“Wait.” Cassia’s hand shot up. “He shifted involuntarily? His bear seized control?”
“He hadn’t slept in days.” Dahlia traced the rim of her untouched wine glass. “Wyatt called it a forced hibernation response—his bear had gone dormant from burnout, and when Cal pushed past the breaking point, the animal took over.”
“And his bear brought himhere.” Junie’s voice had gone soft. “To you. Of all the places it could have gone.”
“Theo and Beck followed him.” Dahlia’s throat closed around the memory. “Six hundred pounds of grizzly bear, curled up on my flour sacks. I brought him honey and read him recipe journals for hours. Like he was an oversized cat who’d claimed my storeroom.”
“That’s disgustingly sweet.” Cassia pressed a hand over her heart. “I hate it. I’m going to electrocute a tree later to balance out the feelings.”
“He woke up human after twelve hours.” The words came harder—closer to the core of it. “He looked so broken. Like he’d been running so long, he’d forgotten any other way to live. And when he opened his eyes and saw me there, he looked at me like?—”
Her voice cracked.
“Like you were everything.” Narla’s low voice completed the thought from her shadowed corner. “The way James used to look at me. Before.”
The room went still. Narla rarely spoke about her late husband—the bear shifter she’d lost eight years ago, the grief she still wore like a second skin beneath her calm exterior.
“I don’t know what to do about it.” The admission scraped out raw. “Not the land dispute. Not Magnus.Him. Cal. I think I’m in far deeper than I know how to handle.”
The silence stretched.Avine settled on the arm of Dahlia’s chair, her hand finding Dahlia’s shoulder. Junie drew her knees to her chest. Cassia’s static settled. Even Gust went still.
Then Narla rose from her shadowed corner, moving with her characteristic fluid grace. She stopped in front of Dahlia’s chair, dark eyes holding hers with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. “I was married to a bear for twenty-three years. I know how they love. When a bear truly chooses someone—not casually, not temporarily, but chooses—it’s not a thing they can walk away from. No matter how much their human side might want to try.”
Dahlia’s breath caught. “You think that’s what’s happening? A bear choosing?”
Narla tilted her head, considering. Then she leaned close—close enough that Dahlia could smell the lavender and beeswax that clung to her skin, the signature scent of her candle magic—and inhaled deeply.
“His scent has changed.” The words fell into the room with the weight of revelation. “When I saw him at the brewery a week ago, he smelled like exhaustion and stress and mountain air. Underneath it all, the sharp musk of bear.” She pulled back, knowledge in her dark gaze.
The room erupted.
“Holy shit,” Cassia breathed, static crackling through her curls.
“Scent mingling.” Junie’s eyes had gone wide. “That doesn’t happen unless?—”
“Unless a bond is forming.” Avine’s hand tightened on Dahlia’s shoulder. “Theo’s scent changed after our first night. It took weeks for most people to notice.”
Dahlia felt the blood drain from her face. “We haven’t—I mean, we’ve kissed, but we didn’t?—”
“Scent mingling isn’t about sex.” Narla returned to her corner, to the shadows. “It’s about proximity. Intimacy. Time spent close enough that your essences begin to recognize each other.” She eased into her chair. “Twelve hours beside him while he slept. Breathing the same air. Your presence seeping into his bones while he rested. That’s intimacy, Dahlia. That’s your magic learning his.”
Dahlia’s hand rose to her throat. Her pulse hammered against her fingertips, too fast, too hard.
From her perch on the bookcase, Marzipan watched Dahlia with unblinking golden eyes.
“Even your cat can’t argue with it.” Junie laughed, though moisture glinted in her eyes. “Face it, Dahlia. The universe is conspiring.”
TWENTY-NINE
DAHLIA
Aknock at the door interrupted whatever Dahlia might have said next.
Junie jumped up immediately. “That’ll be Rosemary. Her equipment shipment got delayed, and she’s stuck in town another night. I told her we were here.”
Rosemary. Junie’s cousin—the marine biologist who’d met Beck at Junie and Leo’s mating reception. The woman who’d spent three weeks with a wolf shifter before sailing away to the Pacific, leaving behind heartbreak on both sides.
The door opened. Rosemary Reed stepped through, and Dahlia understood immediately why Beck Driscoll hadn’t been himself for months.
