Chapter 10
Holt
The shift tore through me too fast to fight. I didn’t even try. The beast roared out of me, pure and unrestrained.
Now I’m running before I know I’ve moved. The ground shakes underfoot, trees whipping past in a blur. Every sense explodes to life—the earth’s pulse, the snow crushing under my paws, her intoxicating scent burning through the dark.
Lila.
The bond sings through my blood. Calling me back. Calling me home.
But I can’t go to her like this.
I crash through the trees, every heartbeat a battle between hunger and reason. Somewhere deep inside the animal, the man claws for control, whispering her name, begging the beast to stay away from her.
But she’s close. I can smell her fear and need, feel it like a physical pull, dragging me back toward the cabin.
The bear inside me slows, panting, steam rising from its back. The sound that rumbles out of my throat isn’t anger—it’s longing.
I lift my head toward the house, knowing she’s there, and some fragile, human part of me whispers the truth I can’t hide anymore:
She saw me.
“Holt!”
The sound hits like a dart, clean through the chest.
She followed me. Of course she did.
I drag in a breath and force the shift back—but my beast’s blood is up and it refuses to retreat.
She’s close now. I can smell the tender scent of her skin, hear the fast rhythm of her heart.
“Don’t come closer,” I rasp. “Please.”
The wind swallows half the words, but she keeps moving. I can see her through the trees now—hair plastered to her face, eyes wide, searching.
“Holt?”
She’s there—coat flung open, hair wild in the wind. The sight slams into me. The animal surges forward before I can think, and I dig my claws into the frozen ground, anchoring myself there.
I press a paw to my chest, fighting the tremor that threatens to pull me apart again. Go back inside, I will her.
Her gaze catches on me, and for a long moment we just stare at each other through the chaos.
I don’t have to look to know what she sees—the deadly fangs, the eyes that still burn gold, steam rising from my hide.
But her eyes are wide, shining in the half-light. She’s not screaming. Not running.
Just looking.
And God help me, I feel her recognize me.
Not the shape I wear now, but what’s underneath it—the part that has never stopped reaching for her.
I lower my head, trying to look less like a threat, the closest thing to an apology I have. A growl vibrates in my chest; it comes out soft, almost broken.
She takes a single step closer. The snow muffles everything but her breath and mine. I can smell her again—warm skin, pine smoke, the faint salt of tears.
Something inside me unclenches. The fury ebbs. The bear’s heartbeat steadies with hers until, for a few stolen seconds, there’s no boundary between us at all.
“This was it?” she breathes, her voice as clear and sweet as an angel’s. “This was what you were hiding from me?”
The bear inside me stills. I lower my head until I’m close enough for her to see her reflection in my eyes. She raises a trembling hand and, against every rule I ever set for myself, lets her fingers rest against my muzzle.
“You’re a bear… a man bear,” she murmurs.
Heat floods between us. Not danger. Recognition. The bond flares—bright, absolute, impossible to hide now.
I close my eyes and lean into her touch, breathing her in. The sound that rumbles from my chest is no longer a warning; it’s relief.
Her other hand finds my fur, tentative at first, then surer.
“You could’ve told me,” she says.
“I needed to keep you safe.” I say the words inside my head.
Her eyes widen in recognition. She heard me. She heard my inner voice.
“You don’t have to anymore,” she whispers, tearing up.
I draw her into my arms. She comes willingly, no fear left, only that fierce, reckless trust. The storm swirls around us, but my beast’s huge forelegs wrap around her and protect her from it.
We make our way back to the cabin together, Lila walking at my side. The urge to throw her onto my back is overwhelming, but I don’t want to freak her out more than I have already.
When her small hand sinks into my fur and grasps a handful of it, my heart soars.
Inside, the firelight spills across the floor, warm and golden. I stop just inside the doorway, shaking the snow from my coat. She looks up at me, breath catching. For the first time, she really sees me—not as something to fear, but something she already knows.
I lower my head, rumbling softly. “Blanket,” I manage to say, the word rough through the shape of my muzzle.
She blinks, then nods, moving quickly to the sofa. She grabs the biggest one she can find and spreads it out in front of the hearth. I pad forward, lowering myself onto it, never taking my eyes off her.
Discreetly, like she understands me, she averts her eyes, and the change comes fast—muscle folding, fur sliding away, bones crunching. It’s over in seconds, and I’m kneeling on the blanket, human again, breath ragged. Lila turns just as I pull the edge around my waist.
I stiffen, wondering how she’ll feel when she sees me as a man again.
Her gaze travels over me—at first wary, then searching, then something else entirely.
Slowly, she steps toward me.
Her hand comes up, tracing the line of my jaw. The touch burns through the chill that’s left in me.
“You could have told me, Holt,” she whispers again.
“I didn’t know how.” My voice shakes. “I didn’t want to trap you. My kind… when we find our mate, it’s for life. There’s no undoing it. I didn’t want to take the choice away from you.”
She studies me for a long moment, eyes steady. “And if I choose you now?”
I can’t breathe. “You’d be mine. Completely. And I’d be yours. Forever.”
“Forever?” she echoes, her voice low and breathy.
Her palms rest against my chest, feeling the beat of my heart.
“It’s a lot to ask of a human.”
She draws back and there’s fire in her eyes, and a hint of sternness, too. “Oh, I’m ready, Holt. I’ve been ready since I was eighteen.”
I close my eyes for a long beat. “I should’ve understood. Should’ve trusted you.”
“Yes, you should. But I’m here now, and that’s what counts.”
Her fingers slide into the hair at the nape of my neck, tugging just enough to drag me forward.
We’re kissing again.
Years of distance collapse between us, replaced by the softness of her mouth, the press of her body. The small sound she makes when my hands encircle her waist.
The kiss deepens, not rushed, not desperate—just full of everything we never got to say.
She’s so tiny in my arms, but she kisses like a woman who knows what she wants. She tugs at my hair, slips her velvety tongue into my mouth.
My hands slide lower, over the curve of her hips, fitting her against me the way I’ve imagined too many damn times. She’s warm everywhere, soft in all the places I’ve dreamed about.
The sound she makes when I lift her onto my lap goes straight through me.
Her thighs tighten around me.
That one, simple pressure nearly undoes me.
I’ve dreamed about this for five years, but the reality of her—her heat, her curves, the way she clings to me without hesitation—makes every version I imagined feel thin.
Her sweater rides up when she arches to kiss me deeper, and my fingers catch the bare strip of skin at her waist—soft, warm, perfect.
She pulls back just an inch, eyes searching mine. “You can touch me, you know.”
“I am touching you.”
“I mean like you want to.”
I run my callused fingertips through her hair. It’s the softest thing I’ve ever touched. “You sure you know what that means?”
She bites her lip, then nods. “It means, I’m ready for you, Holt. I want you to take me. To make me yours.”
Holy hell.