he mutters, running a large, calloused hand through his already-mussed hair. “Yes, I’m sorry. Uh, my Bear, that is, he didn’t like having you undressed in front of so many people.”

My lips part in delight.

“So your Bear is possessive of me?” I ask, my inner book-lover swooning.

Holy cow.

Book-girl fantasies, unlocked.

My pulse kicks up, pounding so hard I’m surprised he can’t hear it.

Horace exhales heavily, eyes burning into mine. “Um, yeah. Well, not just my Bear.”

His fingers flex, like he’s physically restraining himself from touching me.

“Me,” he says, voice thick with raw emotion. “I need you so damn much, Carina.”

My breath catches.

“Because the Fates said so?” I ask softly, searching his expression.

His face hardens, and he shakes his head. Vehemently.

“No.” His voice is fierce, cutting through the air like steel. “I mean, Shifter lore is a lot like—like Plato’s The Symposium !”

“Plato?”

“Yeah, do you know it?”

“Actually, I read parts of that in college,” I say.

“Well, remember the part where he believed that when two parted souls meet, they know instantly that they belong together?” Horace asks, and I nod.

“That part is real, Carina. But the Fates don’t control us. We still have free will.”

My lips part slightly. “So, you think we are what? Like soulmates?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t hesitate. “Our love is written in the stars. You are it for me. I know it might take you a minute to feel that way, too, but I believe in us. We are meant to be together. But that doesn’t mean we don’t have choices.”

He leans in closer, his presence overwhelming, his warmth all-consuming.

“The Fates can only put us on the path,” he murmurs, “it’s up to us to lead the way.”

My chest tightens, a lump forming in my throat.

“But what if you find someone else or decide we don’t work?—”

“Sweetheart, you are the only one for me. I swear to you, that will never happen.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, and fuck, I feel so vulnerable.

“I am a thousand percent sure. I don’t want anyone else. I never will. What about you? What do you choose?”

Horace asks, and I swear, I see his Bear pacing in the glitter of his impossibly dark gaze.

“So, you are saying we really do have a choice?” I whisper. “To leave if we want. Or,” I pause and suck in a breath, “to stay.”

Horace nods. And his entire body tenses.

His knuckles whiten where he grips his own thighs, his muscles locking like he’s physically bracing himself for what I might say next.

“My Bear has already claimed you as mine,” he admits, his voice hoarse. “And without you, it’s true, I’d likely lose control. But to answer your earlier question?—”

His dark eyes burn into mine, filled with devotion, longing, and something terrifyingly deep.

“I am very possessive of you, Sweetheart,” he murmurs. “But not for any other reason than I am completely in love with you.”

A sharp, involuntary gasp leaves my lips.

His jaw tightens, his hands clenching into fists like he’s desperately waiting for my response.

Fated or not, his love is real.

And it wrecks me.

“I love you,” he says hoarsely, his breath hitching. “You’re my whole heart, Carina, and I will always choose you.”

I can hardly breathe.

The picture he makes sitting there, coiled tight, his entire body on edge, waiting for me to say something— anything.

Like he might shatter if I don’t.

It touches me.

And I don’t want him to break.

I just want him.

“I choose you, too,” I whisper.

Horace gasps.

Like the air has been knocked from his lungs.

Then, before I can blink, his arms are around me, pulling me close, and I go willingly.

Willfully.

Tears slip down my cheeks, but I don’t care.

All I care about is him.

This is too fast.

All of it.

But the fact is, I love him.

And that’s the only truth that matters.

“I love you too, Sweetheart,” he growls, his voice raw, desperate, and full of need.

Then his mouth crashes onto mine, claiming me completely, irrevocably, as if I am the only thing in the world he will ever need.