Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Tears streak my face, too, as I weep for his loss, his pain. I can’t be jealous of his grief for his dead mate because, in this moment, we are one. His agony is mine. His loss, mine.
I weave my fingers into the back of his hair and massage his scalp until he’s done.
I keep massaging until his breaths slow and his huge body relaxes into sleep.
Chapter 11
Caleb
I wake up like I’ve been in hibernation. It takes me a long time to figure out where the hell I am.
The research cabin.
Miranda’s near-death experience.
Fates, how long did I sleep?
I stumble out of bed, only to remember I have no clothes here. Great. Hope she doesn’t mind the morning wood.
I find my way to the bathroom, take a piss and rinse out my mouth with water. By that time, I realize the cabin smells delicious. Like baking sweet bread. I wrap a towel around my waist and pad out to the kitchen. Miranda is sitting behind her computer, watching me with soulful concern. The memory of what I shared with her last night comes back like a dull ache.
“G’morning,” I mutter. “What day is it? I feel like I just slept for months.”
“Just for a night. About sixteen hours, though. How do you feel?”
I consider. “Better.” I rub my beard. “It was good to talk. I feel like I’ve been through the wringer, but came out the other side without so much baggage, if that makes any sense.”
She lifts her intelligent green eyes to mine. “Perfect sense.” She gets up and pours a cup of coffee from the pot and hands it to me. “I don’t have much for food here, but I’m making you blueberry muffins. You know, for saving my life again.”
I step over to her and pull her soft form against mine and kiss the top of her head. “That’s sweet of you.”
On the floor, her dog thumps his black furry tail at me.
“How are you, Dog?”
Bear surges to his feet and runs over to me, tail wagging.
I drop into a chair and take the dog’s head into my hands, rubbing his face and praising him. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you? Are we friends? You’re not too scared of my bear?”
Bear turns his head to lick my hand.
I lift my gaze to Miranda. “What about you? Not freaked out?”
She shakes her head. “I love it. And I promise I will never, ever breathe a word to anyone. I don’t betray my friends.” She stumbles over the word friend, and I have to shove away the silent urgings from my bear to claim her.
She’s not claim-able.
She’s a human.
I’m a shifter.
She has her research. Lives in Albuquerque.
I’m still grieving.
Except the sharp dagger of pain that’s been between my ribs ever since Jen and Gretchen died isn’t there today. It’s eased to a dull ache.
Because of Miranda. And not just from her comforting me last night, although that went a long way to healing my broken soul. No, it’s because of the sex and the laughter. The companionship. And yes, the friendship.
And love, my bear whispers.
Love.
Fuck. I’m not capable of love again.
No, I can’t pursue this.
I clear my throat. “Thank you. That’s extremely important, Miranda. I appreciate your respect for our secrecy.”
“Of course.”
I believe her. She’ll honor me in this, I’m sure of it.
Her phone beeps and she bustles over to the oven and pulls out the muffins. My stomach rumbles.
“I hope you made more than one pan of those, because I’m gonna eat all twelve myself,” I warn her.
Her laugh is musical and magical. It fills the room and lights up the corners of my soul that haven’t heard laughter in years. “You go ahead. They’re all for you. I’d offer to make you dinner, but I’m not really set up for entertaining here.”
I pick a hot muffin out of the tin and toss it between my two hands to cool it off. “This will do. I love blueberries.”
She laughs again. “I noticed. And now I know why.”
I stuff half a muffin in my mouth. “Why?” I ask with my mouth full.
She rolls her eyes. “Bear food.”
“Oh yeah.” I give a sheepish grin and demolish the other half of the muffin while picking a second one out of the pan.
“How often do you change into a bear?” she asks, eyeing my naked torso like it’s dessert. She’d better stop looking at me like that, or it’s on like Donkey Kong.
I shrug. “I don’t know. Once a week? Once a month? Depends on what I want to do.”
“What were you doing yesterday?”
“Keeping an eye on you. When are you going to wrap this research up so I can get back to hibernating?” It’s not like me to tease or joke. Hell, it’s not like me to even smile, but I crack a grin so she knows I’m not a complete asshole. As much as a disruption as she’s been to my life, I will miss her when she leaves.