Adelaide

I don’t even know how I got to Gunnar’s house or how I knew where he lived, but maybe it was my intoxicated state that let my guard down, allowing the voice to guide me. I’d told the driver where to turn, while my friends giggled in the backseat, thinking I’d completely lost my mind.

And yet I’d found him.

Or he’d led me here.

God, you’re beautiful, that same voice that had called to me says. But it’s more than words, it’s like I can feel Gunnar’s essence, his desires and needs, even his insecurities, which right now are centered around me forgiving him, accepting him.

And I want to.

But first I need answers. Whatever this thing is between us, if it’s going to work, I need to know the truth...about everything.

He stalks back toward me as the taxi drives off and the feral look in his eyes has me taking a step back.

I’m a little tipsy. Okay, probably more than a little, but I still know my mind, know what I have to ask him.

I put my hand up, my palm resting on his chest, stopping him from coming any closer. “I heard you.”

“What did you hear?”

“Your voice. In my head. How did you do that?”

His shoulder lifts and falls. “I don’t know. But you can do it too.” He leans closer, his scent filling my nostrils, fresh and earthy and all male.

It makes my brain go foggy, but I blink and try and to stay focused. “What do you mean?”

“I hear you too.” His palm covers my hand that’s still on his chest, over his heart. “We’re connected.”

“Okay,” I say, voice shaky. “Say I believe that. Believe all of this—”

“It’s not about whether you believe it, but whether you’re able to accept it, accept me.”

That’s his fear, that I’ll reject him. I don’t want to, but...

“My grandfather...”

He winces, walking past me and heading toward his bedroom. I follow him, watching as he reaches for a pair of sweats and pulls them on. Even though I want to give into the physical pulse drawing me to Gunnar, I need the truth more.

“I need to know what really happened,” I tell him.

He nods. “I know. And I wish I could give it to you. But honestly, that day is a blur. I just remember my dad—”

“Your dad?”

Grief pulls at his features as he sits down on his bed. “We’d been roaming the woods. There’d been a grizzly spotting. They’re not allowed in these parts, and...” He shakes his head. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’d gone too far south. My father had warned me my entire life not to roam that area in bear form. It was Spencer land. But I’d caught the scent of the grizzly...and then, I’d seen you.”

I swallow, still standing in the doorway of his bedroom, watching him as he struggles with the memories. The memories that are becoming clear and vivid like I’m reliving them.

My bear.

Had I known then who he was? Were our souls already destined to be together? It wouldn’t be any odder than anything else that’d happened.

“There’d been another bear,” I offer, letting him know that I remember.

His lips stretch tight. “My dad. Your grandfather shot him. Killed him...”

“Oh, Gunnar, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“He was protecting you. I have to believe that.” His brows furrow and I can tell he’s not a hundred percent convinced. “There’d been some attacks earlier that year. Rogue grizzlies that were never caught.” His face twists in grief. “I don’t remember attacking him, maybe I’ve blocked it out...” He presses his knuckles to his mouth and closes his eyes. “But not a day has gone by that I haven’t felt the guilt over it.”

“That’s a heavy burden to carry.”

“One I deserve. But one that I also hope you’ll eventually be able to forgive me for.”

If I hold onto my distrust, my blame, then I should stop this thing between us now. But there’s the connection, the way I can feel him...the way I know his heart just by being in his presence.

It’s the heart of a good man, not a killer. Whatever happened in those woods all those years ago wasn’t cold-blooded murder, it was a response to watching his father being gunned down.

I walk toward Gunnar, dropping to my knees in front of him, needing the truth. “You said that you have to believe my grandfather was only protecting me. What did you mean by that?”

His jaw tenses and his lips thin, but he shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does. Tell me. Please.”

He sighs. “There was a feud between your grandfather and mine, went back a few generations. Something stupid over the purchase of land. They were still civil, but there are some that believe your grandfather knew what we are, that he knew the truth about us.”

My brain wraps itself around what he’s saying. “If he knew about...shifters, then he knew he was really shooting a man. That would mean...”

He cups the back of my head and forces me to look at him. “Again, I don’t believe the rumors. And even if he did know, he was protecting you. I would have done the same.”

A memory flashes in my mind, the warmth of a large body pressed against me, my fingers gripping onto fur as danger surrounds us. But it’s too fuzzy to hold onto. I blink up at Gunnar.

God, the man is gorgeous. But more than that, he’s good. Honorable. And worthy of my forgiveness, even if neither of us ever get the real truth of what happened that day so many years ago.

What matters is now.

I reach up and run my hand over his freshly shaven jaw. I’m not sure which I like better on him, the beard or this. It doesn’t really matter, either way, he looks all man, hard edges except for his mouth, lips that are soft, parted and waiting for mine.

But first, “I forgive you, Gunnar. And I think it’s time you forgave yourself.”

He inhales sharply. “You’re sure about that?”

“Yes.” I move closer, in between his legs, and my body aches for more. For him. “Maybe I could show you how very much I’ve forgiven you,” I say, my hand running up his thigh, over his groin. There is a growing bulge that has me licking my lips.

He growls, low and needy, and runs his big hands through my hair, his thumb is on my chin, drawing it ever closer.

“I want you so fucking bad, Adelaide Spencer,” he tells me, his eyes blazing with intensity.

“Good,” I manage to whisper. “Because I need you to ravish me.”

“Not scared of bears anymore, is that it?” he asks when I hook my thumbs in his sweats and push them down. He groans as I take out his thick, long cock, and stroke my palm up the velvety length.

I shake my head. “No, I’m just not scared of you, Gunnar. I trust you. Completely.”

“Good,” he says, breathing me in. “Because I trust you too.”

I lift my eyebrows, looking him in the eyes. It’s like we made a pact. A promise. For now, at least, we are in this together.