Read Online Sawman Werebear (Saw Bears #4) by T. S. Joyce - Free Book Online Page B

the tools to reach the animal in her. Or if she had the tools at one point, Connor had snapped them all in half.
    She sat up in Brighton’s bed and rubbed her eyes. At least she didn’t feel awful at the moment. In fact, she felt better than she had in days. The long sleep must’ve been good for her. When she twisted her neck, pain shot up the back of her spine, and she touched a sore spot on the back of her scalp gingerly. She didn’t remember hitting her head when she’d seized last night, but she must’ve.
    The door creaked open, and Brighton stuck his head inside. His eyes were pure silver, but relief pooled in them, making him look more human. His beard was gone, and in its place was short facial scruff that looked like it belonged on some model in a big city. Her heart thudded against her breastbone as she studied his chiseled jaws and sensual lips.
    “You shaved.”
    Opening the door wider, he ducked under the frame and stood to his full height. He looked especially tall from her lower position on the bed, and his muscular chest pressed against the soft-looking fabric of his black T-shirt. Dark, fitted denim clung to his powerful legs, and his work boots thudded against the wood floor as he approached.
    Brighton smelled of animal, too, just like her. She huffed a soft laugh and fiddled with a loose thread on the comforter before she lifted her gaze back to his. “What a pair we make,” she murmured.
    The mattress sank as he sat beside her. As he rested a hand on her leg, his lips curled up in a devastating smile. It was one of relief and melted her heart in an instant. She hadn’t died alone after all. Brighton had found her and taken care of her. Again. Just like she knew he always would until her last breath.
    His eyes didn’t darken, and he clenched his jaw against some internal struggle.
    “You have to Change again, don’t you?”
    He nodded.
    “Will I have to Turn as much as you do if I get better?”
    “No,” he rasped out. “I’m broken. You will be perfect.”
    “How often for me?”
    “Once every week or so, and you’ll get to choose when you do it. It won’t be forced.”
    “What’s happened to make you like this?”
    His eyes looked sad as he shook his head.
    Hurt slashed through her at his denial. It hadn’t mattered that she’d opened up to him completely last night. It hadn’t mattered that she’d shared her darkest secret. He still wouldn’t, or couldn’t, let her in.
    Stung and frustrated, she said, “I should take a shower.” She stood and gathered her clothes and a bag of toiletries from her duffle bag. Without another word, she slipped into the bathroom and locked the door behind her, then hit the hot tap. When steam filled the bathroom, she stepped under the hot streams of water and scrubbed herself clean until her skin shone like an eggshell. And when the water finally ran cold, she wrapped a towel around herself, brushed her teeth, and scrubbed her face with a washrag she found in the cabinet above the toilet. Her time was limited before the next seizure would hit, and she wanted to feel clean before the next round of agony. She’d already spent way too much time rigid, on the ground, in the dirt for one day.
    When she came back into the room, she assumed Brighton would be long gone, off doing bear shit. Instead, he watched her from his position on the bed, leaning back on locked elbows.
    “I messed up last night. I messed everything up,” he whispered.
    She couldn’t look at him or she’d fold and allow the water building in her eyes to fall. “It’s fine. You knew Connor, so my confession must’ve been a blow.”
    “I shouldn’t have left you like that.”
    She turned as frustration seared through her. “What could you have done? This is my life, Brighton. What Connor did cost me everything. My job. I’m about to be evicted from my apartment because I’m two months late on rent and up to my eyeballs in medical bills for something the doctors never