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

the woods, then attempted to Change when he was in sight. Brighton as a bear had been worried, pacing frantically as she forced herself through the pain of an unnecessary transformation. It had taken a long time, and she was only able to remain a bear for half an hour at most, but she’d done it. And dammit, she was going to continue doing it so he wouldn’t be alone with whatever he was carrying anymore.
    Brighton stood beside a young spruce tree, shaking his head as if he’d just Turned and was trying to rid himself of the last tingles. Tugging at her shirt, she pulled it over her head and folded it neatly. Her jeans and panties followed, each folded into the pile that sat on a flat boulder. Hopefully, the bugs wouldn’t find them, but just in case, she’d try to remember to shake them out when she Turned back and redressed.
    Brighton’s eyes landed on her, still silver from Turning and not yet settled into the almond color he donned when in his furry form for a while. He approached slowly, shaking his head like one of those caged bears at a zoo.
    She wouldn’t be warned off, though. Closing her eyes, she imagined her bear, called to her, opened her mind and her middle to allow a metamorphosis she was only beginning to understand. Her bear, not yet ready after this morning, fought the transition, and the pain was excruciating. Sweat beaded her forehead, and she gritted her teeth and grunted at the invisible blows she received. Her insides were on fire, but she fell to her knees and arched her neck back, hands out and palms to the sky as her bones began to break.
    She lay crumpled on the forest floor, prickly pine needles poking her muzzle when it was done. She’d slept well last night, but now she felt as if she were exhausted. Weakly, she pushed herself up onto all fours and stumbled toward Brighton.
    He was frozen, and a look of utter confusion had morphed his features. He blasted steam from his mouth in the cool air. When at last she reached him, he bowed his head and rubbed his body down her ribs, and then around to the other side. A silent question that asked, why would she bother for me?
    Everly bumped his shoulder and tried to put on a brave face, but her body was revolting, and there was no masking the scent of her pain. Brighton circled her tightly, but there was no danger to protect her from. He scanned the woods around them, eyes intense as if he was preparing himself to defend her. And within moments, her Change began again. The birds in the canopy above flocked into the air at her roar of agony. And when the tingling in her nerve endings dulled, she redressed gingerly and followed Brighton numbly through the woods until he turned back into the man she loved and carried her back home.
    He didn’t say anything. Hadn’t all day, but when he settled her onto the porch, he whispered, “I’m no good for you, Ever. I never will be.”
    “That’s horseshit, Brighton. You’re mine, and I’m not giving up on you. You can’t live your life like this alone. So until your bear gives you relief, I’ll follow you, and I’ll Change with you until I can’t anymore.”
    His chest rose as he inhaled deeply and searched her face. “I need time alone.”
    His need to escape ripped hurt through her middle. Those were the worst words she’d ever heart-strung together. She knew what it meant. His first step in letting her go. Maybe she was pushing too hard, too fast. Or perhaps he didn’t feel the devotion that she did. He’d saved her, after all, and she owed him everything. She, on the other hand, hadn’t done anything for him.
    He squeezed her hand, then kissed her forehead and sauntered off toward the barn without looking back.
    She swallowed the urge to follow him—to hug him and tell him how much she’d fallen in love with him over the last week and beg him not to push her away. But if he didn’t care for her in that way, what was the point? She’d only be more hurt in the end.
    A sob clogged her