He held silent there, his eyes burning into her. He wanted her response, but she had nothing to say. Her mouth was dry and her heart was beating a thousand times a second. So she couldn’t speak. She could only listen to the anguish in his words as he continued.
“That’s what I did today, Alyssa. I figured out how to kill Nanook and how to consolidate his power under me. I left guns out so I could learn quickly who was the most impulsive and the biggest threat. I left them knowing someone was going to shoot at me while I was standing next to you.” He arched his brow. “Is that a bear thing to do, Alyssa? Risk the alpha female’s life for a power gain?”
She shuddered, not wanting to relive that moment. At the time, all she’d felt was a sudden tension as Simon had spun around and shot twice. She’d seen the dead man’s gun go flying, knew it had been self-defense, but hadn’t for a moment thought about where she’d been standing when the bullets started flying. All she’d known was that someone had been about to shoot Simon. But he was right. A fraction of an inch shift, and she would have taken the bullet instead of him.
The very idea left her skin clammy while nausea climbed in her throat. Then she heard Simon curse and suddenly she was upended. It was like a repeat of yesterday, only this time, she hadn’t been sobbing on his shirt. This time she’d simply been thinking about the day and suddenly he was carrying her again.
She had the wherewithal to keep hold of her purse, but beyond that, her head dropped against his shoulder and she clenched her eyes shut. Her free hand wrapped around his shoulder and gripped tight.
It was stupid to take comfort in his strength. His heat made his scent even more heady and the steady shift of his body as he maneuvered through the dispensary to her apartment was lulling. But still, some part of her had to protest.
“I wasn’t going to faint,” she said against his neck. More like throw up, but she wasn’t about to admit that.
“Did you get any of that pizza?”
No.The men had gobbled it all down. She’d managed a diet soda though, which was more than what he’d had.
They made it to her door and he set her on her feet. She didn’t wobble, thank God. She also didn’t protest when he pulled the keys from her unresisting fingers and unlocked her front door.
“Well, order another pizza now,” he grumbled. “You have to eat.”
Not after the way he’d curled his lip at the order this evening. “There’s lasagna in the freezer. We can microwave it faster than any delivery.”
He stilled as he looked at her, his eyes lighting with surprise. “Really?”
She shrugged. “I don’t just make brownies. There are chicken potpies, too. That’s the Tupperware in the refrigerator.”
“Which is faster?”
“Potpies.”
He grabbed those while she dropped down onto her couch. Her head fell back, and she closed her eyes. She pretended she could still smell Irish Spring and feel his arms around her. And she didn’t open them again until she heard him cursing.
When she looked, he was staring at the microwave, his finger hovering over the buttons. It took her a moment to figure out the problem, and then she remembered he couldn’t read. “See the rows of white buttons?” she said. “Second one down on the left says ‘Reheat.’ That’s what you need.”
He traced his finger over and pressed. But after the microwave started, he remained there staring. He was right. He needed to remember how to read. Even the simplest tasks in life required literacy.
“First thing tomorrow,” she said gently. “We’ll start with the basic alphabet and—”
“No!” he said, spinning around with a snarl. “Now!”
She didn’t argue with him. She could already tell he wasn’t in a rational enough place for words. Which meant she had to look deeper at what was really going on in his head. Hadn’t he told her that she was his wisdom? Perhaps it was time she tried it. She sat up straighter, talking out loud as she thought through what was going on.
“So the bear side is the simple one. Eats, sleeps, has sex.”
“Yes.” The word was half growl.
“And the human is the violent one. Analyzes, strategizes, implements.”
“Yes.” This time the word was snapped out, almost like a response to a military officer.
“So who feels pain? Guilt? Fear?”
“What?”
She straightened up off the couch, her entire body aching with the movement, but still needing to be close to him as she spoke. “It’s what you said. Smoky the Bear lives a life of woodsy contentment. Mr. Human is more like Mr. Robot with the thinking and planning. Where do the difficult emotions go? Who has empathy, who feels remorse?”
He stared at her the same way he’d been looking at the microwave a moment ago: as if trying to decipher a secret code. But she was speaking plain English.
