Page 57 of Gunnar

The word sits between us like a stone.

“And if you can’t respect that,” I add, “you don’t belong in this clan.”

The color drains from his face.

For a second I think he might argue.

Instead, he looks down at the deer.

“Yeah,” he mutters.

“Thought so,” I say. “Now get this shit off the table.”

I stomp out the back door, forcing myself to keep control.

My beast is pacing under my skin, teeth bared, hackles up. It’s furious at what Orson just did. Doesn’t tolerate anyone testing the mate bond.

I drag a hand down my face and force myself to breathe. The anger drains slowly, like water out of a cracked bucket.

She handled that well.

Better than well.

I thought she’d lose it.

Instead, she looked at a half-butchered deer like she was mentally filing it under “Bear House Problems” and moved on with her day.

A grin pulls at my mouth.

Tough girl.

I head back to the utility room to check the lights.

I flip the switch.

Nothing.

“Of course,” I mutter.

I unscrew the bulb and give it a shake.

The filament rattles loose inside.

I dig through the boxes stacked against the wall. Most of them haven’t been touched in years.

After a minute I find a dusty pack of bulbs.

That’ll do.

I screw one in. It flickers, then glows steadily in my hand.

Relief.

I need to go to town and buy more. But for now, this will have to do.

I’ll be able to put a bulb in the bathroom, Alexandria’s room, and the kitchen. That should make her a little more comfortable.

I step outside again⁠—