Sawman Werebear (Saw Bears #4) by T. S. Joyce Page A

your bear afraid to come out. All of her ideal conditions had to be met, and she had to feel safe before she revealed herself.
    “Submissive?” That didn’t sound good. She wanted to be strong—a strong partner for Brighton, who deserved nothing less.
    His smile deepened, and he brushed a strand of her hair from her face. He swallowed hard, then forced a whisper. “Submissive isn’t a bad thing. You’ll be the only one in the Ashe Crew. Tagan will shit himself, he’ll be so happy. He’s got his hands full of a crew full of dominant bears. You’ll bring balance to us.”
    “What does submissive mean? Weak?”
    “Never weak.” He shook his head and leveled her a serious look. “Never. You just won’t want to fight like the rest of us do. You’ll keep your head during skirmishes. Your bear is a peacemaker.” His voice lowered to nothing. I knew the first time I smelled you that you would be a balm. My bear settles around you, and he’s a monster.
    “Not a monster,” she murmured, brushing her thumb down the short, dark stubble on his face and along the scar on his throat. “He’s perfect for me.”
    Brighton dropped his gaze, but not before she saw the shame in his eyes. Carefully, he pulled the palm of her hand to his lips and kissed it for a long time. When he looked up again, his eyes roiled with liquid silver, and she knew she was losing him to the woods again.
    Pursing her lips, she hugged him tight, resting her chin against his shoulder and wishing for a few more minutes. “You hold too much inside, and for what? Whatever you’re going through will only make me respect you more. You are full of poison because you don’t talk about what makes your bear like this. I can see you getting worse. I can see your pain, but you refuse to share it with me.” Her eyes rimmed with tears as she eased back and cupped her hands around his neck.
    Brighton wouldn’t look at her anymore, and his mouth had settled into the same grim line he’d worn the first day she’d talked to him at that diner.
    Her heart was breaking into pieces, just like it did every time he was forced to Change because of the ghosts he was fighting.
    “I’m here, Brighton. I love you, and I’ll always be here.”
    He shook his head slowly back and forth, in denial of the relief she offered. If he’d only tell her what was wrong, and how she could help him, she’d gladly take on any burden he would allow her to. He gripped her wrists and pulled her grasp from his neck, then stood and left the kitchen. The front door slammed closed a moment later, and she strode for the window to watch him leave like she always did. Pushing back the curtains with her fingertips, she followed his escape with her eyes as tears spilled from them and streaked down her cheeks. He removed his shirt, putting his scars on display. His muscles worked and flexed under his skin as he moved, too graceful to be human. At the edge of the tree line, he paused and turned back. His chin was lowered and his gaze steady, as if he could see her through the kitchen window, all the way from across the clearing. Heartbreak swam in his eyes, and he gritted his teeth. In the final moment before he turned back for the woods, he looked sick about leaving her like this.
    She couldn’t force him to open up, though.
    All Everly could do was hope that someday he would trust her enough to share his burdens.
    ****
    It slayed her that Brighton had to spend so much time alone in the woods just for a few hours in his human skin. She’d begun to form an idea over the time she’d been here, and this morning, she’d had enough. Everly followed the scent trail Brighton had left. She couldn’t just sit in the cabin waiting for him when she knew he was hurting. Not anymore. She was in this too deep, cared about him too much not to take desperate measures.
    This was the second attempt of the day to Change. This morning, she’d been terrified and stank of fear as she’d followed him into