Page 57 of Bear and Book

As he walked away, I groaned under my breath, scrubbing a hand down my face.

What the hell had I let into my home?

And more importantly, how the hell was I going to get him out again?

* * *

I paced the living room, fingers twitching at my sides. Jason was still in the bathroom. More likely, he was in my bedroom, snooping. My fox bristled, hackles raised.

I’d been rehearsing ways to shove him out, to make it crystal clear that he had no place here.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to claw at him until he was gone, but part of me worried that if I pushed too hard, he’d dig in deeper, like he always did.

That’s when the doorbell rang. Sharp and sudden. The sound sliced through the air, followed immediately by a heavy, insistent knock. I froze.

Jason couldn’t have called someone, could he? Some friend, some backup? My heart thudded painfully, adrenaline flooding me. The knocking came again, louder this time. Whoever it was wasn’t leaving.

Cautiously, I moved to the door, pulse racing. I opened it and nearly collapsed with relief.

Leo.

He stood there, flushed, damp with sweat as though he’d run the whole way. His hair was mussed, his chest heaving, his eyes wild with worry.

“Leo,” I breathed, the tension in my chest breaking.

Before I could say another word, his gaze swept over me, sharp and searching, and then his arms were around me.

Leo pulled me into him, and the dam inside me shattered. I melted against his chest, the heat and solidity of him anchoring me in a way nothing else could.

His arms were strong, steady, unyielding as they wrapped me tight. His scent hit me, grounding me, the warm cedar-and-sunshine smell that was purely Leo.

“You’re safe,” Leo whispered, his voice fierce and trembling all at once. “God, Elias, I was so worried when you didn’t answer my texts or calls.”

The words pierced something raw in me. I buried my face into his chest, clutching fistfuls of his shirt like I never wanted to let go.

His heartbeat pounded against my ear, steady and sure, and every bit of tension I’d been holding drained out of me in a rush.

He stroked my back without hesitation, fingers threading gently through my hair, soothing me in ways he couldn’t have known I needed. But he did, he always did.

“What’s wrong?” Leo asked softly, hand still moving up and down my spine. “Were you sick? Is that why you didn’t answer? Dang it, I should’ve brought soup. Or meds.”

I almost laughed, a wet, shaky sound that barely escaped. Leo wasn’t even angry. Not once did his tone sharpen, not once did he accuse. Just worry and concern.

Jason would have exploded, demanded explanations, turned it into a fight. But Leo, Leo’s first thought was to care for me.

My chest warmed painfully, but reality crashed in quickly, dousing that warmth with dread.

“Leo,” I said, gripping his forearm, desperate to make him understand. “I’m not sick. But you have to know⁠—”

The sound of a toilet flushing cut me off.

Leo stilled. Every muscle in his body went rigid. His nostrils flared, and then he sniffed the air. I felt it the same moment he did.

Jason’s scent wafting back toward us, bitter and sharp, cutting through the comfort of Leo’s presence like a blade. My fox shrank back in shame even as it bristled in warning.

“Elias.”

Leo’s voice was different now. It was rougher, deeper. A growl rolled beneath it, low and dangerous, vibrating through his chest where I still leaned. His grip on me tightened possessively.