Page 17 of Shared By the Werebears
She placed the tiny tent in the center of the clearing and we all stepped back, giving it room to grow. Then Goldie looked at the piece of paper that had come with the tent, took a deep breath, and recited two soft, sing-song lines.
“Cozy dome and candlelight,
Keep us safe this forest night.”
With a ripple of soundless motion, the tent began to grow. We all stepped back again, instinctively as the spell took hold. In seconds, a low, rounded dome of canvas and gold-stitched velvet stood in its place, like a toadstool that had sprouted from nothing. The flap opened with a little sigh, revealing warm light spilling out from inside.
“Well, damn,” Ronan muttered. “I’ll give the old witch this—she knows her craft.”
Goldie turned to us, a little triumphant spark in her eyes, though her hands were still trembling.
“Told you Goody A’s magic is top notch. And don’t call her an ‘old witch.’ She’s a respected magic user.”
“Yeah, well…” Ronan looked like he wanted to argue.
“Let’s get inside,” I said, interrupting their argument. I put a hand to Goldie’s lower back to guide her forward. Her body was cold through the light jacket she was wearing. Too cold. It made something tight and urgent twist in my chest. Even though we barely knew her, I was worried—I wanted to keep her safe and warm.
Goldie resisted for a moment, her eyes clashing with Ronan’s. Then she let me guide her into the tent and Ronan followed us.
The inside of the tent was cozy and inviting. There were no visible heat sources, but the air was a bit warmer than outside—at least our breath didn’t come out in white puffs. A trio of flickering globe-lights hovered at the top of the dome, casting a soft, golden glow. In the center of the tent, thick blankets and cushioned bedrolls had already arranged themselves in a row, leaving space to one side for boots and gear.
Goldie slipped off her shoes and jacket and sank down onto the middle blanket, hugging her knees to her chest. Her cheeks were flushed now—maybe from the temperature shift or maybe because she was still irritated with Ronan—and a strand of blonde hair drifted across her eyes. She blew it out of the way with a soft puff of air.
I crouched beside her, wanting to be close in case she needed me. She still looked cold.
“You okay?” I murmured.
She nodded.
“Just… really glad we stopped. Thanks, Finn—this was a good call.”
Ronan remained standing just inside the tent’s entrance, his arms crossed tight over his chest. He hadn’t said a word since we stepped inside, but he was watching her. The way his eyes tracked her movements made me want to growl. Was I feeling jealous? Possessive? I had never felt that way before around Ronan—he was my Clan mate. But I could see the heat in his gaze when he looked at Goldie—a heat I was feeling too.
“Are you going to sit down or stand there and glare all night?” I asked, sharper than I meant to.
His jaw clenched.
“Just keeping an eye on things.”
Goldie glanced between us and gave a little half-smile.
“It’s all right, boys. I know I make you both…nervous.”
Right—if “nervous” was the word for it. Tell that to my cock, which was getting hard just from being near her and breathing in her sweet, feminine scent. God, why did she have to smell so good?
Also, now that her jacket was off, I could see the cleavage her fluffy black sweater showed off so perfectly. It made me remember how she looked topless and my cock surged again in my jeans.
“You don’t make me nervous,” I said, before Ronan could get a word in. “You just keep surprising me. That’s all.” I was thinking of the trapped deer—how she’d been so gentle with it.
Her smile grew.
“Is that a good thing, Finn?”
“Ask me again in the morning,” I said.
Her laughter was soft, but it wrapped around something deep in my chest and squeezed. I wanted her to stay warm. I wanted her to feel safe. But more than that, I wanted her to keep smiling like that. Like maybe Ronan and I weren’t just a couple of Weres under a curse. Like maybe she could really seeus.
Ronan finally sat on the blanket to Goldie’s other side, putting her in the middle of us. He had one knee bent, hands resting on his thighs.
