Page 48 of Mated to the Mountain Bear
“Hey. It’s okay. You’re safe,” I say. She’s so kind. She doesn’t deserve this torment.
Her eyes fly open, unfocused and wild in the darkness. For a moment, she doesn’t see me, still trapped in whatever horror was chasing her.
“Ben?” Her voice is small and confused but tinged with relief.
“You were having a nightmare. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
Without hesitation, I gather her into my arms.
She comes willingly, curling into a ball against my chest. Her face presses against my body, and I feel the dampness of tears through my T-shirt.
“It was just a bad dream. I’m here. It’s just you and me, okay?”
I rock her gently, one hand smoothing her hair, while the other holds her close.
She’s so small against me, that she fits perfectly in the circle of my arms. Her racing heartbeat gradually slows to match mine, but she makes no move to remove herself from my lap.
“Stay,” she whispers against my shirt, her fingers still clutching the fabric. “Please, Ben. Just... stay.”
Every rational thought screams at me to leave, to return to the couch and maintain the boundaries that will keep us both safe. Every day is getting harder to resist the bond, but her trembling hasn’t stopped, and the way she’s holding onto me like I’m her hero, makes it impossible to pull away.
“Okay,” I whisper. “I’ll stay.”
I stretch out beside her on top of the covers, needing a barrier between us, and I reach for some pillows to create a wall down the middle of the bed.
But Zara has other ideas. She immediately curls into my side, head on my chest, with one arm draped across my stomach. The trust in that simple gesture humbles me, and my bear approves of her desire to get closer.
“Thank you.” She breathes, already sounding calmer.
My bear rumbles contentedly, the sound vibrating through my chest.
Instead of tensing, she melts further into me, as if the sound soothes her. Her breathing evens out, matching the rhythm of mine.
I lie awake in the darkness and memorise everything. The weight of her against me. The silk of her hair that’s now tickling my chin. The way her fingers have relaxed their death grip on my shirt but still rest there, maintaining contact.
Outside, an owl calls, and the wind whispers through the pines. It’s the calm before the storm I know is coming.
Inside, Zara sleeps peacefully in my arms, with no more nightmares finding her here.
This is dangerous. More dangerous than any threat I’ve known before. Because now, I know what it feels like to hold her, to be with her in the darkness, and I’m not sure I’m strong enough to let go when morning comes.
My bear has no such concerns, however, completely content with our mate in our arms, where she belongs. I remind him she’s not ours, can never be ours, until she knows what we are and is still willing to stay, but he’s not listening.
Just for tonight, I tell myself. We can have this.
Just once.
But as her soft exhale warms my chest, and her body relaxes completely into sleep, I know I’m lying. One night will never be enough. Not with her. Not with my mate.
The hours pass slowly. I track the moon’s path across the sky through the window, listening to her shallow breaths, and feeling the way she occasionally murmurs and burrows closer.
My arm’s gone numb under her, but I wouldn’t move for anything.
Dawn is still hours away when exhaustion finally claims me.
My last coherent thought is that I should leave before she wakes, should re-establish some barriers and pretend this didn’t happen. Only, my bear has other plans.
He’s stubbornly refusing to leave, but I’m too tired—and too happy—to fight him.
