"Pathetic," I growled at myself, running my free hand through hair that had grown longer than I usually kept it. "A century old and still a coward."
My bear disagreed, pushing against my consciousness with unusual force. It had recognized Mishka as mate long before I was willing to acknowledge what he'd become to me. The animal operated on instinct, unencumbered by human doubts and hesitations.
I envied its clarity.
"You'd think I'd have figured this out sooner," I said, returning to our one-sided conversation. "A hundred plus years gives a man time to understand himself. Or so I thought."
The night deepened around us, the room now illuminated only by the soft glow of monitoring equipment and the city lights beyond the windows. In this half-darkness, with no witnesses but machines, I finally found my courage.
"I love you," I whispered, the words falling into the quiet room like stones into still water. "Now wake up and mock me for it."
The confession hung in the air—three words I'd never spoken to anyone, not in a hundred years of life. They should have felt foreign on my tongue, awkward and contrived. Instead, they felt like truth I'd been denying far too long.
For a moment, nothing changed. The monitors continued their steady rhythm, the shadows remained fixed across the room, and Mishka lay still beneath the crisp white sheets.
Then—a twitch so subtle I might have imagined it if not for my enhanced senses. Mishka's fingers moved against mine, a flicker of response after a month of stillness.
I froze, barely daring to breathe. "Mishka?"
The electronic signature surrounding him pulsed stronger, the green glow brightening to an intensity I hadn't seen since before O'Rourke's facility. His eyelids fluttered, struggling against the weight of a month's sleep.
"If you're doing this to avoid answering me, it's a particularly cruel tactic," I said, leaning closer, my heart thundering against my ribs with a force that almost hurt.
Then those eyes—those vivid green eyes I'd been dreaming about for weeks—finally opened, unfocused at first, then gradually sharpening as they found my face.
"Medved?" The word was barely audible, his voice rough from disuse, but it struck me like a physical blow.
My hand tightened around his, the relief flooding through me with such force I nearly lost my composure entirely. My bear roared in triumph beneath my skin, demanding I gather Mishka into my arms, claim him, protect him, and never let him go again.
I restrained myself with effort that left me trembling, forcing my voice into some semblance of its usual gruffness.
"About time," I growled, though the words emerged gentler than intended. "I was beginning to think you were just avoiding my cooking."
A faint smile tugged at his lips, and even that small expression sent a wave of relief through me so powerful I had to tighten my grip on the chair to remain upright.
"How long?" he managed, each word clearly an effort.
"A month," I answered, unable to keep the strain from my voice despite my attempt at nonchalance. "You've been keeping us waiting for a month,malysh."
His gaze drifted around the room, taking in the medical equipment, the stacks of files, the evidence of my extended vigil. His eyes widened slightly as understanding dawned.
"You stayed," he whispered, the simple observation cutting straight through a century of carefully constructed defenses.
"Of course I stayed," I replied, the words emerging rough with emotion I couldn't quite contain. "Where else would I be?"
The tremor in my voice betrayed me, as did the way my thumb continued its restless circles against his palm. For all my attempts to maintain my stoic exterior, I might as well have been shouting my feelings from the rooftop.
And from the knowing look that flickered across Mishka's exhausted face, I suspected he'd heard my confession after all.
Chapter Seventeen
~ Mishka ~
I woke to the feeling of being watched. Again. After a week of consciousness following my month-long coma, you'd think Nicolai would have gotten over the novelty of me opening my eyes. But no, there he was, a massive shadow in the corner armchair, his gaze so intense I could practically feel it burning into my skin.
I sighed and shifted against the silk sheets that cost more than most people's monthly rent. This overprotective bear shifter routine was getting old fast.
"I can hear you breathing, you know," I muttered, not bothering to open my eyes yet. "It's creepy to watch people sleep."
