Betray the Bear (Bear Valley Shifters #4)(15)

Chase was braced against the sink, brushing his teeth, but stood ramrod straight when the light flickered on.

“What are you doing brushing your teeth in the dark?” she asked, trying to convince her heart not to actually leap out of her throat and onto the tile floor.

He shifted his weight and crossed his free arm over his chest, but not before she saw the marks. Long jagged chunks had been taken from the flesh under one of his arms. Even though the edges had healed and looked to be more than a month old, the middle had no skin to cover it.

Horrified, she yanked his hand away and studied the injury. “Who did this to you?” she breathed.

He shrugged away and scowled at his reflection in the mirror, then spat foamy toothpaste into the sink and rinsed his mouth. “None of your business.”

She ran a fingertip along the outer edge of the angry injury and he jerked away.

“Just let me see it,” she implored as he backed away from her. His shoulders hit the wall, and as she reached for him, he grabbed her wrists. His eyes burned and she struggled to escape his grasp.

“Don’t,” he said in a pleading voice as he released her. The vulnerability there drew her up short and she backed away, then sat heavily on the edge of the bathtub. “Why were you in here with the light off, Chase?” she asked again.

Ignoring her, he washed his face, allowing her the opportunity to see the wound better. In fact, she could admire all of him easier.

Nudity was part of life as a shifter, and she saw naked people every day, but Chase had the type of physique that made her inner bear draw up and purse her lips. Thick muscle flexed with his movements, and his stomach was flat and tight as he leaned forward. His skin was smooth, but webbed with small scars that had silvered with age. Even the new injury made him more alluring somehow. Shadows delved into the indentations between his taut muscles, and a pair of sweat pants hung deliciously low around his hips. Even the way water dripped through his oversized hands made her thirsty.

He turned his head and narrowed his eyes. His delicate nostrils flared slightly, and he reached for a towel. Shit, she was staring.

“I can make a balm for that,” she said, pointing to the wound he still hadn’t looked at in the mirror. “It’ll still scar, but I can make it look better than it will if you just leave it alone.”

“We have a healer. She’s done all she can do for it.”

“Okay,” she said, standing. “I was just trying to help.”

“Well, I don’t need your help, spy. I need you to prove your worth or f*ck up so you can get out of my house and go back to living in my own space without some stranger woman involving herself in business she has no right to.” He flung the towel at her and stormed out.

Oh, what a pushy bear he was. She wanted to follow him and dress him down for his ungratefulness in the face of her generous offer, but there was no use arguing with a dominant bull-headed shifter. Pushing a man like Chase would bring her nothing but pain.

And besides, what did she care if his wound healed marred. Scars like those were sexy and would probably have all the girls a-runnin’ to his bed. The thought made her brush her teeth a little harder, and when she spat, there was pink in the sink. His fault.

Why was he readying for bed with the lights off? Maybe it was because he thought she was already asleep and he didn’t want to bother her with the illumination from the bathroom. More likely, it was because he was avoiding looking at himself in the mirror, the vain man. Nathan pulled that shit, but Chase was better than that. At least he should be.

Before she could change her mind, she stomped down the hall and threw open the door to his room. He sat on the edge of his bed in the glow of a single bedside lamp with his elbows on his knees and his hands over his face.

He looked…broken.

“Go away.” His voice sounded raw and strained.

She should leave. When a Long Claw male sounded like this, a wise woman left the situation. But something in the way he sat there tugged at her, opening her and deflating the anger from inside her like a balloon. She walked closer and knelt in front of him, sitting back on her heels. Reaching out, she touched his knee. “I don’t know you, Chase, but from what I’ve seen, you’re a confident man.” And confidence is the sexiest trait in a man, her inner bear pointed out. “You shouldn’t be worrying about what the scar looks like.”

He snorted and lifted eyes the color of warm caramel to hers. “I don’t care what it looks like, Anya. It feels like shit and looking at it makes it hurt even worse.”

“Oh.” A little piece of her was relieved that it wasn’t vanity causing his angst, but she didn’t like that he was hurting. Not at all. “Has your healer given you anything for the pain?”

“All my bear will tolerate is an herbal tea. He’s…”

“Pushy?”

The ghost of a smile crooked one side of his mouth. “That’s one word for him.”

From the way her gaze kept drifting to the crotch of his pants right at eye level, she’d go out on a limb and say her inner bear was currently turned on, the little minx. She tried to remind herself about Nathan, but horny inner bear didn’t care and Anya’s eyes dipped to his pants again. She could just make out a giant bulge, and she licked her lips once to wet them.

Hormones were turning her brain to mush, and he was watching her watch…his pants. Abruptly, she stood and asked, “Where’s the tea?”