Chapter 51

“Without your brother, and given the powerful influence of the Psy Council and their mandates, we could well have crossed the line from ruthless to cruel. He is our conscience and our soul.”

—Ena Mercant to Silver Mercant (date unknown)

ARWEN WAS MORE than used to bears by now. He adored the troublemaking, loving, loud changelings. And, following his infamous stint in a jail cell beside Pasha and several other bears, StoneWater had decided that he was an honorary bear—despite his “slick” suits and “shiny” shoes.

He might’ve taken the ribbing on his dress sense seriously if he hadn’t (a) seen Pasha himself in a suit one memorable time, and (b) met Zahaan. Bears, with their wide shoulders and changeling-hard bodies, could pull off suits like nobody’s business. It was a crime that of all of them, Zahaan alone seemed to appreciate that fact.

Arwen’s tailor bemoaned that fact every time he went in for a fitting.

It did make it all the more special that Pasha had done it for Arwen the day they’d gone to the Sea House for dinner. He had, in fact, been so well-behaved that night that it was disconcerting. Arwen loved that his bear had made the effort as a gesture of respect to Grandmother, but chert he’d been glad to get home and see his Pasha again.

The jeans-wearing rogue whose idea of fancy was a new T-shirt.

Today, given the occasion, Arwen had gone for casual—possible since he hadn’t come straight from a formal work commitment: a pair of dark blue jeans paired with a black shirt that had a triangular piece of detailing that angled down from one shoulder to about three quarters of the way across his chest.

That detailing echoed a weaving technique from the island of Niue in the Pacific—a nod to the designer’s homeland. He’d thrown a simple black blazer over it all, albeit a blazer that had been structured to his frame by the same master tailor who had his heart broken by bears each and every day.

Pavel had whistled when he’d first emerged from the bedroom after changing, and Arwen hadn’t been able to stop his pleased blush. He’d brushed nonexistent dust off Pavel’s muscled shoulders, his lover dressed in a faded gray T-shirt with the emblem of a rock band and olive green cargo pants, his favorite scuffed boots on his feet.

With his metal-framed eyeglasses paired with that tight senior StoneWater dominant body, he’d looked ridiculously hot, a piercingly intelligent and competent man who could get the job done, then haul his lover back to his lair for a night of debauchery.

Arwen was quite happy to be so debauched.

But what he loved even more was the way his Pasha bear touched him. A little brush of his finger over Arwen’s hip as they passed, the way his leg pressed against Arwen’s after they were seated around the large family-size table at the cantina, how he put his arm over the back of Arwen’s chair. The best thing was that he knew it wasn’t a special effort—this was who he was: an affectionate, touchy bear.

Turning to grin at Arwen now, his killer dimples on gorgeous display, he said, “How about that? We beat everyone here.”

“That’s because I was in the city already, and you drove in early to run a maintenance check on the computronic security system at Yakov and Theo’s building.”

“Details, details.”

Arwen’s smile was in his heart itself. “You find anything hinky?”

“Nope. Yasha’s got good instincts, but whatever is setting them off, it’s not in the computronics. Clean and locked down. As it should be—it was built by the best hacker in Moscow.” Slipping a finger under the edge of one blazer sleeve, he rubbed the fabric between thumb and forefinger. “I like this.”

Arwen’s toes curled. “You want to stay in the city tonight? No clubbing, just a walk along the river and cuddling on the couch. House is free and I already have an overnight bag there from my last visit. Complete with a spare toothbrush for my Pasha bear.”

It was his grandmother who’d purchased the house, but she never used it these days now that StoneWater had given her a suite in the den—a suite so far away from the bright joy of the communal areas that no bear was excited at the thought of living there. Valentin hadn’t wanted to offer it to Ena when Silver suggested it would suit better than another set of rooms that Ena had used once or twice by then.

“I don’t want to insult your grandmother, Starlichka,” he’d said to Silver in Arwen’s hearing, his hands on his hips and his face set in confused lines. “It’s so far away from the heart of the den. So quiet and lonely.”

Which made it perfect for a Psy who had lived in Silence all her life—but who had come to feel great affection for the bear clan that was now part of the Mercant family. Because while the bears thought they’d co-opted the Mercants, Ena was equally certain that the Mercants now had a bear arm.

Arwen found the entire thing delightful.

As it was, his grandmother tended to stay in her den suite when she visited the city, and she was happy for her children and grandchildren to use the Moscow house as long as they left it pristine in the aftermath for the rare times she dropped by to use the living area for an informal meeting.

Arwen often deliberately left a cup out of place, or a jacket hanging on the back of the door, just to play with her. She’d always give him the most severe look when they next spoke, but he could feel her emotions and he knew he was loved. He also knew he was getting worse at the playfulness after hanging around with bears. Especially his Pasha bear.

Who leaned over to nuzzle at him now, his jaw freshly shaven in honor of the family dinner. “I’ll be your river-walk-and-cuddle date—as long as you buy me ice cream from that cart along the riverside.” A rumble that traveled through Arwen’s bones.

Arwen felt his cheeks crease and wondered if he’d ever not smile around Pavel. “I’ll even spring for a triple scoop.”

“You know how to treat a man.” Sitting back, Pavel took a sip of his water, all casual muscle. As if he wasn’t built like a god.

“How did your phone call with Ivan go?” Pavel asked.

Arwen scowled, his happy thoughts of sinking his teeth into all that muscle flying out of his head. “My cousin told me to stop hovering. Can you believe that? I do not hover.”

Throwing back his head, Pavel laughed that big beautiful laugh that was a lethal weapon. “Oh, moy luchik,” he murmured, waves of affection blanketing Arwen’s senses in a bearish caress, “you are the number one hoverer among all the hoverers I know.”

Arwen tried to look affronted. It was difficult. When Pavel laughed like that, with such good humor, it lit up Arwen’s entire world. “I just know how to look after my people,” he said primly. “Anyway, he’s fine. Settling into the pack like ‘a born cat’—as per my confidential source in the pack.”

Pavel rubbed his jaw. “I can see it. Mercants definitely remind me of cats. Slinky, smart, stealthy—and loyal to the core. My Mercant, though, he also has a heart big enough to love the entire world.” His voice softened on that last, those gorgeous eyes of his touched by the bear’s yellow-hued amber as he leaned in toward Arwen.

“So,” boomed Dedushka Viktor’s voice, “when are you two giving me great-grandchildren? I’m not getting any younger. And I know you already have volunteers willing to step up for the hardest part of the whole operation. Heat each other up, produce fresh seed, and next thing you know, DNA is spliced and you have a cub born of both of you and their mother.”

Groaning, Pavel turned and dropped his head to the table, proceeding to bang his forehead against it in a repetitive motion. Arwen, well used to dealing with a strong-willed grandparent, rose to his feet and held out his hand to Pavel’s maternal grandfather. “We’re not mature enough yet,” he said with a straight face. “Maybe in a decade or three.”

Instead of shaking his hand, the redheaded man responsible for the astonishing aqua green of Pavel’s eyes reached out to clap big tanned hands on either side of Arwen’s face. “Smartass.” A grin that lit up those familiar eyes. “Perfect fit for the family.” Then he pressed a kiss on Arwen’s forehead before releasing him from his grip.

Arwen couldn’t stop smiling as he walked around the table to greet Pavel’s babushka Quyen. As tall as Pavel but with bones as fine as a bird’s, Pavel’s grandmother—and Viktor’s mate—was as sweet as her husband was salty. She also gave the most amazing hugs with those thin but strong arms.

As he received one of her magic hugs, Arwen thought again of how he loved this—that Pavel’s family was as tight as his own.

The only reason Pavel’s paternal grandparents weren’t going to be at this dinner was that they’d gone to China to spend a couple of months with their daughter’s family. She’d mated into a clan of black bears there, and had recently given birth to a cub. Which might explain Dedushka Viktor’s desire to hurry Pavel and Arwen along.

Cub fever. It was contagious.

“Viktor,” Babushka Quyen said after she’d greeted Arwen. “Leave the boys alone. You know it embarrasses the young generation.” A confused wave of the hand at the clearly newfangled thinking. “We’re not supposed to know about the sex that produces the seed,” she said in a whisper no doubt heard from one end of the room to the other.

An unrelated bear out on a date doubled over in a sudden coughing fit just then.

Feeling his skin go bright red, Arwen returned to his seat beside Pavel, then dropped his face to the table and began to bang his forehead against the honey-colored wood of it.

Pavel patted his back. “It gets better. After a while, your forehead becomes stronger, doesn’t hurt as much.”

Arwen’s shoulders shook at his lover’s commiserating tone, and he was laughing out loud by the time he sat back up. Embarrassment of their grandcub complete for the moment, Pavel’s grandparents had taken the seats across from them and were discussing the menu, but the whole table erupted into movement again when Mila and Akili walked in.

Pavel’s tall and stunning mother, with those brilliant Kuznets family eyes and hair as red as passion, had grilled Arwen up one side and down the other when he first began to date Pavel.

Arwen absolutely adored her.

He’d grown up in a family of powerful and loving women, and was predisposed to worship their badassery.

To his great relief, the emotion was mutual.

When he rose to greet her, she kissed him on both cheeks, then pushed one lapel of his blazer aside so she could see the detail on his shirt. “What an intricate and creative design,” said the only bear in the family who cared about fashion—as evidenced by the stylish green off-the-shoulder sweater she’d paired with formfitting black jeans and black boots with visible silver zippers.

“And ai, my Pavka is still wearing that old T-shirt. People will think StoneWater doesn’t pay you,” she scolded her son, even as her love wrapped him up in a hug even before she kissed his cheeks.

Pavel’s father, Akili, took Arwen’s hand and drew him into a hug that ended with a companionable slap on the back. He was a few inches shorter than his mate, but built wider, with acres of heavy muscle. His skin was rich brown, his hair tight black curls that had skipped a generation, and his palm bore the calluses of a man who worked with the soil and the earth, his face creased with laugh lines.

“Oi!” Viktor said when Mila went to Quyen first. “Favoritism!” he complained morosely. “How quickly they forget which parent pretended to be a damn grass-eating horse for them.”

Mila laughed, conversation overlapped, loud and vibrant, and in that moment, Arwen could all but see the luminous threads of love that crisscrossed the family. It was in this generous and affectionate soil that Pavel had been planted, and where he’d grown.

As had the man who walked in just then, Theo’s hand held in his.

The movement around the table was quieter this time, the family taking in Theo with the same careful intensity with which they’d first taken in Arwen. He could feel her trepidation, the tension in every cell in her body. But Theo Marshall was used to hiding her emotions, used to putting on a stone face, and it was that face she showed Yakov’s family.

O Bozhe! Arwen wanted to leap across and whisper that that wasn’t the way to win the hearts of this group, but it was too late, and she was exchanging stiff greetings with each of the elders before sliding into a chair next to Pavel, with Yakov on her other side.