“Yeah.” His voice carried that careful note that meant he'd already figured out this wasn't a social visit. “Thanks.”
I pulled two bottles from the fridge, hands steady despite the way my wolf was pacing beneath my skin, agitated and protective and wanting to grab Nate and never let him go. The cold glass grounded me, gave me something to focus on besides the way he was watching me with those sharp photographer's eyes that missed nothing.
When I turned around, he was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, already braced for battle.
Smart man. Because I was about to start one.
“So,” he said when the silence stretched too long, when the air between us grew thick with the weight of things that needed saying. “You're going to try to talk me out of it, aren't you?”
The question hit exactly like I'd expected it to, but that didn't make it any easier to field. I set his beer on the counter with more care than necessary, buying myself another few seconds to find words that wouldn't sound like the cowardice they were.
“You volunteered for a war tonight,” I said finally, voice rough with everything I was trying not to feel. “Without asking. Without thinking about what you're actually signing up for.”
“I thought plenty.” He crossed his arms, already braced for the fight he knew was coming. “I thought about Calder's rogues tearing through everything I care about while I sit on the sidelines taking pictures.”
“This isn't about taking pictures, Nate. This is about keeping you alive.”
“Keeping me alive.” He repeated the words like they left a bitter taste, like they were condescension wrapped in concern. “Right. Because the fragile human needs the big strong werewolf to protect him from the scary monsters.”
The sarcasm in his voice made my wolf bristle, made something defensive and possessive rise in my chest like a tide I couldn't hold back. But underneath the irritation was raw terror—the kind that tasted like copper and felt like drowning.
“You are human,” I said, the words coming out harder than I'd intended. “You don't heal from claws like we do. You don't have enhanced senses or supernatural strength or any of the things that might keep you breathing when everything goes to hell.”
“And?”
The single word carried more weight than a full argument, challenge and hurt and something that might have been disappointment all rolled into two letters that made my chest ache.
“And I just got you back,” I said, the admission ripping itself free from the places I'd tried to keep it buried. “I just got you back, and I'm not losing you to a fight you have no business being part of.”
There. The truth, raw and selfish and absolutely non-negotiable. I'd lost him once to distance and time and my own inability to ask him to stay. I wouldn't lose him again to supernatural politics and the kind of violence that left bodies instead of memories.
Something dangerous flickered in Nate's eyes, and when he pushed off the counter, there was a predator's grace in the movement that reminded me he might be human but he wasn't prey.
“No business being part of?” His voice dropped to something low and dangerous, the kind of quiet that preceded storms. “This pack that's taken me in, this town that's become more home than anywhere I've ever lived, this—” He gestured between us, words catching on something too raw to name. “Whatever this is we're building—none of that gives me the right to stand and fight?”
“You don't understand,” I said, desperation making me cruel. “This isn't some adventure you can photograph and walk away from. People are going to die, Nate. Probably a lot of people. And I can't—” My voice cracked, betraying the careful control I'd been trying to maintain. “I can't be worrying about you when I need to be focused on keeping everyone else alive.”
“So your solution is to lock me away somewhere safe while you go off and play hero?”
“My solution is to keep you from getting torn apart by monsters that could snap his spine like kindling.”
“So that's it?” His voice was quiet now, but there was steel underneath the softness. “You get to decide what risks I'm allowed to take because you're afraid of losing me?”
The way he said it made something twist in my chest, sharp and uncomfortable because it was true. Because underneath all my careful reasoning about supernatural warfare and human limitations, I was just a man terrified of losing the best thing that had happened to him in years.
“I can't do this if I'm worried about you,” I said, the admission scraping raw from my throat. “I can't focus on keeping the pack alive if part of me is always watching for threats to you.”
“Then don't.” He stepped closer, close enough that I could see the determination blazing in his eyes. “Don't treat me like something fragile that needs protecting. Trust me to make my own choices about what I'm willing to risk.”
The simple logic of it should have been comforting. Instead, it made my wolf pace restlessly under my skin, every instinct screaming that humans were breakable, that Nate was mine to protect whether he wanted it or not.
“That's different,” I said, but the words sounded hollow even to me.
“How?” He was close enough now that I could smell determination and coffee on his skin, could see the flecks of gold in eyes that had never backed down from a fight. “How is your need to protect me any different from my need to stand beside you?”
“Because you're?—”
“Human.” The word came out flat, tired. “Yeah, you've mentioned that. What you haven't explained is why that means I don't get a choice.”
