Page 10 of Titan’s Mate

“No.”

“Huh.” Brock frowned. “Is she old?”

“No. She’s pretty.” He added glumly, “She’s very pretty.”

“Oh, shit.”

Titan nodded.

Brock ventured, “Are you sure you heard her right? Because there’s more than one way of sending a woman to heaven.”

Titan growled. “This is not funny.”

Brock sighed. “I guess it’s not, if she’s really dying.” He went quiet for a long moment, then asked softly, “Are you going to help her?”

Titan thought of the ghosts of his people, screaming in the flames. He shook his head. “I can’t. I can’t do what she wants me to do. Not anymore.”

Brock said, “Do you want me to come with you and talk to her? I could at least tell you if she’s actually dying. Although honestly, it’s not very likely. Shifters don’t get terminal diseases.”

Titan felt a spark of hope inside him. A tiny one, like a faraway star.

He wanted to keep it. He wanted to stay right here, where the possibility existed that she wouldn’t die, that he wouldn’t have to fail her. “I think I’d rather stay here.”

“Don’t be a freakin’ wussy.”

“I am. I’m a wussy bear.”

Brock got up, reached down, and hauled Titan to his feet.

“Should I bring the whiskey, do you think?” Titan asked.

“Definitely.”

Chapter 5

Mari stood looking out the window long after the half-bear, half-man had disappeared into the trees.

She exhaled on the cold glass in front of her, drawing a ragged flame in the mist her breath left.

Then she wiped it out and drew a flower.

Because she wasn’t giving in to the demons. Not up until her last breath—not even after. She just hadn’t realized that Titan had his own demons.

She hadn’t realized how scared he was. He fought it all the time—she could see it in his eyes. It took all his courage just to keep on going.

All those deaths had broken him. That, and something more. Something deeper.

Something to do with crossing people over.

A cold shiver went down the back of her spine, like a demon’s whisper. All those people in the graveyard in the woods, all dead on the same day.

Somehow, he blamed himself for their deaths.

She left the window and threw another log on the fire. She felt hollow inside, so she instinctively headed for the kitchen.

Her inner bear hadn’t lied to her. There were fresh cinnamon buns in a pan on the top of the stove. How had he known they were her favorite?

She tested the pan with a quick fingertip. Not hot enough to burn anymore. She turned on the burner for the cocoa to reheat, and pulled a sticky bun out of the pan with her fingers.