Page 20 of Saving Meri

Bear stepped forward, closing the space between them in steady, measured strides. Meri straightened, but didn’t back away.

Good girl.

He let his gaze drift, taking her in—the way his shirt hung off her frame, the way her bare legs peeked out beneath the hem, the way she was watching him like she was waiting for something.

"That mine?" he asked, voice quiet.

She swallowed, her pulse fluttering at her throat. "It was on the chair… you weren’t using it."

He lifted an eyebrow, keeping his voice even. "And so you thought you’d use it?"

She shifted slightly, her jaw tightening, but she didn’t answer.

Bear stepped closer, letting the heat of his body press into her space. "I don’t mind," he said, his voice low. "Just means you’re mine now, too."

Her breath hitched. "That’s not…"

"Isn’t it?" He reached out, his fingers brushing against the edge of the fabric at her hip. "You didn’t pick this shirt by accident, Meri. There were clothes in your room."

She sucked in a slow, uneven breath, her body going still under his touch. Bear let his fingers skim lower, just a whisper of contact, just enough to let her feel the difference between control and coercion.

"You can take it off," he murmured, "if you don’t want to wear something that belongs to me."

She froze, her lips parting slightly, her eyes searching his. And then—deliberately, slowly—her fingers relaxed. She wasn’t giving up. She wasn’t breaking. She was choosing.

Bear’s chest tightened, something sharp and satisfied settling deep inside him.

"Good girl," he murmured.

Meri’s breath stuttered. She turned, breaking eye contact, but she didn’t take the shirt off.

Bear let her go, his gaze following her as she retreated to the couch. She curled up, tucking her legs beneath her, still wrapped in his clothes. He watched her for another moment, his mind turning over what Foster had said, what DeLuca’s involvement meant.

Meri was still in danger, but DeLuca couldn’t have her—not while there was a breath left in Bear’s body.

Bear had been patient. Meri was testing him—pushing him, challenging him—and he had let her, to a point. But every warrior knew the limits of control, and Bear had reached his.

She sat curled on the couch, still wrapped in his shirt, her bare legs tucked beneath her, watching him with defiance, simmering beneath exhaustion. She’d gone quiet after their last exchange, her body language carefully neutral, but Bear had been watching her long enough to know she was building up to something.

A fight. A push. A challenge.

In that hellhole, they may have trained Meri to obey, but she remained unbroken. And this wasn’t about control. Not the way those men had twisted it. This was about boundaries. She was testing whether or not he meant what he said.

"You’re staring," she muttered.

Bear didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he pulled out the chair across from her, lowering himself into it with slow, deliberate movements. His body was loose, relaxed—but his attention was entirely on her.

"You’re thinking about running," he said.

Meri’s fingers tightened on the hem of his shirt. "Maybe."

Bear exhaled through his nose, slow and measured. "I told you before, little one. You don’t run from me."

Her eyes snapped to his, anger sparking. "I’m not yours."

Bear didn’t blink. "Then why are you wearing my clothes?"

Meri’s lips parted, but no words came out. Got her.

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