Chapter 13
Lila
Two days after Christmas, it’s time to let the animals have their freedom. Holt opens the gate that leads to the field and all hell breaks loose.
The ponies bolt first, tails high, kicking up powder all around them. The dogs tear after them, barking their heads off, slipping, rolling, colliding in ecstatic confusion. I can’t stop laughing—it’s mayhem, but the good kind.
Holt leans on the fence beside me, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Almost makes being snowed in worth it.”
“Oh, it was worth it,” I reply.
He arches a brow. “The storm, the blackout, the near-death drive?”
“All of it,” I say.
He turns to me, eyes locking onto mine. That feeling goes through me again—a warm, shuddery longing, that’s never far away when I’m with him.
I hold his gaze, unflinching. “Every minute.”
His gaze drops to my mouth, then lower. “Yeah?”
His eyes darken, that low growl starting deep in his chest before he clears his throat and shakes himself.
“If you’re not careful, those ponies are gonna be left to their own devices for a while.”
A smile plays on my lips as the thought rises deliciously.
Then one of the dogs barrels past and sprays us both with icy slush.
I brush my face, laughing helplessly.
Holt shakes his head, muttering something about chaos and domesticated beasts.
We watch the animals until they start to tire, the ponies snorting, the dogs flopping into the drifts with tongues lolling. The air is filled with panting, shaking, snuffling—the sound of uncomplicated, joyous life.
My heart’s so full I could burst. The last two days have been a dream—one long, perfect Christmas that never ends.
We’ve eaten too much, laughed too loud, barely left the bed except to feed the animals. The power’s still out, but who cares? Every moment with Holt feels like something I didn’t think was possible until now.
The peace shatters before I even know why. The dogs’ lazy panting shifts into sharp barks, attention snapping toward the trees.
Holt’s head lifts. “You hear that?”
“What?” I strain my puny human ears. Hear nothing.
“One of those darn electric ski machines.”
A long minute later, there’s a sound—low, mechanical, alien after so many days of nothing but wind and animal noise and Christmas carols played on repeat.
The hum rises into a growl, closer every second. Holt straightens from the fence, muscles bunching.
The dogs race toward it, barking furiously.
A snowmobile bursts from the tree line, spraying snow as it skids to a stop in front of the gate. The rider cuts the engine and flips up a visor.
Holt’s at my side before I’ve taken a second breath. His hand finds the small of my back. He doesn’t say a word, just stands there—broad, still, eyes fixed on the newcomer with that assessing stare of his.
A man’s voice carries across the open air. “Hey! You’re alive!”
I blink, startled. “Who—?”
He’s grinning as he pulls off his helmet, cheeks red from the cold. “Name’s Ryan! Heather’s cousin! She sent me up to check on you—she’s been trying to get through but says there’s no signal up here.”
The ponies scatter, startled, and the dogs race around barking their outrage at this strange, noisy intruder.
I laugh, brushing snow from my sleeves. “There isn’t. But tell her I’m fine—just snowed in.”
“Yeah, she figured. But she was worried anyway. Asked me to swing by.”
“We’re all good,” Holt says.
Ryan hesitates, one booted foot still braced on the snowmobile. “Guess you’re not alone up here after all,” he says lightly.
“No,” I say, feeling Holt’s warmth at my back. “This is Holt.”
“Right,” Ryan answers, smiling, but his gaze flicks to Holt’s size, the set of his shoulders, the faint glint of warning in those golden-brown eyes. “Good to meet you, man.”
Holt gives a curt nod. “You, too.” He extends a hand. The handshake is firm, deliberate. Ryan blinks, but manages a grin.
Ryan clears his throat and nods toward the slope behind him. “Roads are starting to clear now. If you’re ready to head down, there’s space for you at the guesthouse in town. Heather said to tell you—hot showers, decent coffee, actual power. She’ll sleep better if you’re back in civilization.”
I crook an eyebrow. “And the animals?”
Ryan reads from his phone. “The dogs and cat are welcome at the guesthouse. The parrot can fend for itself as long as you leave it enough food. And my neighbor might be willing to look after the ponies for a few days.” His gaze slides to Holt and back again.
Holt and I exchange a long look.
A slow grin breaks across his face—and it matches mine exactly.
“Thanks, Ryan,” I say. “But I’m good here. Tell Heather she can stop worrying.”
He grins, shaking his head. “Guess you mountain people know how to handle yourselves.” He tugs his helmet back on. “I’ll check in again if I come this way.”
“Thanks,” I say, at the same moment Holt says,
“No need, Bro.”
I snicker to myself. God help me, but I love his possessiveness.
The engine roars back to life. Snow whirls as Ryan turns the machine and disappears down the trail.
The dogs mill around, pleased with themselves; one noses my hand and I absently scratch behind his ears. I’m still smiling. Mountain people. I like the sound of that.
Holt slips his arm around my waist, pulling me close. “Guesthouse, huh?”
“Mm-hm. Egyptian cotton sheets. Luxury toiletries.” I rest a hand on his chest. “Tempting offer.”
“But you’re staying,” he growls, the words more statement than question.
“I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.” I look up at him, smiling, but he doesn’t return it.
He’s suddenly looking deathly serious.
His jaw works once, like he’s deciding whether to speak or swallow it down.
“Holt?” I prompt, light, teasing. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous of a snowmobile.”
His gaze stays on the trail a heartbeat longer, then drops to me. The color in his eyes is darker, deeper. When he finally speaks, the words come low and rough, like they’ve been dragged over gravel.
“Why didn’t you tell him I was your mate?”
It lands like a hand to my sternum.
“I—what?” I blink, caught off guard. “Ryan?”
“He asked who I was.” No anger. Just that dangerous stillness. “You just said my name, like I was anyone.”
I open my mouth; nothing sensible comes out at first. Heat crawls up my neck. “I… I didn’t think. He’s human, Holt. He doesn’t know what you are—what we are. Was I supposed to say, ‘This is Holt, my half-bear soulmate’?”
He doesn’t smile. His fingers spread a fraction at my waist.
“I wasn’t hiding you,” I say, words tumbling now, breath fogging the cold between us. “I was protecting… us. It felt private. Ours. And I don’t know what Ryan knows, or what Heather told him, and humans don’t exactly… take mates. Not like that.”
His throat works. A flicker of hurt shadows his gaze before he reins it in. He’s so still I can feel my own pulse beating against the steadiness of him.
“I wasn’t asking you to announce I’m a bear,” he goes on quietly. “Or that you belong to me. I just… wanted to know you weren’t pretending I’m nothing.”
“Holt—”
He exhales through his nose, shakes his head. “Forget it. It’s stupid. I don’t—”
“It’s not stupid,” I interrupt, the air sharp in my lungs. “You’re right.”
He looks at me then, really looks, and there’s more pain in his eyes than he’ll ever say.
“I spent years thinking I was doing the right thing by staying away,” he says. “Now I’m here, and you won’t even claim me to a man who doesn’t mean a thing to you.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Maybe not,” he admits. “But it’s how it felt.”
He takes a step back, the space between us colder than the wind could ever make it.
“I didn’t think I could care about words that much,” he says quietly.
Something in me twists hard at that — guilt, longing, a flash of panic that he might actually walk away.
I take a step after him, snow crunching under my boots.
“Holt, stop,” I say softly. “You matter. More than I know how to say.”
He half turns, but doesn’t meet my eyes. “Then why’d it sound like you were ashamed to say what I am?”
“I wasn’t ashamed.” I press a hand to my chest, trying to make him hear it. “I was overwhelmed. I’m still figuring out how to explain… I’ve never had a boyfriend before, let alone a… a forever partner.”
That gets a reaction—his head lifts, eyes flashing gold for a heartbeat. Then he exhales, a sound that’s half relief, half pain. His hand comes up slowly, fingers brushing a lock of hair from my face. “I hope you mean that, Lila. Because I don’t have it in me to lose you twice.”
I close the last of the distance, resting a hand against his chest where his heart hammers against my palm. “You’re not going to.”
He stays quiet for a long moment, his breath warm against the cold air, but I can feel it building in him—the tension, the unspoken thing tightening between us again.
Finally, he says it:
“You say you’re not leaving… but when you’re done here—when Heather comes back—what then?”
I blink up at him, thrown. “What do you mean?”
“You’ll go home,” he says simply. “Back to your life. Your friends. Your work.” His jaw flexes, eyes fixed on the snow instead of me. “You’ll go, because that’s what people do. They go back.”
“Holt…” My throat closes. “You think I want to leave this?” I choke out. “Leave you?”
He exhales, the sound sharp, like it hurts to hope. “I think one day you’ll wake up and remember who you were before all this. And you’ll realize I don’t fit into that world.”
I shake my head, fierce now. “Maybe that world doesn’t fit me anymore.”
He goes still, searching my face, as if he’s trying to see if I mean it.
“I’ve spent the last two days feeling more alive than I have in years,” I tell him. “You think I want to trade that for traffic and deadlines and people who don’t look at me the way you do?”
His hand comes up, rough palm cupping my cheek. “Lila…”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, and I mean it.
For a long beat, neither of us moves. The air between us hums with everything that’s been said—and everything that hasn’t.
Then he pulls me against him and breathes me in like he’s memorizing the moment, his voice a whisper against my hair.
“Say it again.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I repeat, and feel his whole body ease around me.
“I’ll take care of you,” he mutters into my hair.
I grin as the thought takes hold, warming me all the way through. “I’d like that. But, you know, I’m an independent kinda girl. I’ll also need to get a job.”
“In the town?”
“Yeah…” I drift off as all the possibilities occur to me—working for a local marketing agency, running a café, becoming a dog groomer. I never really wanted to leave Maple View. If I’d had a different family, I would’ve happily been a small-town girl all my life.
“I’ll get a job in the town,” I say happily.
“At least, until you start having our cubs.”
“Cubs?”
“That’s what a bear’s young are called.”
I go still, imagining my belly swelling with Holt’s cub. His seed growing inside me. A baby that has his black hair and amber eyes. Curled against his broad chest, loved and protected by us both.
Suddenly, I can’t breathe.
“Do you want that?” His voice is taut with uncertainty.
I nod. “So much.” The words spill out of me. I lift my head so I can see him. His eyes are blazing gold. “I want to have your cubs, Holt. Lots of them.”
A growl breaks from his throat, and he lays his massive hand on my stomach. “You’re so fertile, baby.”
“I am?”
“Uh huh.” His nostrils flare. “I can scent it on you. I can’t wait to impregnate you.”
I shiver. “No time like the present,” I say, and a shudder of longing goes through me.