Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 138217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Our family is what it is because of your heart, grandchild of mine. That’s why we protect it so fiercely. Because it has been our salvation.
I love how you love your people, moy svetlyi luchik.
“Hey.” Pavel stood in the doorway, a glass of water in hand. “Why so serious?” Walking over, he placed the glass on the bedstand on Arwen’s side of the bed, then reached up to rub at his frown lines.
“I just figured it out,” Arwen said, dropping the shirt to the bed.
Chapter 57
Look, my love
The fallen autumn leaves are laughing
And the sky, it smiles such a bright, bright blue
The cool winds kiss our cheeks as we dance
And oh, my darling, what a dance it is
In your arms I become a song
And this wild music our love story
—“Love Story” by Adina Mercant, poet (b. 1832, d. 1901)
Editorial note: “Love Story” is widely considered Adina Mercant’s sweetest and most joyful piece of poetry, with none of the usual undertones that color her work. Some experts believe this was written in her youth, at the very start of her career, while others argue all indications are that it was penned in the final decade of her life, as a monument to her infamous, passionate, and enduring love affair with her husband.
“WHAT DID YOU figure out, my darling empath? That I am, in fact, the most charming bear you know?”
Plucking Pavel’s glasses off his nose, Arwen put them on the bedside table with care. “That you’re the smartest bear I know.”
Pavel’s cheeks dimpled. Those wicked dimples had seduced Arwen into many a bad decision, but today’s decision, it was the best one he’d ever made.
“Absolute truth, right there.” His lover’s grin was sunshine over Arwen’s senses. “But somehow I don’t believe it was thoughts of my genius that put that look on your face. What’s up?” Tugging him closer, Pavel nipped at his throat, their half-naked bodies rubbing against each other.
Arousal instant and rigid, Arwen wrapped his arms around his bear’s more heavily muscled form and tried to find his words again. “You’re scrambling my brain,” he complained.
Laughter, deep and husky. But Pavel pulled back enough to look into Arwen’s face. “I’ll give you two minutes before I have my way with you.”
Arwen pressed his forehead to Pavel’s. His erection throbbed, but that wasn’t the organ topmost on his mind. “I figured out that you’re right. I do have my own power in the world, in my family, in StoneWater.”
Empath. Collector of wounded souls. Chief hoverer over his loved ones.
That was who he was.
He had no reason to search for his place in the world.
He had one that was set in stone—because he’d claimed it a long, long time ago and only made it stronger with time.
He couldn’t remember giving Ivan his favorite toys as a child in an effort to make his cousin happy. He couldn’t remember crawling into Ena’s lap as a toddler when she was having a tough day and just patting her cheeks. He definitely couldn’t remember laughing so hard as a baby that he’d “filled the room with sunshine.”
Those stories had been relayed to him by others who cherished the memories. He did remember so many other things he’d done as he grew older. From ensuring that Silver didn’t fall too deep into the ice of control, to kidnapping his grandmother for a walk on the cliffs, to turning up to lunch with Uncle Rufus—complete with a fully prepared lunch—when that gruffly reclusive member of his family began to go “dark” to his senses.
And now, he worked with strangers who needed an empath’s gentleness, an empath’s ability to heal the mind and the heart.
Small things. Necessary things. Important things.
“I also,” he continued, “understand that I have my own power in our relationship, too.” Pavel might be protective, but no one did protective like an empath—they were just cat-sneaky about it. And if Pavel was dropping off care packages for him, Arwen was lighting candles and giving Pavel a soothing massage after a tough day.
No ledger. No tit for tat.
Just . . . looking after each other. Being able to lean on each other.
Because that was the thing—his Pasha bear leaned on him as much as Arwen leaned on his bear. Whether it was worry about his twin or a concern in the den, Pavel didn’t attempt to hide it from Arwen. Pavel treated Arwen as a partner, no matter if the news was good or grim.
Respect. Devotion. Love.
Arwen was so fucking lucky.
Pavel’s eyes turned bear, his claws pricking at Arwen’s back, as if they’d erupted without Pavel’s conscious decision. “Arlusha? You saying what I think you’re saying?”
“Yes.” His smile felt as if it would crack his face. “Will you marry me, Pasha bear?”
That was when the mating bond smashed into them both with the force of a hurricane, a blinding vortex of love and need, affection and lust, joy and hope, memories and laughter that had been held back far too long.