Chapter 55
FIFTY-FIVE
CAL
Later—much later—they lay tangled in the sheets, firelight dancing across bare skin.
Cal watched Dahlia trace the claiming marks on her hip. Four parallel lines, still pink and raw, that would scar silver in time. His marks. His mate.
His bear purred with satisfaction. Ours. Forever ours now.
“They’re beautiful.” Her voice dropped low.
“They’re proof.” He covered her hand with his own. “Proof that you chose me. That you wanted this. Wanted us.”
She turned to face him, tucking herself against him. He pulled her close instinctively, wrapping himself around her like the protective bear he was.
“I want to talk about something.” Her voice was soft against his skin.
“Anything.”
“Paris.” She pulled back slightly to meet his eyes.
After she was done, she gave him a questioning look. “Is it selfish?”
He knew this story. But hearing her say it, hearing the longing and the guilt in her voice, made his heart ache.
“It’s not selfish.” Cal cupped her face, tilting it up to his. “It was never selfish. It’s your dream, Dahlia. You’re allowed to have dreams. You spent your whole life telling everyone else that—it’s time you believed it for yourself.”
“The letter—the offer—it’s still valid. They’ve given me until the end of the month to accept.” She bit her lip. “Paris. Learning from the best. Becoming the baker my grandmother believed I could be.”
Cal was silent for a moment. Then: “We’re going.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“We’re going. Both of us. Six months in Paris. You’re doing the residency.”
“But—” She pushed up on her elbow. “The sleuth. You became alpha. You can’t leave—”
“Bran will hold things here. He’s recovering, getting stronger every day. Margot will help—she’s been running things for years anyway.” Cal pulled her back down, resting her against him. “The town will help. Theo, Leo, the whole alliance. They don’t need me hovering.”
“Cal...”
“I spent fifteen years running from rest because I thought it made me weak.” He pressed a kiss to her hair. “You taught me differently. Now I’m choosing rest. Choosing to support your dreams instead of drowning in work. Choosing to build a life instead of an empire.”
“And what will you do in Paris while I’m learning to make magical croissants?”
He smiled against her hair. “I hear the coffee is excellent. The parks are beautiful. The patisseries are worth exploring.” His arms tightened around her. “And I’ll get to wake up next to my mate every single morning. That’s more than enough.”
Dahlia was silent for a long moment. Then her shoulders started to shake.
Cal pulled back in concern. “What—”
She was crying. Actually crying, tears spilling down her face, but she was smiling too—a radiant, broken-open smile that made his heart clench.
“Happy tears,” she choked out. “These are happy tears. I spent so long telling myself I couldn’t want this. That it was too selfish. And now you’re handing it to me like it’s the easiest thing in the world.”
“It is easy.” He wiped her tears with his thumbs. “Loving you is easy. Supporting your dreams is easy. The hard part was figuring out how to stop running long enough to realize it.”
She pulled him down and kissed him—soft and slow and full of promise. When she finally pulled back, her eyes were still wet, but her smile was steady.
“Paris.” The words barely carried.
“Paris,” he confirmed. “You and me. Six months of rest and croissants and absolutely no emergencies.”
“I love you, Callum Ursa.”
“I love you too, Dahlia Moon-Ursa.” He pulled her close, arranging her against him where she fit perfectly. “Now get some sleep. We’ve got a lot of packing to do.”
She laughed quietly, her breath tickling his skin. “Rest. You’re actually choosing rest.”
“I learned from the best.”
Outside, the stars wheeled overhead. The mountains stood sentinel as they had for centuries. And in a cabin in the heart of Ursa territory, a bear shifter who had finally stopped running held his mate close and let himself rest.
They had found what they’d both been searching for, in the most unexpected place, with the most unexpected person.
Home.