Page 7 of Marked By the Possessive Polar Bear
Either way, I’ll do it for Magnus. He’s like a brother to me. I don’t have siblings like he does, so when my only brother asks for my help, you better believe I’m going to deliver.
I let my bear wander around for hours until the sky turns dark and those gorgeous glowing Northern lights start dancing in the sky.
“I hope you enjoyed it, buddy,” I say after I pull myself out, standing barefoot and naked in the snow. I stretch the stiffnessout of my limbs as I look up at the green and red lights, wondering if I’ll ever be back to this tiny little wooden cabin in the middle of nowhere again.
Hopefully, something better is on the horizon.
“What do you think?” I ask my bear.
Home, he says from inside.
He doesn’t use words, but I feel it in my bones. The sudden stillness. The pointed look toward the south. The silent, absolute certainty that it’s time.
To go home. To find her.
To be with my mate.
“Whoever she is…”
But the image that pops into my mind is a grown up Victoria looking more beautiful than I can bear.
It can’t be her. Can it?
I guess I’m about to find out.
I exhale slowly and my breath fogs in the freezing air.
“Okay,” I say with certainty in my voice. “I’m ready. Let’s go home.”
CHAPTER THREE
Victoria
It’s been over a week since we last heard from Magnus. I’ve been worried sick.
But along with the worry, I’ve been feeling all sorts of other emotions. Knowing that Adrian Cross may or may not be showing up in my shop at any moment tostayhereandworkhereonly a few feet from me is stirring up all kinds of anxious excitement in my belly.
For the first few days after talking to Magnus, I must have looked at the door every thirty seconds hoping to see Adrian’s tall broad frame walking through the door. But now, on the other side of a week and no Adrian, I’m beginning to think that the whole thing was a fever dream of Magnus’ unhinged bear.
I mean, why would he come back after all this time? Does he even still tattoo? It just doesn’t make sense.
He’s not coming, I tell myself as I finish up the sketch for my next appointment.It’s just not in the cards, girl. He was achildhood crush and that’s it. Get over it. It’s getting kind of pathetic.
“What do you think of this?” I ask as I hold the sketch up to the light. It’s one of those old-timey ship anchors.
Julian walks over to scrutinize it. His eyes narrow and his forehead furrows as he goes over every line with careful precision. “Need more shading here,” he says, pointing to the thick rope.
It always hurts to hear someone criticize your art, but we’re still brutally honest with one another anyway. I’ve trashed some of his best pieces to his face and he’s nit-picked and blasted some of mine. When you’re in the business of permanently etching your drawings onto people’s skin, you can’t let hurt feelings get in the way. We have to be ruthless. Our hurt feelings will heal, but fucked up tattoos stay on skinforever.
“This knot needs to be thicker,” he says, pointing to the rope swirling around the anchor.
Damn it. He’s right. I hate that.
I must be distracted.
He hands back the sketch and I start shading as he lingers around his station getting ready for when we open.
“Did Magnus say when Adrian is coming?” he asks as he takes the last sip of his coffee.
