“I’m sorry.”
“You should be.” But she’s definitely fighting a smile now. “You let me agonize for days. Days, Tolin. I lay in thatguest room bed wondering why I couldn’t stop thinking about the mean bear man who yelled at me about a chair.”
“I didn’t yell about the chair. I firmly expressed my preferences.”
“You yelled.”
“I was passionate.”
She snorts, and the sound breaks the tension. She’s not angry. Annoyed, maybe. Amused, definitely. But not angry.
“So let me get this straight,” she says, settling back against the pillows. “You knew I was your fated mate since the first night. You spent the next several days being alternately terrible and wonderful to me. You fingered me, showed me your bear, and then claimed me as yours forever. All without mentioning that we were literally destined for each other.”
“When you put it like that, it sounds bad.”
“It sounds ridiculous.” She shakes her head, but she’s smiling now, a real smile that reaches her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe.” I reach out and pull her into my lap, drawing her against me. “But I’m your ridiculous now. You’re stuck with me.”
“Apparently so.” She traces the mark on her neck again, her fingers gentle against the raised skin. “So this is permanent?”
“Yes.”
“And the heightened senses?”
“Those will settle eventually. Your body is adjusting to the bond.”
“And us?” She looks up at me, her eyes searching. “What does this mean for us? What happens now?”
I cup her face in my hands, making sure she can see the truth in my eyes.
“It means you’re not leaving me. Ever.” I brush my thumb across her cheek. “It means we’re going to build a life together. Here, on this mountain, or wherever you want to be. It means I’m going to spend every day for the rest of my life making sure you have everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”
“The green chair?”
“The green chair. And the home to put it in. And anything else you want.”
“And if I want a family someday? Kids?”
My bear practically purrs at the thought. Cubs. Our mate wants cubs.
“Then we’ll have a family.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “As many kids as you want. I’ll give you everything, Imani. Anything. Just say the word.”
She’s quiet for a moment, leaning into my touch. The warmth coming from her is unmistakable, tender and deep. Love, I hope.
“I’m sore,” she finally says.
“I’m not surprised. I wasn’t gentle.”
“No, you weren’t.” But she’s smiling. “I’m also starving. And I think I need a bath.”
I press a kiss to her hair and shift her off my lap, rising from the bed. “Stay here. I’ll run you a bath.”
“You don’t have to?—“
“I want to.” I look back at her from the doorway, taking in the sight of her in my bed, wearing my mark, her curly hair wild around her face. “Let me take care of you.”
She settles back against the pillows with a sigh. “Fine. But I expect bubbles.”
