“That sounds perfect for you,” Christopher managed, the words like ash in his mouth. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “It’s what I’ve worked toward my entire career.”
The finality in her voice told him everything he needed to know. She’d already decided to take it. Whatever had been building between them—whatever connection they’d both felt—it wasn’t enough to outweigh fifteen years of ambition and dreams.
His bear howled in anguish, the sound echoing through his mind with such force that Christopher had to close his eyes briefly to maintain control.
“I’m happy for you,” he lied, forcing a smile. “You deserve it.”
“Do I?” Sorcha asked, her voice unexpectedly sharp. “That’s what I keep telling myself. That I’ve earned this, that it’s everything I’ve ever wanted.” She stood suddenly, moving to the window, her back to him. “So why does it suddenly feel hollow?”
Christopher’s heart stuttered in his chest. Hope, that dangerous emotion he’d been trying to suppress, flared to life again.
“What do you mean?” he asked carefully.
Sorcha turned to face him, the candlelight catching the unshed tears in her eyes. “I mean that for the first time in my life, I’m not sure if moving on is what I want anymore.” She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly looking small and vulnerable. “And that terrifies me.”
Christopher stood slowly, afraid that any sudden movement might break this fragile moment. “Sorcha,” he murmured. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered, a single tear spilling down her cheek. “That’s the problem. I don’t know what I want anymore.”
Every instinct screamed at Christopher to go to her, to take her in his arms, to tell her everything—about mates, about the bond they shared, about how he’d known from the moment they met she was meant to be his. But he held back, sensing that she needed to reach her own conclusions without his influence.
“It’s okay not to know,” he said instead, keeping his distance even as his bear raged against the restraint. “Some decisions can’t be rushed.”
Sorcha wiped away the tear with the back of her hand. “I’ve never been indecisive before. I’ve always known exactly what I wanted and gone after it full-throttle.”
“Maybe that’s because you’ve never had a real choice before,” Christopher suggested gently. “It was always about gettingaway, about moving forward. Now you’re considering somethingdifferent.”
“Staying,” she said simply.
“Or not,” Christopher added, though it cost him everything to say it. “The point is, you have options. Real ones. And that’s a good thing.”
“Is it?” Sorcha looked at him then, really looked at him, her eyes searching his face as if seeking answers to questions she couldn’t articulate. “Why are you being so understanding about this? Most men would push for whattheywant.”
Because you’re my mate, and your happiness matters more than my own, Christopher thought but didn’t say. Instead, he said, “I want you to be happy,” he said simply, the truth of it resonating through his entire being.
She stared at him, something flickering in her expression that made his bear stand at attention. “How are you even real?” she whispered.
Christopher swallowed hard. This was the moment. If he was going to tell her the truth—about what he was, about what she meant to him—it had to be now.
“Sorcha, there’s something I need to tell you,” he began, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure she could hear it.
But before he could continue, she got up from her chair and came to him. “Whatever it is, it can wait,” she said. “Because right now I know everything I need.”
With that, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him.
Chapter Sixteen – Sorcha
Her lips met his with a hunger that startled them both. Sorcha felt Christopher freeze for a heartbeat, then respond with a passion that stole her breath away. His hands found her waist, pulling her against him as the kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against hers in a way that made her knees go weak.
This was nothing like any first kiss she’d known before. It was fierce, hungry, and all-consuming. Her fingers threaded through his hair, holding him close as if he might disappear if she let go.
When they finally broke apart, both gasping for air, Sorcha saw the wonder in Christopher’s eyes that surely mirrored her own. His pupils were dilated, turning his eyes nearly black in the candlelight.
“I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I saw you,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire.
“Me too,” she admitted. This was no time to be coy. No time for games. This was too important. She could feel it with every breath she took.
