9. Cooper

9

COOPER

O ne week later.

Everything inside me rebels against what I have to do, but I have to do it. I understand her perspective. It's not her fault fate spun the wheel and picked her as my mate. My sadness is not her problem to solve, and I know how it will look to her. I don't want her afraid of me, but she's so closed off. She will never let me get close enough to her to prove myself. I see that now.

I followed her out to California as soon as my bear form melted away. I stayed near her sister's house, watching, waiting, making sure she was safe and formulating my approach. When they went out to the club, I thought I could charm her or seduce her. But despite her attraction and the power of the mating link, she is the ice queen. She's never letting me in.

And I can't let her go.

Something will happen to her, and I won't be able to stop it. Even if she dies of old age or some other natural cause like an illness—it won't matter. As soon as she leaves this life, I won't be far behind her.

Rowan was right… I do understand now. It's all well and good to say romance doesn't matter. Having a mate isn't that important. After all, haven't I been fine as a playboy up until now?

But time has now been split in two. Before Rosalie and After Rosalie. And even though I don't truly know her, my soul knows her in a way so final and absolute that only a fool would try to deny it. I could try to go on with my life and let her go live hers, but I won't be able to live if anything ever happens to her. I need her strong. I need her human frailties gone. I just… need her to give me a chance to prove to her that I'm not a mistake.

Her gallery opening was a huge success. I had to wait and let her have that. She'd never forgive me if I took this from her. She doesn't know I'm here. I've been very careful to keep to the shadows, to stay out of her line of sight.

She's sold every painting. I bought one of them, but even if I hadn't, I'm sure it would have sold. It's a painting of a woman and a bear in the forest. It's us. Though the woman in the painting isn't a self-portrait of Rosalie, it is us. The bear sits behind her on the ground in a cold winter forest, hugging her from behind. One of the woman's hands squeezes one of the bear's paws in silent communication. He's her friend, her protector. Why would she paint this if she didn't want me? It seems like a clear signal.

Though I'm sure the signal isn't… kidnap me and lock me up in your penthouse , but still.

Rosalie is one of the last people out of the building, and she's parked at the far end of the parking lot. I don't let her see me. She's surprised, and I smell her fear when she breathes in the drugs on the cloth. I lay her carefully across the backseat of her car, and get behind the wheel.