Page 60 of Mated to the Mountain Bear
I force myself to refocus on the hunt. An intruder on my territory. My hands curl into fists, nails biting into my palms. This is my land. He doesn’t belong here.
The fucking audacity makes my vision blur red. He doesn’t know what he’s just unleashed. I’m not some scared woman he’s been tormenting.
This is my territory. My home.
My mate.
The word pounds through me with each heartbeat. My bear has known from the start, but now, every cell in my bodyrecognises the truth. She’s mine to protect, mine to keep safe. And this bastard has been terrorising her, making her afraid to live. He’s going to pay for every nightmare, every moment of fear he’s caused her.
The trail winds through dense pines. Too straight. Too sure. No stumbling over roots, no veering around obstacles. Just a steady path leading deeper into the wilderness.
I crouch, examining the prints more carefully. The edge is softer than it seemed at first. Not as crisp as they should be if they were left minutes ago.
Water sounds ahead—the creek. I move to the bank. Disturbed rocks on both sides. Mud smears where someone crossed, then recrossed. Water drips on stones that should be dry.
He used the creek to break his trail.
My blood turns to ice. This whole path, these carefully placed tracks...
He’s not running from me.
He’s circling back.
I’m sprinting before the thought completes, crashing through the underbrush. Branches tear at my clothes, whipping across my face. The sting doesn’t register. Only the terror clawing up my throat matters.
She’s alone.
My legs pump harder. Lungs burn. The cabin is too far. I let him lead me too deep into the woods.
My bear roars inside me. Shift. We’d be faster on four legs.
Not yet. I need to think clearly.
The forest blurs past. My chest feels ready to explode, but I push harder, forcing screaming muscles to keep going.
If he touches her. If he so much as breathes in her direction...
My vision goes red at the edges. I’ll tear him apart with my bare hands. Then I’ll deal with my brothers, who clearly led him straight to our door.
I underestimated him. Badly.
I just hope Zara doesn’t pay for my mistake.
22
ZARA
The scratching stops, and for three heartbeats, there’s only silence. Then a shadow passes by the kitchen window. Large and dark, moving on four legs.
I jump. It’s an animal, and a big one at that. That’s why he rushed Jerry inside, why he told me to lock the door with such urgency. It has to be a bear.
My hands tremble and my body shakes, immediately going into panic mode after weeks of being on edge constantly. When Jerry explodes into motion, throwing himself at the door with a vicious snarl, the wood shudders under his weight. Whatever’s outside responds with its own growl, so deep, I feel it in my bones.
I back away from the window. A bear is better than my stalker, but as I ponder how the door shook under Jerry’s weight, and whether it could withstand a determined bear, my confidence falters.
The beast outside circles the cabin. I track its progress by Jerry’s movements, the way he races from window to window, protecting every entrance. It sniffs loudly under the door as it returns to the porch, then more scratching. Harder this time.
That’s when I see it properly through the side window. As I squint into the darkness, and the moonlight catches its coat, I realise it’s not a bear; it’s a wolf, albeit a massive one, with dark grey fur and pale eyes that catch the silver light.
