Chapter 57

Look, my love

The fallen autumn leaves are laughing

And the sky, it smiles such a bright, bright blue

The cool winds kiss our cheeks as we dance

And oh, my darling, what a dance it is

In your arms I become a song

And this wild music our love story

—“Love Story” by Adina Mercant, poet (b. 1832, d. 1901)

Editorial note: “Love Story” is widely considered Adina Mercant’s sweetest and most joyful piece of poetry, with none of the usual undertones that color her work. Some experts believe this was written in her youth, at the very start of her career, while others argue all indications are that it was penned in the final decade of her life, as a monument to her infamous, passionate, and enduring love affair with her husband.

“WHAT DID YOU figure out, my darling empath? That I am, in fact, the most charming bear you know?”

Plucking Pavel’s glasses off his nose, Arwen put them on the bedside table with care. “That you’re the smartest bear I know.”

Pavel’s cheeks dimpled. Those wicked dimples had seduced Arwen into many a bad decision, but today’s decision, it was the best one he’d ever made.

“Absolute truth, right there.” His lover’s grin was sunshine over Arwen’s senses. “But somehow I don’t believe it was thoughts of my genius that put that look on your face. What’s up?” Tugging him closer, Pavel nipped at his throat, their half-naked bodies rubbing against each other.

Arousal instant and rigid, Arwen wrapped his arms around his bear’s more heavily muscled form and tried to find his words again. “You’re scrambling my brain,” he complained.

Laughter, deep and husky. But Pavel pulled back enough to look into Arwen’s face. “I’ll give you two minutes before I have my way with you.”

Arwen pressed his forehead to Pavel’s. His erection throbbed, but that wasn’t the organ topmost on his mind. “I figured out that you’re right. I do have my own power in the world, in my family, in StoneWater.”

Empath. Collector of wounded souls. Chief hoverer over his loved ones.

That was who he was.

He had no reason to search for his place in the world.

He had one that was set in stone—because he’d claimed it a long, long time ago and only made it stronger with time.

He couldn’t remember giving Ivan his favorite toys as a child in an effort to make his cousin happy. He couldn’t remember crawling into Ena’s lap as a toddler when she was having a tough day and just patting her cheeks. He definitely couldn’t remember laughing so hard as a baby that he’d “filled the room with sunshine.”

Those stories had been relayed to him by others who cherished the memories. He did remember so many other things he’d done as he grew older. From ensuring that Silver didn’t fall too deep into the ice of control, to kidnapping his grandmother for a walk on the cliffs, to turning up to lunch with Uncle Rufus—complete with a fully prepared lunch—when that gruffly reclusive member of his family began to go “dark” to his senses.

And now, he worked with strangers who needed an empath’s gentleness, an empath’s ability to heal the mind and the heart.

Small things. Necessary things. Important things.

“I also,” he continued, “understand that I have my own power in our relationship, too.” Pavel might be protective, but no one did protective like an empath—they were just cat-sneaky about it. And if Pavel was dropping off care packages for him, Arwen was lighting candles and giving Pavel a soothing massage after a tough day.

No ledger. No tit for tat.

Just . . . looking after each other. Being able to lean on each other.

Because that was the thing—his Pasha bear leaned on him as much as Arwen leaned on his bear. Whether it was worry about his twin or a concern in the den, Pavel didn’t attempt to hide it from Arwen. Pavel treated Arwen as a partner, no matter if the news was good or grim.

Respect. Devotion. Love.

Arwen was so fucking lucky.

Pavel’s eyes turned bear, his claws pricking at Arwen’s back, as if they’d erupted without Pavel’s conscious decision. “Arlusha? You saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Yes.” His smile felt as if it would crack his face. “Will you marry me, Pasha bear?”

That was when the mating bond smashed into them both with the force of a hurricane, a blinding vortex of love and need, affection and lust, joy and hope, memories and laughter that had been held back far too long.

The primal power of it was through with waiting.

He saw his Pasha bear in ways he’d never seen or known another being his entire existence. And he knew Pasha saw him in turn. Their hearts and souls exposed, stripped to the core in a feral glory that demanded everything.

They stood shaking in the aftermath, their bodies slick with sweat.

When Pavel shifted them drunkenly to the bed, Arwen went. They collapsed onto it side by side, his right hand linked to Pavel’s left. Arwen stared at the ceiling for a full minute, until the sparks in front of his eyes were no longer a meteor shower. Then he turned to look at the bear whose chest was heaving beside him. “Wow.”

The dimples flashed.

It still took three minutes before they could breathe properly again.

At which point, Pavel rose up on one arm to look down at Arwen. “Mine,” he said smugly, and, one hand splayed on Arwen’s abdomen, took Arwen’s mouth in a kiss that was all possessive bear—wet and deep, tongue and sexual heat.

Arwen’s breathing was ragged in the aftermath, but he found himself grinning, too. “Mine,” he said, and leaned up to bite down on the curve of Pavel’s neck.

It wasn’t strictly a bear thing, the neck biting, but he’d figured out that his bear liked a hard bite or two. Now, Pavel groaned and ran his hand lower down Arwen’s body, to the bulge in his jeans. “I think you got the wrong size.” A teasing murmur that made goose bumps erupt over every inch of Arwen’s skin. “They feel a bit tight.”

Arwen might blush now and then, but he wasn’t a virgin anymore. Though that memory? Of Pasha so playful and gentle with him? Of caresses soft and kisses upon kisses, of a bubble bath and scented oils? He’d carry that in his heart to his grave, a treasure of tenderness from his rough-around-the-edges bear.

Holding Pavel’s wicked gaze, he played his bear’s sexy game. “Guess you better take them off, then.”

“Guess I better.” A flick of his hand and Arwen’s pants were undone, his zipper lowered.

Arwen went to lift his butt so that Pavel could pull off his jeans to throw them aside. Except instead of doing that, Pavel dipped his head to press a kiss on Arwen’s pecs. “Look at all this sleek muscle.” Another kiss, the caress of claws. “Mmm, I could eat you up.”

“Pasha.” Arwen wove his fingers into the thick silk of his lover’s hair. “I love you until it hurts.”

“Good,” said the bear whose own love was fur over Arwen’s senses, a knowing that his empathic heart snuggled into with delight. “Serves you right for making me crazy for you.” This time, the kiss held teeth.

Laughing, aroused, and delighted at the same time, he watched as Pavel finally got rid of the too-tight jeans. His formfitting black underwear didn’t last much longer—and neither did Pavel’s clothes.

Skin on skin, lips on lips, they sank into intimate skin privileges with the giddy wonder of lovers who knew this was it.

Mates were forever.

“My beautiful luchik sveta.” Growly words, Pavel’s big hand on one of Arwen’s more slender thighs as he braced himself over Arwen on his other arm. “You light up my world.”

Cock engorged to breaking point, and heart stamped with Pavel’s name, Arwen hauled him down with a hand on the back of his head, and bit down on his lower lip. That got him a bearish rumble, and a kiss as raw and untamed as the man in his arms.

His man. Forever.

Empaths could be smug, too.

By the time Pavel scraped Arwen’s throat with his teeth before saying, “Where is it?” in a tone gritty with need, Arwen wanted only to have him inside him, the two of them connected in the body as they were in the heart and the soul.

“Side pocket,” he gasped. “Overnight bag.”

Moving with a speed startling if you didn’t know bears, Pavel was back with the slender tube in hand two seconds later, all gleaming skin and taut muscle. “Delicious Berrylicious flavor? Seriously?” He groaned as he read the label. “I can feel my extremely manly balls shriveling up.”

“You have nothing to worry about. You’re hung like a bear.”

A burst of laughter deep and familiar and oh-so-loved, and then the maligned lube was being put to good use. But today . . . today, the lust was secondary. Today, Arwen cried because they were mated, the bond between them a thing of claws and fur with a dusting of diamond gray, shining yet soft.

“You never told me it would be so beautiful,” he whispered.

Pavel buried his face in Arwen’s neck as he curled around Arwen from behind, his powerful body beginning to move inside Arwen in a rhythm that was no longer smooth. “I didn’t know.”

Arwen tried to speak, lost his words.

There was only skin and heat and need . . . and love. So much love.

When the orgasm hit, hard and deep, he was dazzled by both his pleasure and Pavel’s own. The double jolt made the erotic waves last and last and last, and they were both limp and sweat-damp in the aftermath when Pavel said, “Yes, I’ll marry you, svetlyi luchik moy. Under the sky in a slick suit, with all the people we love, all the people you look after, as our witnesses.”