Because he was still in bear form.
Cal’s bear-eyes tracked around the space, taking in details his human brain struggled to process. He was in a storeroom—Dahlia’s storeroom, judging by the shelves of enchanted flourand spelled sugar, the bins of magical ingredients that lined the walls. He was curled on a pile of flour sacks that had been arranged into a nest, his massive body taking up nearly half the available floor space.
Her scent was everywhere. Soaked into the walls, the floor, the very air. His bear inhaled deeply, tension unknotting at the familiar sweetness.
And he couldn’t shift back.
He tried. Reached for the human part of himself, the control he’d honed over decades of practice. But his bear didn’t budge. The animal was firmly, immovably in charge, and it had no intention of giving up control anytime soon.
Panic flickered at the edges of his awareness—heart racing, breath quickening, the claustrophobic sensation of being trapped in his own skin.
“Oh, good, you’re awake.”
Dahlia looked up from her cookbook, completely unruffled by the fact that there was a six-hundred-pound grizzly bear in her storage room. She dog-eared her page—a recipe for lavender shortbread, Cal’s sharp bear-eyes noted—and set the book aside.
“You’ve been out for about four hours.” She stood, stretching, and moved to a small table against the wall. “Theo and Wyatt followed you here to make sure you were okay.”
Cal made another sound—somewhere between a grunt and a whine. His bear, the traitor, seemed deeply satisfied with its choice of location.
“Don’t worry.” Dahlia returned with a jar in her hands. Honey, golden and thick, from their harvest at the apiaries. “Your bear decided you needed rest. So you’re resting. I brought honey.”
She said it so matter-of-factly. As if having an unconscious bear shifter deposited in her storage room was a perfectly normal occurrence. As if she hadn’t had her entire livelihoodthreatened, hadn’t spent the past days frantically researching boundary stones and ward magic, hadn’t kissed him senseless in Town Hall less than a week ago.
She accepted it. Accepted him.
The animal in Cal stretched with contentment.
Dahlia knelt beside him, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from her skin. She unscrewed the honey jar and held it out.
“Go on. You need to eat. I don’t know how long it’s been since you had actual food, but judging by how you looked when they carried you in, I’m guessing too long.”
He shouldn’t. He should be trying to shift back, to regain control, to apologize for invading her space and imposing on her time and?—
His bear’s massive tongue lapped at the honey before his human brain could object.
The sweetness burst across his senses—rich, golden, magical. Honey from the Ursa apiaries, harvested by Dahlia’s own hands. A rumble built low in his throat—not quite a growl, not quite contentment. Somewhere in between.
“That’s better.” Dahlia’s voice was soft. Her hand came up, hesitated, then rested on the thick fur between his ears. “Rest, Cal. Whatever you’ve been running from, whatever you’ve been pushing yourself toward—it can wait. You’re safe here.”
Her fingers scratched gently, finding the spot that made his bear’s eyes half-close with pleasure.
Safe. When was the last time he’d felt safe? When was the last time he’d let his guard down, let someone else hold the watch, trusted that the world wouldn’t fall apart if he closed his eyes for a few hours?
He couldn’t remember.
His massive head lowered, settling onto his paws. Dahlia kept scratching, kept murmuring quiet nonsense, and Cal’s bear—satisfied that it had found what it was looking for—let him drift back into darkness.
TWENTY-SIX
CAL
Time became meaningless.
Cal drifted in and out of consciousness, never fully awake but never deeply asleep. His bear held the reins, keeping him in shifted form, forcing his body to rest in a way his human mind had refused to allow for months. Maybe years.
Dahlia moved around him like water around a stone—seamless, unhurried, unbothered. He heard her footsteps, light and sure. Smelled the changing scents as she worked: bread rising, pastry baking, sugar caramelizing. Felt the brush of her hand across his fur when she passed, casual touches that grounded him to the present.
She talked to him.
