Page 71 of Sweet Heart for the Bear

“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. Wearemeant 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.

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