Chapter 21

“Mischief Bear One!”

“Here, Babulya!”

“Mischief Bear Two!”

“Present, Babulya!”

“Fall in line. It’s time to go jumping in your favorite mud pool.”

—“Three Bears, a Mud Pool, and a Rabid Squirrel,” a true family tale as told by Quyen Kuznets

NEITHER ONE OF them spoke again until he pulled into a parking spot outside the small bar and restaurant that was a favorite of his. Set up by a human couple who’d moved from Mexico City to Moscow for a work contract and fallen in love with the city, Jorge’s Cantina—named after a man important to both the owners—had a mellow vibe and gentle warmth.

And regardless of all he didn’t know about Theo, what he did know was that she’d had one hell of a horrific day. Fuck if he was just going to drop her off at her no-doubt sterile Psy apartment to handle the aftermath all alone.

He was a goddamn Stepyrev on one side and a Kuznets on the other, with Morais, Nguyen, Li, and more in the mix, too. His ancestors would roll over in their graves, while his living forebears would keel over—after slapping him upside the head—if he did anything but feed her. And pet her.

Only then could he grill her.

And he would—because he was also one of Valentin’s seconds, and he couldn’t work with Theo without being able to trust that she posed no threat to the clan. For that, he needed total honesty.

“Best Mexican food in the city,” he said to her once they’d exited the vehicle. “Owners are also happy to alter the spice level to their diners’ needs.” Some might say that made the dishes less authentic, but Juana, who ran front of house while her husband Videl ran the kitchen, said food was about comfort, and comfort came from being welcomed.

No wonder Jorge’s had a steady clientele of bears.

Inside, the cantina was all earth tones, from the dark cream of the walls to the polished wood of the floor and the rugs thrown here and there. The rugs as well as the place mats were handwoven in Juana’s hometown by an artists’ cooperative, while the plates, mugs, and glasses were supplied by another cooperative in the same city.

He glanced around, spotted a group of five thirtysomething humans discussing the menu, a single elderly human enjoying a leisurely dinner, and two bears. Good, that was as he’d expected for nine on a Friday night. Jorge’s was small and, despite its name, was set up more for food than as a bar, so folks in party mode tended to come by earlier, eat, then bounce to do their hellraising.

When one of his clanmates raised a hand, he raised one back with a smile but didn’t go over. “They’re on a date,” he whispered to Theo, leaning down to speak close to her ear. “She’s been courting him for months and I don’t want to throw a wrench into the works by interrupting.”

To Theo’s credit, she didn’t turn and look, but she’d clearly already noted the couple because she said, “He doesn’t look like the skittish type.”

“Don’t get taken in by appearances. He might look like a bear in human form, complete with the pelt”—Simeon’s beard was legendary for its lushness—“but she’s a senior dominant while he’s at the other end of the dominance scale.” Yakov got the sweats even thinking about the balance Vana would have to maintain to create a relationship with Simeon, but love was a crazy thing.

His bear saluted her courage.

“Yasha!” Juana waved from the other side of the restaurant. “Grab a table. We’ll be with you shortly.”

Theo kept her silence until they were seated on the far side of the cantina from the other couple, a small candle between them. “How does it work,” she asked, “with such a big power imbalance?” The candle flame flickered in the intense blue of her eyes.

It took him a second to realize he was staring, compelled by her energy. Energy so wild it was near to feral. “Trust and communication.” His words came out rough with the bear’s compulsion toward her.

Hell, who was he kidding? It wasn’t only the bear.

Yakov wanted to take Theo Marshall home and unravel her. He’d probably end up with bruises, but oh, it’d be one hell of a ride. “And love.” He held her gaze as he added that, his bear at the fore. “A ton of no-holds-barred love.”

Theo’s lashes glittered gold in the candlelight. “I understand.” Leaning back, she picked up the menu. “What do you recommend?”

Yakov narrowed his eyes but permitted the unexpected retreat from a woman who had refused to retreat from even her own worst nightmares. “Anything. It’s all good. I’ve been through the entire menu twice.”

In the end, she didn’t stick to the safest possible choice, as he’d half expected.

The waitress who took his order gave him a wink after turning slightly away from Theo.

Though he’d kept a straight face, Theo said, “Is she a bear?”

“No. But she’s dating one.” Dating seriously enough that she was all but clan at this point. “You’re about to become a hot topic in bear circles.”

“I’m hardly that exciting.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Then, and aware that no one was close enough to listen in to their conversation, he decided it was time to stop playing games. One way or another, he needed to discover if he could trust Theo.

His bear hated the idea that he might just be another man who hurt Theo. But he was also a StoneWater dominant, one of his alpha’s most trusted people. He was honor bound and heart bound to protect his clan from all perceived threats. And right now, the woman of his dreams was an unknown, classified as a threat until and unless he learned otherwise.

He locked his eyes with the shielded blue of hers once more, and this time, it was dead serious. “I can’t help you find what you need to find if you’re not honest with me—and Theo? I’m not real comfortable with the idea of assisting a family that made a ton of cash off maiming people.”

THEO froze, caught unawares. Yakov had been so easygoing and friendly that she hadn’t been prepared for the steel in his tone. She remembered too late that he was one of Valentin Nikolaev’s seconds. That meant Yakov Stepyrev was one of the most powerful people in the city of Moscow.

Steel was a prerequisite.

His eyes glowed amber with an edge of yellow in the candlelight, the animal that lived beneath his skin in full focus.

She should thank her grandfather. He was the one who’d given her the ability to hold even the most brutal gaze and not flinch. Because flinching meant pain. Her back tightened, her skin holding the worst echoes of memory.

I wouldn’t have to do this if you’d cooperate, Theodora.

She rubbed her bracelet. Hard. “Are you saying you won’t assist me unless I share everything?”

“I’m saying you’re wasting me as a resource if you tie one hand behind my back.” Eye contact so confronting it was more intimate than she’d ever before been with a man. “I also can’t work with a partner who’s hiding things that might get in the way of what we’re trying to do.”

Theo found herself flinching inside, all her stupid hopes shattered at her feet.

Partner. Work.

That was all she was and would ever be to Yakov.

But that didn’t change the fact that he was right, of course he was right. She’d been useless while she’d had her panic attack—and she’d be even more useless should the bracelet activate. But she had time there. Enough time. “I apologize—” she began.

A rumble from his chest cut her off. She realized at the same time that the bear couple on their date had gone motionless on the other side of the restaurant, while every single human had fallen silent. That was when she truly understood the level of dominance possessed by the otherwise laid-back man sitting across from her.

His displeasure had affected people nowhere near them.

As if realizing that, he turned and smiled at the others. “Sorry,” he said with an abashed grin, using those dimples of his like weapons, “we’re arguing over dessert.”

Everyone exhaled, laughed, and went back to their own discussions.

When Yakov turned his attention back to her, his eyes remained uncompromising in their intensity. “So.”

She drank half a glass of the water the waitress had dropped off before Yakov put her on the spot. Then she narrowed her eyes at him, because there was one thing she wanted to set straight here and now. “I am not a submissive. You can’t intimidate me.”

The slightest tug of his lips. “I know. If you were a submissive, I’d have handed you over to a gentler clanmate hours ago. You have a spine made of iron, Theo.” That slow smile deepened. “I like iron.”

Her breath hitched, her pulse erratic. She wasn’t so certain anymore that this was only about work. Not that it mattered. Her answer wouldn’t change—because this was no longer just about her own questions. It was about that man with the empty eyes who’d cried that single heartbreaking tear, about the woman who’d banged her head on the wall in the facility, and all the others she’d seen that day.

Where were the patients? What had her grandfather done?

“It stays between us,” she said, then shook her head when he would’ve interrupted her. “It’s personal. Nothing your clan needs to know—but I’ll allow you to make that call after I tell you.”

The amber grew brighter, a prowling wildness to it. “That’s a whole lot of trust, pchelka.”

Theo had the sudden, primal urge to crawl over the table and into his lap, grip his hair so that she could look endlessly into his eyes, the need born from the same core as her rage. She wanted to force him to know her, see her: Theo Marshall, Tk 2.7, no one important . . . and the masterwork of a cold-blooded psychopath.

Masochistic. But she couldn’t stand not knowing how he’d look at her once he knew all of her. Better to rip off the Band-Aid fast and hard. A little blood, a sharp stab of pain, and it would be over.

This . . . taut hope? It hurt worse.

“I did my research,” she got out past the storm inside her. “StoneWater bears have a reputation.” She paused. “In more ways than one—but everyone agrees your word is your bond.”

Throwing back his head, Yakov laughed, the sound a warm wave that had the others in the restaurant looking over with big smiles on their faces. The waitress bore the same smile when she dropped off their food. And Theo realized that this man wasn’t just liked by his friends and clanmates. He was loved.

“Agreed, then,” he drawled, while she was still recovering from the impact of his laugh, so open and generous. “I won’t say a word to anyone as long as it’s truly personal.”

“We’ll talk in the car,” she said. “I can’t risk anyone else overhearing.” True enough—but also true was that she needed to build up her willpower and courage to walk back into the suffocating evil that made her hate herself.

Yakov held her gaze, as if judging the sincerity of her words, before inclining his head in a small nod. “Be careful of the serving skillet—it’s hot.”

The next few minutes were taken up with him explaining how she could put together her fajita, then offering her a portion of his soft taco to try. She felt overwhelmed, as if she was living another woman’s life. A normal woman’s. One who had nothing to hide and could enjoy the company of a beautiful, bearish man who seemed determined to feed her even if he didn’t trust her.

Yakov had already ordered a couple more dishes.

“Sides,” he’d explained. “I eat like a bear and this way you can try more dishes.”

Now he said, “Thela, try this sweet pepper.” He began to lift it to her lips, a slight flush kissing his cheekbones before he changed course to put it on her plate. “You won’t believe how good it tastes.”

The entire experience threw her.

Food was never this generous sharing among the Psy.

We used to. Pax and I.

A cascade of memories from their childhood, of her passing him his favorite nutrient bar rather than eating it herself, even though it was part of her allotment for the day, and him making sure the bags of dried fruit they got as treats ended up in her pockets.

The memories hurt.

Right then came the bite of heat on her tongue as the newest flavors penetrated. Feeling her eyes widen at the punch of sensation, she focused on that, on the external. Across from her, Yakov laughed again, generous and warm and beautiful in a way no man had ever before been to her, and said, “Go with it.”

So she did, and decided that the food was delicious.

As was Yakov Stepyrev.

Far, far beyond her reach, but she could pretend he wasn’t for this moment out of time. And she wouldn’t wonder what could’ve been had she had a different life, been a different Theo. Because soon enough, he’d know the terrible, awful truth of her, something even Pax didn’t know.

A stir at the door to the restaurant.

Glancing over, Yakov threw up his hands, a scowl on his face. “No, I got here first!”

Twisting in her seat at the comment that sounded like a reply to a statement that hadn’t yet been made, Theo looked over her shoulder to see . . . Yakov standing there. Only, no, it wasn’t Yakov. This man wore spectacles, and a checked shirt over jeans . . . and he was still a near-perfect replica of Yakov.