Page 66 of Bear Naked Truth
Something watching. The house knew what was coming.
He stood just outside the circle, watching Autumn as she lit the last of the ward candles. Her hands were steady, but he could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her jaw flexed when she thought no one was looking. She wore the moonstone necklace he’d made her, the pendant catching the candlelight and throwing it back in soft pulses. She looked like a spell in motion—quiet, powerful, full of intention.
He didn’t breathe until she met his eyes.
“You ready?” he asked, voice low.
“As I’ll ever be.”
They’d talked it through. Every step. Every symbol. Every breath that would need to be shared. But rituals had a way of ignoring instructions when the emotions behind them ran this deep.
Dorian couldn’t stop the protective instinct that surged up. He didn’t try to. He just stepped closer, hand brushing hers.
“I’ll be right here,” he said. “No matter what.”
Autumn nodded, then stepped into the circle.
The temperature dropped immediately. Not a gust. Not a breeze. But apresence. Like the room was now breathing with them. Or without them.
She knelt at the center, palms flat against the sigil-marked rug, her voice soft as she began the invocation. The words were old, sacred, older than either of them had ever dared to speak aloud and they unfurled from her lips like smoke, curling through the air and catching fire in the symbols around her.
Dorian didn’t know how long he stood there, watching her command something so much bigger than either of them with such calm resolve. It scared him.
And it awed him.
The roomshuddered.
The candles flickered violently. The wind began to push in through the shutters, though none had opened. The walls groaned. Then the cold hit him in the chest like a punch. Autumn gasped.
She clutched her ribs, eyes wide. The chalk lines began to glow brighter, humming low and sharp.
Dorian took a step forward, hand out. “Autumn?—”
“Don’t break the circle,” she hissed.
He stopped himself mid-step, growling low under his breath. His bear stirred beneath his skin, pushing upward like it could sense what was coming.
Then the shadowsmoved.They coalesced in the corner, where the light didn’t reach. Slowly taking shape. Tall. Slender. And heart-wrenchingly sad.
Hollis.
The Hollow Man.
But this wasn’t like the flickers they’d seen before, this was full form. Eyes dark and hollow, grief etched into every shadowed line of his face. His mouth opened, and the air dropped again.
“You cannot keep what is not yours,”he said. Not shouted. Not growled. Just… stated. Like it was law.
Autumn shuddered but didn’t break eye contact. “No one’s trying to take anything. But you don’t have to haunt this anymore.”
Hollis stepped forward, and the circle flared bright in warning.
That’s when Dorian’s bodyshifted.No conscious thought. No permission.
The bear pushed forward hard, shoulders splitting wider, breath ragged as fur rippled down his arms and his spine curved into something feral and full of fire. He roared once, deep and furious, and moved near the lines etched for the circle, placing his massive body between Hollis and Autumn.
He didn’t step inside. Didn’t break the ritual. But hedaredthe spirit to try.
Hollis faltered just slightly.
