10. Mak

mak

. . .

It had been one wretched hell of a night.

I’d tried to leave. Put as much distance as I could between that sweet little Fresh Bite and me.

That distance turned out to be less than a few kilometers, though. Just far enough not to feel my maul—or the Fresh Bite who was refusing to take us on as mates—through Cody.

One moment, I was storming away, and the next, I was waking up.

Shivering and naked.

In a goddamned tree.

With perfect sights on the den I’d tried to leave behind.

I cursed when I saw the shredded clothes and work boots lying on the ground beneath the thick tree branch where I'd apparently spent the night.

Goddamn black bear. The Ayaska called it Two Spirit. It meant I could shift between the two kinds of bears I’d inherited from my parents. Or, in my case, it meant my polar always bullied its way to the surface—larger, meaner, too damn wild to let anything else through.

Until now.

I hadn’t seen my black bear in years. But it had decided to come out.

For her. The beautiful Fresh Bite who believed she was as broken as I felt. The one my bears couldn't help falling in love with from the moment they saw her—even though my human knew I wasn’t worthy of claiming her.

The memory of trying to tell my mother how unworthy I was floated back to me like smoke from an old fire—still lingering in the air long after the flames had died.

“I want you to take over as the heart of the tribe,” she’d said, her voice thin and fragile as I sat by her deathbed.

She’d been bitten by a rattlesnake, goddamn it. Poison was the only thing in nature that could kill us, even in bear form. Can’t heal what’s already in the blood.

Ash’s father, Tarak, conducted the Ayaska death rituals, filling the room with sage and sweetgrass smoke that swirled around us like spirits being summoned home. His low, rhythmic chant wove through the air as he placed painted stones in a circle around my mother’s bed, marking her transition to the Great Bear Forest.

“Not your brother. You ,” my mother had said, her hand gripping mine with the strength of her conviction.

“Ursa, no!” I tried to convince her to give the job to my brother instead. “He’s the sheriff. He can handle the town. And he’s not the spawn of some drunk polar bear bastard.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” she said firmly, her voice cutting through the smoke and chanting like a ritual blade.

She didn’t understand. She’d always been my fiercest defender, treating me no differently than my brother or sister, even though they’d been sired by decent males. But… “My father broke your maul. What do you think I’ll do to your tribe? My brother is more worthy. He’s been expecting this his whole life.”

“That’s why he’s not a good fit for Tuk’mara,” she answered, her voice as calm as a spring breeze despite her incoming death. “The heart of the village should be scared to death he’s going to fuck it up," she said with a wry smile.

She used her last bit of strength to cup my face, her eyes soft and steady. "You’re not like him. Form a maul. Find a mate you can love like your father couldn’t love us. Show them all what I see.”

Then she laid back and closed her eyes forever, leaving me with that last wish.

I’d had no choice but to try to fulfill it.

But look at me now. Cowering and naked in a tree while my second and third maul had been attending to the only female whose scent we all agreed on from dawn to dawn.

I gritted my teeth against the bitter cold and debated bringing out my polar bear to get me down. Maybe that miserable white beast would?—

I froze when I saw her.

Noelle.

She appeared at the mouth of the totem den, her form dark against the snowy trail. My heart lurched, and my bears stirred inside me. Then I narrowed my eyes as she started toward the road, bundled in the moon boots her bear had spared and the old Army parka I hadn’t bothered to grab before I stormed out.

Ursa’s Claw, she was cute. Too cute. Both my bears snuffled with excitement, responding to the sight of the female we all knew was perfect for us.

But what the hell was she doing?

Leaving, just like you said she would , my polar growled, simmering with anger.

Follow he r, my black bear urged, quieter but insistent, every muscle in its sleek body coiled to chase.

I gritted my jaw, torn between instinct and reason. I’d tried to run away. Tried to do the right thing—for Cody, who’d have his heart ripped apart if she didn’t stay, and for the tribe, who needed a leader with a stable maul.

But now, this pretty little Fresh Bite had made doing the right thing impossible.

I shifted slightly in the tree, every nerve in my body screaming for action.

Did I let her go, telling myself I’d done everything I could to protect her—and my maul—from myself?

Or did I follow in my father’s path, refusing to let go of the female I knew on sight was fated for me.