Page 164 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

I shrugged, trying to compose myself and failing spectacularly. “What? I kinda like you this way.”

He let his head flop against my chest in clear exasperation, sending me stumbling backward in a pathetic attempt to stay upright.

“Bet you thought you didn’t have any lessons left to learn, didn’t you?”

His groan had me grinning as I buried my face against him, fingers winding into his fur. Then a low chittering sound rolled from his chest. His eyes flew wide before he dropped onto his ass, staring down at me with his head cocked in bewilderment. I dissolved into another fit of laughter.

“Did you just purr at me?” I wheezed. The bear narrowed his eyes again. “This was certainly not what I expected when I set out on this journey.”

With a groan, he toppled onto his back with all the finesse of a felled tree, sending sand flying while Rika and I cackled.

“Alright, big guy,” Jason muttered, still moving stiffly though gratefully clothed. “Let’s get you outta there, alright?”

Bear Aren released a mournful growl, rolling onto his belly. Pathetic, really. Adorably, hilariously pathetic in his blatant annoyance.

Jason’s knees hit the sand, his smile lopsided as he curled his fingers, summoning Aren forward. The bear slid tentatively toward him on his belly, and I lost it, earning a furry arm to the sternum that sent me toppling. I couldn’t stop laughing if I wanted to. It was absurd. Positively irreconcilable—the idea that the warrior feared in every realm, the man who’d led armies for centuries, had somehow turned into this cuddly overgrown fur ball.

“Up you go,” Jason coaxed, looping his hands under Aren’s front legs and standing, hauling him up—Aren sat back on his ass like a dog. I failed miserably to stifle the giggles sending tears welling in my eyes. “Okay, man, you’ve gotta’ reach deep here,” the shifter was saying, and through my tears, I saw him settle his palm over the bear’s chest. He huffed in response. “Nah, stop mouthin’ off and listen, for once in your life you overgrown dog.” A grumble rumbled through the ground beneath me, and I squeaked as I righted myself, wiping at my damp cheeks. “There’s a space, deep in your center—deeper still than the well—that will feel like a thread. Don’t look at me like that—yes, it’s precisely that kind of thread. No, I can’t pull it for you.” A beat of silence as they scowled at each other, the bear grumbling. “Well. Strictly speaking, I can, but that’s beyond the point.” Aren’s snort of distaste only fueled my hysterics. “Do you talk to your mate with that mouth? Christ, brother.”

“You actually know what he’s saying?” I wheezed.

“His mind-to-mind is mostly discernible,” Jason explained, lifting one dark brow before turning back to Aren. “This thread will feel like home, Ar. Like… settling into your favorite chair beside the fire. A book you’ve read one too many times—the kind where you anticipate the dialogue, but you still can’t wait to turn the page. It feels like the place you always want to go back to when the world grows heavy.”

Icy blue eyes slowly shifted to me.

“What about that monstrosity you call a house down in Naples? Or the cabin in the Rockies? Maybe it’s there. Find that place—wherever you feel at home—and pull it up.”

Even beneath all that fur, I saw his eyes soften, the words he couldn’t say written plainly across them.

“In any form,” I breathed, smiling softly, finally getting control of myself.

A flash of light burst from his chest, and then Aren was standing before us.

Naked.

Very, very naked.

And godsdamn, I’d forgotten how exquisite he was. No memory—no dream—could do the man justice.

“This damn desert is going to kill me,” he muttered, stalking toward the shredded remnants of his pack. “Crock of shit.”

“You’re welcome!” Jason called after him, then smirked down at me and finally extended a hand. “Jason Westerlund.”

“I deduced.”

He hauled me to my feet. “Nice to meet you, Miss Green.”

“Same. And thanks for bringing him back.”

“Bloody hell, thanks for risking your neck. Wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t.”

A bell-chime voice, dripping with authority, rang through my mind, and I smiled softly, fighting the sudden burn in my eyes. “I had a warning from a friend.”

His gaze softened, sadness replacing the grin. “She’s a good one, that one.”

“That she is.”

“Come on, little one.” He jerked his head toward the open oak doors. “Let’s hunker down.”