Page 36 of Bearly Yours
“Yes.”
He laughed and shook his head, then sneakily put his arm around my shoulders in such a smooth move that I almost admired his skill and complete nonchalance.
“Are you cuddling with me right now?” I asked, just to clarify the situation.
“One hundred percent yes.”
“Got it.”
I took another bite of my pretzel. Roarke was cuddling with me and I was eating a pretzel as if my life would end if I didn’t finish it. Was I nervous? Yes, yes I was. But I womaned up—or in my case bear shiftered up—and set my plate down, then I very hesitantly shifted my hand over a tiny bit, and Roarke thankfully did the rest. His free hand found my hand, and he laced our fingers together. And when I say that I stared at our hands laced together for a long five minutes, I actually mean maybe ten, and the whole while my brain was just giving me static, like I had it tuned to the wrong channel.
And no emojis popped into my brain to save me. Perhaps there wasn’t an emoji formy best friend, whom I adore, is now possibly my mate, and is holding my hand! Like, serious hand-holding happening here!
And then the thought came: why did no one, not even my sixth-grade bear shifter homeschool teacher, who was forced to show our class what was practically a nature documentary about the birds and the bees, ever tell me about the dangers to my health that handholding could be? You’d think this would garner even a casual mention. But nope, it had not. My brain was still giving me static, and I could not for the life of me focus on the movie that Roarke was chuckling at. I preened a little because I’d made him laugh, though. If only vicariously through my movie recommendation.
Emrie, you are a strange, strange individual. There should be a neurosis named after me.
Oh, you have Emrie? I’m so sorry to hear that. I’ll pray they find a cure soon.
Roarke leaned closer and whispered in my ear, “Stop obsessing. Just breathe.”
I drew in a deep breath, and realized I was feeling a bit lightheaded. Had I not been breathing?
Thirty minutes into the movie, I started to relax. My brain had gotten over its initial freakout and was now in chillax mode. Thankfully, Roarke’s massive shoulders accommodated this new Emrie mode and I rested my head on the shoulder nearest me as I grew sleepy. Roarke was still holding my hand, but now he was stroking it, like I was a wild animal that needed soothing.
I laughed and closed my eyes.
He always seemed to get me. It was wonderful having at least one person in the world that you knew, without any doubts, just got you. That understood you on a level that sometimes even surpassed what you understood about yourself. Which, hewasa dragon, so yes hedidunderstand me on a level I didn’t even know about myself. It was just dragon nature, and on top of that, he’d done that freaky soul read thing on me enough times to really get an in-depth character reference.
Who needed resumes anymore? Just ask a dragon to read your job applicants.
My sleepy eyes popped open. Seriously, why was this not being done already?
“Not enough dragons in the world, love,” Roarke said.
“Seriously, can you read my mind? Just tell me now, and I promise I won’t freak out.” I was a lying liar pants on fire. I would totally freak out.
He chuckled quietly. “Your emotions are amazingly concise. Sometimes I can tell where your mind has gone just from the mix of your emotions. And, yes, sometimes I get flashes of your thoughts. It’s because I’m old.”
“So, wait.” I sat up. “Older dragons can become telepaths?”
He protested my moving away by tugging me closer again to the furnace that was his body. “No. Every dragon when they age has other gifts or abilities. It just comes with age. We pick up things. I haven’t heard of another with telepathic abilities, even one as weak as my ability. The better I know the person, the clearer their thoughts are to me. But if I don’t know the person, their thoughts are just static.”
I groaned. “Wonderful. Just wonderful. My mate can read my thoughts. Oh, and he can also decipher my emotions as well, because lets just add that in for kicks and giggles and total and complete embarrassment.”
Roarke chuckled.
“So you knew, like, this whole time that I’ve had a crush on you?” I prayed fervently for the sudden ability to melt into the floorboards, or float away on the breeze. And also, I was moving to Antarctica. I knew it was cliché to want to move there when your life was over and you could no longer show your face to society at large, but it didn’t matter. I would embrace that cliché like nobody’s business. I would probably like the cold, being a bear shifter and all, so I didn’t need to worry.
“Yes. About as long as I’ve had a crush on you,” Roarke answered.
“Wait—what now?”
He leaned in closer, until I could feel his breath fanning my face. “I’m surprised you never realized,” he said in a gravelly tone. “I’m crazy about you, Emrie. Did you not see the fountain?”
I blinked back tears again, even as my insides were hopping around like all of my organs were attached to a pogo stick, which was apparently my go-to reaction whenever Roarke’s voice lowered into that vocal register. “I forgot to tell you,” I whispered emotionally. “Ilovethe fountain. It’s so beautiful.”
“I had it commissioned. I wanted you to be near me.”
