“Yeah,” she said softly. “Yeah. I am.”

Lock’s gaze moved around the group of bears that, Van abruptly noticed, had grown in number.

“Let’s get you both back home,” Lock said.

“Yes,” Ric agreed, his gaze still on Blayne while she continued to stare at the ground. “Let’s get you home, Blayne. Home and safe.”

And that’s when Miss Thorpe’s dark brown eyes fastened on Ric, her gaze ripping into him with a rage that nearly took Van’s breath away.

“Blayne?” Ric asked softly, taking a small step toward her.

Growling, Blayne stalked away from all of them. Ric began to go after her, but Grigori Novikov stepped in front of him, blocking him.

The Marauder followed after her instead, the pair stopping once they reached the corner.

Van didn’t know what the hell was going on, but he knew it wasn’t good. Not even close to good.

“I don’t want to go back,” she said simply.

Bo blinked, surprised. So this was what Blayne was like when she was really mad. Good to know. “Okay.” He wouldn’t force her to go back. “Where do you want to go? I have houses in Tahiti, Paris, London, Edinburgh—”

She looked around. “I want to stay here.”

“Here . . . where?”

“Here. In Ursus County.” She took another look around. “I like it here.”

“You can’t stay here, Blayne.”

“Why not?”

“You can’t stay here, Blayne,” Bo repeated. “Trust me on this.”

Grigori strode up to them, the wolves and MacRyrie waiting for them at the end of the block. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Bo told him.

“Can I stay here?” Blayne asked, and Grigori appeared as stunned as Bo felt when she’d first told him she wanted to stay. Never before, in the history of the town—and it had a very long history—had any non-bear or non-fox not mated to an Ursus County resident ever wanted to stay.

“Stay . . . here?” Grigori’s low voice even cracked a little on that question.

Blayne sniffed once, then again. “You . . . you don’t want me to stay?”

“Uh . . .”

“That’s all right. I understand.” A lone tear trailed down her cheek. “If I were you, I wouldn’t want me around, either.”

“No, no,” Grigori rushed to explain, panicking. “Don’t misunderstand. It’s just—”

“What is going on?” Dr. Luntz demanded as she stomped over. “Those wolves are getting snarly.”

Grigori turned to Dr. Luntz. “Blayne wants to stay.”

Dr. Luntz watched Grigori for amoment, focused on Bo, and finally focused on Blayne.

“You want to stay here?”

“Not forever. It’s just—”

“Of course you can stay, Blayne.”

“What?” Both Bo and Grigori said at the same time.

“We’re not turning this poor, sweet girl away. Besides, it’s not forever. Right, Blayne?”

Blayne nodded quickly, recognizing an ally when she found one. “No, ma’am. Not forever.”

“Just until these rude bastards learn a lesson about how to treat you. Right?”

Blayne threw her arms around Dr. Luntz’s shoulders, going up on her toes to reach them, and hugged her tight.

Dr. Luntz chuckled and hugged her back. “You can stay at Grigori’s house.” She winked at Grigori. “He won’t mind.”

Knowing his uncle, Bo was sure Grigori was about to argue that particular point, but Blayne released Dr. Luntz and looked up at Grigori with those wide, imploring eyes. Not wolf eyes. Dog eyes. And who, with a soul, could turn down dog eyes? Bo couldn’t, and he now realized, neither could a polar he would have thought was as hard-hearted as they came.

Grigori sighed, big and heavy, before saying, “Of course you can stay, Blayne Thorpe. Wouldn’t be right to turn you away, now would it?”

The smile she unleashed nearly knocked all three of them on their asses, it was so bright and wide, and her eyes filled with tears again. This time from gratitude. “I promise, Mr. Novikov, I won’t get in your way or bother you or anything.”

“Grigori’s the name, and I don’t think you’ll get in my way. Little thing like you.”

“You sure about this, Blayne?” Bo asked. “You sure you want to stay?”

“Just until I feel . . . better about going back.”

“What’s better for you? Groveling or crawling through glass?”

“Anyone can grovel,” she grumbled.

“Broken glass it is.” Bo shrugged at his uncle and said, “Guess you better get my old room and the guest room ready for us, and I’ll tell Van Holtz.”

“You can’t,” Blayne said.

“But I look forward to telling Van Holtz. I’m really hoping on sobbing so I can point at him and laugh.”

“I don’t mean you can’t tell him. Actually, you can tell him because I’m not talking to him ever again . . . or until I get over it, which may or may not be ever or even longer.”

Grigori and Dr. Luntz exchanged confused glances, but what really freaked Bo out was that he now understood exactly what Blayne meant.

“I mean,” she went on, “that you can’t stay.”