"Then take more," I challenge. "I can handle it."
His eyes darken with hunger. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"You're going to regret saying that."
"Promises, promises."
He grins, and starts moving again. And I realize that this is just the beginning. That fated mates means forever, means being bound to this incredible, damaged, beautiful man and his bear for the rest of my life.
I should be terrified of that kind of commitment.
Instead, I've never felt freer.
"I've got you," he murmurs as he fucks me slow and deep. "Always got you. Mine."
"Yours," I agree, wrapping my legs around his waist. "Always yours."
And I mean it with every fiber of my being.
This man, this bear, this bond, this is what I've been waiting for my whole life without knowing it.
And now that I have it, I'm never letting go.
One Month Later
I'm sitting on Rhett's porch, our porch, I'm trying to get used to thinking, editing footage on my laptop when I hear the familiar sound of his axe splitting wood.
Thunk. Pause. Thunk.
The rhythm is meditative, steady. I could set a clock by it. I save my work and close the laptop, stretching my arms overhead. My body aches in the best way, a combination of yesterday's hike to the waterfall and last night's activities that had me screaming Rhett's name until my voice went hoarse.
A month. It's been a month since the storm, since I nearly died, since everything changed.
And somehow, I haven't left.
Well, that's not entirely true. I've gone back to town several times, to reassure my mom I'm alive, to pick up supplies, to maintain some connection to my old life. But I always come back here. To him. To this cabin that's starting to feel more like home than the apartment I'm still technically renting.
My channel hasn't suffered. If anything, my content has gotten better. More authentic. I'm filming different things now: the reality of mountain living, foraging for food, learning traditionalskills. My followers love it. Comments pour in about how grounded I seem, how happy I am.
They have no idea how literal that grounding is. How I'm literally bound to a man who can turn into a bear. How I've discovered a whole hidden world of shifters that exists right alongside humanity.
Rhett emerges from around the side of the cabin, shirtless and gleaming with sweat despite the cooling autumn air. He's carrying another load of split wood, muscles flexing with the weight.
I will never get tired of looking at him.
"You're staring," he says without looking at me, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Can you blame me? You're basically a walking advertisement for lumberjack porn."
He snorts, stacking the wood. "Lumberjack porn?"
"It's a thing. A very popular thing. You'd make a fortune if you let me film you chopping wood shirtless."
"Absolutely not."
"I wasn't serious. Mostly." I stand and stretch, wincing slightly. "Though my subscribers do keep asking about the 'mysterious mountain man' I keep mentioning."
