Chapter 7 - Cole
The word "beautiful" hangs in the air between us. Ruby's eyes widen slightly, and I watch the sunset paint gold across her cheeks as she processes my admission.
My bear stirs, pleased by the flush creeping up her neck, the slight quickening of her pulse that only I can hear. She's affected by me, as I am by her, though she doesn't understand why.
"Thank you," she whispers, looking away first. "That's... nice of you to say."
"It's not niceness. It's truth." I've never been good with pretty words or gentle flirtation. Bluntness is my nature. The bear doesn't know subtlety.
The sun dips lower, shadows lengthening across the valley below us.
We should head back before darkness makes the trail treacherous for her human eyes, but I'm reluctant to break this moment.
To return to the cabin where paperwork and the looming audit await, where professional boundaries remind us why she's really here.
"Have you always been alone out here?" Ruby asks, her gaze returning to mine. "Or was there someone before?"
The question cuts close to matters I rarely discuss. "There have been women. Nothing that lasted."
"Why not?"
I look toward the horizon, considering how much to reveal. "They weren't right."
"What does 'right' mean to Cole Blackwood?" Her tone is gently teasing, but her eyes are curious.
"They weren't..." I hesitate, searching for words that won't expose too much. "It never felt complete. Like something essential was missing."
"Chemistry? Compatibility?"
I shake my head. "Something deeper. A recognition."
"Recognition?" She turns toward me, the last rays of sunlight catching in her hair.
My bear pushes forward, urging me to tell her everything. To explain what she is to me, what we could be together. The moon is nearly full, my control threadbare after days of restraint. The words slip out before I can stop them.
"Like finding the other half of yourself. The person you're meant for."
Ruby's eyebrows rise. "I didn't take you for a believer in soulmates."
"Not soulmates," I correct, though it's close enough. "Fated pairs."
"Fated pairs?" She repeats, a hint of amusement in her voice. "I wouldn't have expected such romantic notions from a man who builds things with his hands."
"It's not romance. It's... instinct."
"Instinct," she echoes, studying me with those perceptive eyes. "Like animals finding their mates?"
The word "mates" in her mouth sends a jolt through me, my bear rising so forcefully I have to clench my fists to maintain control. She's too close to the truth, circling it with innocent questions that cut straight to my core.
"Something like that," I manage, my voice rougher than before.
Ruby tilts her head, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "So you're waiting for this... recognition? This instinctive knowing?"
If only she understood she's the one I've been waiting for. That the moment she stepped onto my porch, soaking wet from the storm, my entire existence realigned around her.
"Maybe I've already found it," I say, the words escaping before I can reconsider.
Her smile falters. I see confusion, uncertainty, a flash of something that might be hope. "Cole—"
A distant howl cuts through the evening air. One of the few true wolves that still roam these mountains. My bear responds right away, muscles tensing, senses sharpening. The full moon is tomorrow night, and my control is slipping hour by hour.
"We should head back," I say abruptly, standing. "It'll be dark soon."
Ruby blinks at the sudden change, but nods, accepting my offered hand to help her up. Her fingers are small and warm in mine, and I have to force myself to release them.
"Is everything okay?" she asks, concern in her voice.
"Fine," I lie, already turning toward the trail. "Just don't want you stumbling in the dark."
We descend in silence, the forest deepening into twilight around us. I'm aware of Ruby behind me—her scent, her footsteps, the slight catch in her breath when the path steepens. My bear is restless, wanting to turn back, to pull her close, to claim what's ours.
Not ours yet, I remind myself. Maybe never ours, if she can't accept what I am.
The cabin comes into view, windows glowing with the lights I left on. A home that's never felt so much like one as it has these past two days with her in it.
"That was worth the climb," Ruby says as we reach the porch steps. "Thank you for sharing it with me."
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. She's standing too close, looking up at me with those warm brown eyes, and all I can think about is how easy it would be to bend down, to taste her lips, to show her what words can't explain.
My bear roars inside me, demanding action. I clench my jaw, feeling my canines threaten to sharpen, my nails aching to extend into claws.
"Cole?" Ruby's voice breaks through the haze of instinct. "Your eyes..."
I turn away quickly. "Let's get inside. It's getting cold."
In the cabin, I move directly to the kitchen, putting the island between us, needing distance to regain control.
"Hungry?" I ask, opening the refrigerator more for something to do than from any real plan.
"A little," she admits, settling onto a stool. "That hike worked up an appetite."
I focus on the mundane task of preparing dinner, letting the familiar motions ground me. Chopping vegetables. Seasoning meat. Simple actions that don't require me to look at her, to smell her, to fight the urge to cross the distance between us.
"Can I ask you something?" Ruby says after a few minutes of watching me work.
"You can ask," I reply, not looking up from the cutting board.
"This... fated pairs thing. Do you really believe someone is destined for you? That you'll just know them when you meet them?"
The knife pauses in my hand. "Yes."
"How would you know?" Her voice is genuinely curious, without mockery.
I consider my answer. "It's instinctive. A recognition that goes beyond the physical. Beyond logic." I resume chopping, each movement precise. "Your body knows. Your...soul, I suppose, though that sounds more romantic than it is."
"And you've never felt this recognition before?"
My eyes lift to hers, unable to stop myself. "I didn't say that."
Ruby's lips part slightly, her pulse visibly quickening at her throat. "Cole—"
A sudden, sharp pain lances through my palm. I look down to find I've sliced my hand, blood welling from a deep cut. I hadn't even felt it happen. Too distracted, too close to shifting.
"You're bleeding!" Ruby is around the island in an instant, grabbing a kitchen towel and pressing it to my palm. "Let me see."
"It's fine," I try to pull away, but she holds firm.
"It is not fine. That's a deep cut." She peels back the towel, examining the wound with concern. "You need stitches."
I shake my head. "No, I don't. It'll heal."
"Don't be stubborn. Where's your first aid kit?"
"Bathroom cabinet," I relent, knowing it's easier to let her tend to it than to explain my accelerated healing.
She disappears down the hall, returning moments later with my extensive medical kit. Another oddity she's noted—why a bachelor living alone needs hospital-grade supplies.
"Sit," she commands, pointing to a stool.
I obey, amused despite the situation by her authoritative tone. She works efficiently, cleaning the wound, applying antiseptic. By the time she's ready to bandage it, the bleeding has already slowed. My shifter healing working faster than normal due to the approaching full moon.
Ruby frowns, examining the cut. "That's strange. It looked much deeper a minute ago."
"Good pressure," I suggest, flexing my hand. "See? Already better."
She doesn't look convinced but wraps a bandage around my palm anyway.
Her touch is gentle, her fingers warm against my skin.
She's standing between my legs as she works, close enough that I can count her eyelashes, see the small constellation of freckles across her nose that only appears in certain light.
My bear is going crazy, urging me to pull her closer, to bury my face in her neck, to claim what's mine. The moon's pull, her proximity, the intimacy of her caring for me. It's too much.
"Ruby," I say, my voice a low warning.
She looks up, still holding my bandaged hand, and whatever she sees in my face makes her eyes widen. "What is it?"
"You should step back." Each word is an effort, restraint stretched to breaking.
"Why?" she whispers, not moving away.
"Because I'm going to kiss you if you don't."
I expect her to retreat, to remember why she's here, to maintain the professional boundary we've been circling for two days.
Instead, she leans forward, just slightly—an invitation.
My control shatters. I pull her to me with my uninjured hand, my mouth finding hers in a kiss that's been building since she first stepped onto my porch. She makes a small sound of surprise that melts into something softer as she responds, her lips warm and yielding under mine.
My bear roars in triumph, and I have to fight to keep the kiss gentle, to remember she's human and fragile compared to me. But Ruby isn't fragile in her response. Her hands slide up my chest to my shoulders, fingers threading into my hair as she presses closer.
She tastes like sunshine, and I'm drowning in her scent, in the soft curves pressed against me, in the rightness of having her in my arms. My mate. Mine.
The possessive thought breaks through the haze of desire, reminding me of all she doesn't know. All I haven't told her. I pull back reluctantly, resting my forehead against hers, both of us breathing hard.
"I shouldn't have done that," I murmur, though my bear rages at the words.
"I wanted you to," Ruby admits, her hands still resting on my shoulders. "I've wanted you to since yesterday."
The confession sends heat through me, but it's tangled with guilt. She wants the man, not knowing about the beast. Not understanding what being with me would truly mean.
"Ruby," I begin, not sure what I'm going to say but knowing I need to explain somehow. "There are things about me you don't know. Things that would change how you see me."
She pulls back slightly. "Your secrets?"
I nod, holding her gaze. "Important ones."
"Does this have something to do with the bear I saw? With your eyes changing color just now on the porch?"
Sharp. Too sharp for her own good. I should deny it, deflect, protect my secret as I've been taught my whole life. But looking into her eyes, feeling her curves still pressed against me, I can't bring myself to lie.
"Yes," I admit, the single word carrying the weight of a lifetime of secrecy.
She doesn't pull away as I expect. Instead, her expression turns thoughtful, those clever eyes processing, connecting dots I didn't realize I'd left for her to find.
"Are you going to tell me?" she asks finally.
"I want to." And I do—the need to be known by her, truly known, is overwhelming. "But it's complicated. Dangerous."
"Dangerous?" Her eyebrows lift. "Are you in some kind of trouble, Cole?"
"No. Not like you're thinking." I release her gently, needing space to think clearly. "It's who I am that's the danger. What I am."
Ruby steps back, confusion evident in her expression. "You're not making sense."
"I know." I run a hand through my hair, frustrated by my inability to find the right words.
How do you tell someone you turn into a bear? That the moon controls your body's urges? That ancient magic runs in your blood?
"Whatever it is," she says quietly, "it can't be as bad as you're making it sound."
If only that were true. I've seen what happens when humans discover shifters. The fear, the violence, the desperate attempts to destroy what they don't understand. My father drilled the dangers into me from childhood: secrecy or death. Protection or extinction.
But this is Ruby. My mate. The other half of myself I never expected to find.
"Tomorrow," I say finally. "After the audit, when your job is done. I'll show you then."
"Show me?" Her brow furrows. "Not tell me?"
"Some things need to be seen to be believed." I move past her to check on dinner, needing the distraction. "And you need to be free to leave if... if what you see changes everything."
Ruby is silent for a long moment, watching me with those perceptive eyes. "You really believe I'd walk away? Because of some secret?"
"This isn't just any secret, Ruby." I turn to face her, letting her see the gravity in my expression. "And yes, you might. Most would."
"I'm not most people, Cole Blackwood. And I don't scare easily."
My bear preens at her courage, at the challenge in her voice. She's perfect for us—strong, unafraid, intelligent enough to understand and accept what we are. If only it were that simple.
"Let's get through tomorrow first," I say, returning to dinner preparations. "One crisis at a time."