Page 101 of Bearly Out Loud

She came through the private elevator—biometric access Reo had added the week after the claiming—wearing a dress that was somewhere between date night and meeting-the-extended-family, her hair up, earrings catching the pendant light, and in her arms: a three-layer honey cake she’d picked up fromthe Japanese bakery in the East Village that Akemi had recommended, because Nari Wixx did not walk into a den of shifters empty-handed.

Dozens of bears turned to look at her.

Not threatening. Not hostile. Curious. The gathering floor was warm wood, warm light, and a population of people who ranged from five-eight to six-seven and shared a collective mass roughly equivalent to a mid-size apartment building. They filled couches, leaned against counters, occupied chairs that creaked under them. They were teachers, accountants, security operatives, chefs, lawyers, artists, and engineers, and every single one of them had heard about the alpha’s human mate, and every single one of them was now watching her walk in carrying cake.

Nari surveyed the room. Took a breath. Set the cake on the nearest table.

“Hi. I’m Nari. I’m loud, I’m human, and I brought honey cake because apparently that’s the password.”

Silence. One second. Two.

Colette, from somewhere near the back, released a sound that was half gasp and half aria. She pressed both hands to her chest. Her eyes filled. She turned to Stellan.

“She brought CAKE.”

Stellan nodded. He was drinking coffee beside her, deliberately still, having been told to let his wife have this moment without interference.

“She broughtcake, Stellan.”

“I heard.”

“The human brought honey cake to a room full of bears. That’s not a dessert. That’s adeclaration.” Colette was weeping freely now, mascara holding through sheer force of French engineering. “I told you. Itoldyou she was the one. Didn’t I say? At the duck dinner? Didn’t Isay?”

Stellan sipped his coffee. “You said.”

The sleuth’s silence broke. Laughter first—scattered, then rolling, then filling the room the way warm air fills a space when you open the oven door. A bear named Erik, six-five with a red beard and forearms the size of Nari’s thighs, stepped forward and shook her hand with a gentleness that made her grin. “Welcome to the sleuth. Is that yuzu honey cake?”

“Yuzu and matcha.”

“Marry the alpha. Immediately. Before he does anything stupid and you leave.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.”

They swarmed her. Not all at once—bears didn’t swarm, they orbited, drifting closer in their own time, drawn by food and curiosity. But the orbit was unmistakable. Within fifteen minutes, Nari was in the center of the gathering floor surrounded by enormous, gentle people who wanted to know about The Forgotten Gate and her grandfather’s legacy and whether the cake had a recipe they could replicate, and she was holding court with a glass of wine in one hand and gesturing with the other, voice pitched to carry over forty bears, and Dojin stood at the kitchen counter watching his mate meet his sleuth and his bear had never been quieter.

Reo appeared beside him. Studied his face.

“You’re doing the thing.”

“What thing?”

“The watching thing. The one where you forget other people exist because she’s in the room. You’ve got a kitchen full of bears waiting for pie and you’re standing here looking at your mate like she invented language.”

Dojin picked up the pie. Did not deny the accusation.

Hana arrived late, headphones around her neck, and found Nari within thirty seconds. They stood hip to hip, Hana’s head tilted toward Nari’s shoulder, and Nari folded her in withoutbreaking her conversation—one arm around Hana’s waist, a sideways squeeze, a murmured “you okay?” that only the two of them heard. Hana nodded. Stayed close.

Two of them. My sister and my mate, standing in my kitchen, making it theirs.

Colette appeared at his side. Mascara restored. Wine in hand. Humming an aria that Dojin recognized as the one she deployed when she was unbearably pleased with herself.

“Maman.”

“I said nothing.”

“You’re humming the Tosca aria. That’s your victory hum.”

“It’s a beautiful piece of music and I’m enjoying the evening.” She sipped her wine. Watched Nari. “She brought honey cake.”