Page 69 of Mated to the Mountain Bear
“It’s normally scent that determines mates for a wolf. When a wolf gets close to their fated mate, their smell triggers the bond, making them obsessed with mating and marking.” Ben looks genuinely confused. “But... you’re definitely not his mate.”
Ben is adamant that the wolf shifter has it wrong.
“Would I know if I were his... mate?” I ask, trying to wrap my head around the concept.
“Yes,” Ben answers, almost too fast. His thumbs stroke over my knuckles as he speaks, the touch sending sparks up my arms. “Even humans feel it. You’d want him constantly. Need him, like...”
His eyes lock on mine, dark and intense.
“Like air,” I finish, because that’s how I feel about Ben.
He nods. “Like air.”
The words hang between us, and his molten brown eyes stare into mine. It makes no sense, yet bone deep,I know,because I feel like I need this man with all my soul.
“If we spent some time together, would I feel it then...”
“No.”
One word. No room for doubt. Ben’s expression turns fierce, his entire demeanour darkening.
“But if he’s so convinced…”
Ben’s hand shoots out to press a finger to my lips and stops me from saying another word.
“You’re not his, because you’re mine.” He growls, dominance lacing every word, as his possessive gaze bores into mine.
The declaration vibrates through me, settling somewhere deep in my chest. Ben looks furious, but I don’t flinch away. Instead, I press my hands to his chest and let them roam over the expanse of tanned flesh before me, my core quivering in delight.
“Yours,” I repeat, loving the sound of that.
Ben’s eyes fall shut, his chest vibrating under my hands as a deep rumble escapes him. It seems he likes it too.
My hands venture lower, and lower still, until my fingers snag on the top of the blanket.
“He’s going to come back, Zara. I might have scared him away for now, but not forever. We should be preparing.” His voice is strained, like he’s fighting himself as much as warning me.
“What I have planned won’t take long,” I mumble, voice thick with lust.
I smooth my hands down his back, loving the sheer size of him, and the way my hands can’t span the width of his shoulders. My fingertips find fabric again, and I tug experimentally.
“Yes, it fucking will.” He growls before squeezing his eyes shut.
My nails drag along his hip bone and slide down, under the material along the seam of his thigh. A muscle jumps in his jaw.
Ben is conflicted. His hands gripping my hip and buried in my hair, tell me one thing, while his words, his brain, are saying another.
War is playing out behind his eyes, duty versus desire. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”
“Then take care of me. Show me what it means to be yours.”
With a loud moan, he hangs his head, his huge shoulders heaving with the effort of keeping his control. I watch the muscles bunch and release as he fights what he wants.
I’m not having that.
Growing brave, I lean forward, and place my lips right next to his ear, feeling him go rigid at the contact. “Please,mate.“
That’s all it takes.
