Chapter 52

Knew you wouldn’t get back till late so made you your favorite pasta and left it on the counter. Insulated container so it’ll stay hot. Watered your plant while I was there—poor abused thing looked about to keel over. I like your cat.

I don’t have a cat.

I think you have a cat now. Little bitty orange ball of fluff was sunning herself inside your apartment when I walked in. I went out to the grocer and got her a fresh piece of fish.

A cat can’t just move into my apartment.

I see you’ve never met a cat.

You’re joking right? Funny. Haha. But thanks for the food, Arwen. You’re a good friend.

(2 hours later)

Arwen, there’s a cat on my bed. It’s . . . meowing. What do I do with it?

Just love her. Easy.

—Message stream between Arwen Mercant and Genara Mercant (15 July 2083)

HE SHOULD’VE TELEPATHED her, Arwen thought too late, feeling awful about not thinking to give her a heads-up. He’d been around bears far longer, knew exactly how they reacted to coldness.

Pavel’s hand on his neck, massaging with the firm strokes that he knew Arwen loved. “Stop worrying,” his lover murmured in his ear, quiet enough that it would reach Arwen alone. “Yakov’s Psy can take care of herself. You just look after my Psy. He’s pretty special.”

Arwen’s heart melted.

He didn’t know how he’d been lucky enough to find such an all-encompassing love—and such a good man. Pasha called him loyal, but no one did loyal better than a bear. Once they found their people, bears stuck like superglue.

Arwen wanted the same kind of love for Theo. Because he could see the emotional bruises on her with stark clarity now. He wasn’t reading her. She’d just lowered her guard with him . . . had begun to trust him in a way subtle and unexpected. Theo might put on a stone face, but below that, she was a softness of wounds.

She needed warmth and love and acceptance.

“I want this to go well for her and for Yasha,” he whispered to Pavel. “She’s not like how she’s portraying herself.”

Pavel raised an eyebrow. “Silver,” he said in a quiet reminder. “Not exactly cuddly. Ever.” A chuckle. “And, you might not have noticed, but we adore her. Let Theo do her thing.”

Arwen went to reply, then shut his mouth. Pavel was right. His sister wasn’t only the StoneWater alpha’s mate in word, she was treated that way by the entire clan. They saw past her outwardly icy demeanor to a love for the clan as deadly and protective as a blade.

Bears, he remembered, were far, far cleverer than they liked to pretend.

“So,” Viktor boomed, “I hear you’re taking advantage of Yakov.”

Theo’s eyes widened . . . but she didn’t look away from the dominant bear. “I’m quite certain that there are very few people in the world who could take advantage of your grandson,” she said with diction precise and tone calm, while Yakov sat beside her with a smug look on his face.

The look of a bear who was proud of the person they’d chosen as their own. And the nonchalance of a man who knew his person could handle what was being thrown at them.

“Your grandson is a man of courage and heart,” Theo continued with zero fear. “I’m grateful for his assistance. You should feel lucky to have him in your family—in no situation is it acceptable to question his independence or will.”

Oh. My. God. Theo!

Arwen was never going to forgive himself for letting her walk into this unprepared.

Viktor’s eyes turned into narrow green windows. “You remind me of someone, Theo,” he said after a long pause. “My mama. She also had a way of telling me I was talking bullshit in an extremely polite tone of voice.”

Yakov, who’d taken a sip of water, almost spit it out. His grinning father slammed a fist helpfully on his back. Mila, on the other hand, reached over and poured Theo a glass of the nutrients they’d ordered as part of the drinks order for the table.

And Arwen finally breathed long enough to catch the emotions being broadcast . . . and realized that Theo had just won the respect of the patriarch of this family.

Pavel squeezed Arwen’s thigh under the table, shooting sensation electric and exciting right to his cock. He blushed, still not used to thinking in such raw terms. But Pavel’s words, when they came, were teasing and tender rather than sensual. “See, Arlusha moy,” he murmured, “Theo’s fine. You can strike her off your ‘watch over and worry’ list.”

Arwen made a face at him. “What if I can’t help it?” Worrying about the people who mattered to him was second nature—and for some reason, Theo Marshall, of all people, had made it onto his list.

It was the bruises, he thought, the ones she hid from all the world.

Pavel dropped a kiss on his ear, and Arwen could feel the heat of it going pink. “I know you can’t help it,” his bear murmured. “Your heart is huge and open and quite frankly”—a scowl—“gives me anxiety. I’m forever worrying about how thin you’ll spread yourself if you’re not careful.”

Reaching for his beer, he threw back half of it in a gulp before slamming it down on the table and meeting Arwen’s gaze again, his own the primal hue of his bear. “But I’m more than up for a lifetime of anxiety if I get to spend it with you.”