"I was protecting her."
"Bullshit." Mac's sapphire eyes flashed. "I've known you for fifteen years, and this is the exact same crap you pulled after the Hollow Creek incident. Stop pushing away people who care about you before you have no one left."
Sam looked away. "It's different this time."
"How? Because she's not a shifter? Because she can see the future instead of your past?" Mac shook his head. "Or is it because you actually care about her, and that terrifies you more than any silver-haired witch?"
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft bubbling of healing potions.
"She deserves better," Sam finally muttered.
"Probably," Mac agreed, wrapping a fresh bandage around Sam's torso. "But for some reason, she chose you. At least until you called her a liability."
Sam flinched. "I didn't mean?—"
"Yes, you did. You meant to hurt her so she'd leave." Mac secured the bandage with a sharp tug. "Classic Wolfe defense mechanism. Push them away before they can leave you."
"What do you want me to say?" Sam snapped. "That I'm scared? Fine. I'm terrified. Not just of her getting hurt, but of..." He trailed off.
"Of caring about her," Mac finished. "Of letting someone matter again."
Sam's shoulders sagged. "What if I can't protect her?"
"What if you don't have to do it alone?" Mac handed him the thermos. "Drink this. Zelda said it tastes like swamp piss but it'll help."
Sam took a reluctant sip. It was worse than swamp Piss "You sound like a self-help book."
"I'm the King of Shifters. Relationship advice comes with the crown." Mac's expression turned serious. "There's something else you should know. Three other shifter-psychic pairs have formed in neighboring towns recently. All investigating similar thefts."
Sam lowered the thermos. "That can't be coincidence."
"No," Mac agreed. "And every pair reported the same thing—unexpected magical resonance when working together. Just like you and Delilah."
"Someone's orchestrating this," Sam murmured. "The Collector."
"Exactly. So maybe pushing away your magical other half isn't the smartest move right now."
Sam stared into the murky depths of the thermos. "I wouldn't even know where to start fixing this."
"An apology usually works." Mac stood. "Though in your case, it might take groveling. Possibly in wolf form. With flowers."
Delilah paced the length of Zelda's garden, each footstep causing ripples of reaction through the foliage. Lavender stems bent away from her path as if sensing her anger, while thorny roses seemed to reach toward her, responding to the hurt pulsing beneath her skin.
"He's impossible," she muttered, kicking at a pebble. "Completely, utterly impossible."
Zelda knelt among her herbs, seemingly focused on harvesting mint leaves while actually monitoring Delilah's emotional state through the plants' reactions. "Men are generally impossible. Shifter men elevate it to an art form."
"I was just trying to help." Delilah stopped beside a cluster of drooping moonflowers. The moment she approached, they curled further into themselves. "See? Even your plants think I'm toxic."
"The plants don't lie," Zelda said, rising with her basket of herbs. "But they don't always tell the story you think they're telling."
Delilah crossed her arms. "What story are they telling, then? That I'm a disaster who gets people hurt?"
"They're telling me you care enough to be devastated." Zelda pointed to a patch of vibrant pink flowers that had suddenly unfurled, their petals opening wide despite the absence of direct sunlight. "Those only bloom around strong emotional connections. They're practically shouting right now. The same flowers bloomed when Ivy and Rafe were here together."
"That's ridiculous." Delilah stepped away from the flowers, but they stretched toward her, following her movement. "I barely know him."
"Sometimes time isn't the measuring stick." Zelda's eyes glinted with knowing amusement. "Those flowers responded the moment you mentioned his name."
