Page 2 of Titan’s Mate

Brave, she told herself. Just because you’re not a predator, doesn’t mean you can’t be brave. And you have to talk to him soon. There’s not much time left.

Tonight. She’d do it tonight, after the ceremony.

As if thinking of him had magically made him appear, he stepped out of the woods at the opposite side of the clearing, carrying the last grave marker.

Just as on the last two nights, she caught her breath when she saw him. He was the biggest man she’d ever seen—and the most beautiful.

He was heavily muscled, with a huge chest and powerful legs. His hair shone silver, streaming down to his shoulders as if it were made of moonlight. She couldn’t see his eyes right now, but she’d seen pictures of him online, and they were an odd silvery color, like liquid mercury.

Eyes that could see spirits.

He was dressed only in a pair of buckskin pants raggedly cut off at the knees and straining over his thighs. His feet were bare, as if it wasn’t twenty freakin’ degrees out.

Of course, he was a polar bear. He was probably used to stomping around on the tundra.

She watched, mesmerized, as he put the grave marker carefully down, and then loosened the drawstring of his pants and let them slide to the ground.

Mari tried to tell herself this wasn’t the reason she kept coming back to watch his ritual, instead of knocking on his door like a normal person. Because sneaking around to watch him naked would be rude and perverted, right? But she couldn’t stop looking at him because he was so gorgeous—perfectly proportioned in spite of being so big. Muscled thighs, rippling abs, a world-class butt, and between his legs…

Stop that, Mari told herself sternly. Stop it right now. He was a shaman, which was kind of like a priest in his clan, and it was probably definitely sacrilegious to ogle his peener during a solemn ritual. She pinched herself as a penance and mentally apologized to whatever gods he worshiped.

Although it really was an awesome peener. She hoped shamans in his clan weren’t sworn to celibacy, because that would be such a waste. For him, of course. His peener had nothing whatsoever to do with her. At all.

She pinched herself again, and tried to stop looking at the… thing she was absolutely for-sure not looking at.

Or his world-class butt.

Think of something else.

His name was Titan. She knew that, from stalking him online.

She also knew he was an artist—a sculptor. And he liked to read. She knew those things from peeking through the windows of his cabin while stalking him in person, trying to get up the guts to talk to him.

One entire wall of his living room was nothing but bookshelves, crammed full, calling out to be read. He also had one whole cupboard that was nothing but snacks. The good kind—donuts and cupcakes and chips and cheese balls.

Mari loved books. And cheese balls. It had taken all her willpower not to break in, snuggle up on his comfy saggy couch with a soft blanket, grab the snacks and dive into a book, hopefully without getting orange cheese ball dust on too many of the pages.

Her stomach growled. She was seriously hungry—she hadn’t found much to eat in the woods the last couple days, and she’d eaten everything in her backpack.

She turned her attention back to Titan.

While she’d been thinking about books and fireplaces and cheese balls, he’d been adorning himself with body paint in a pattern of lines and circles—red, white and black. He was finishing his face now, chanting under his breath in a language she didn’t recognize.

Then he went still, closing his eyes. Someone else might have thought he was praying, but Mari had seen the look on his face before. Every time she looked in the mirror.

He was gathering up his willpower, trying to make himself face something he didn’t want to face.

Death.

For him, it was other people’s. For her, it was her own.

But it still took everything he had. She could see it.

Finally he picked up the grave marker, took a deep breath, and walked over to the final grave.

Chapter 2

The grave marker felt heavy in Titan’s hands. The last marker, for the last of his clan.