“Honey,” he said—gently, but with utter certainty. “YouareBuck’s mate.”
CHAPTER36
Buck watched the color drain from Honey’s face, and knew that it was all over.
“Buck?” She turned her eyes to him—those damn beautiful eyes, that had always been able to see straight through him, except for this one thing. “Is that true?”
There was no point trying to deny it. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
It broke her. He saw her start to fall apart; the moment she stopped herself, holding on to her shattered pieces through sheer force of will.
“I see,” she said quietly. She turned back to the others. “Excuse me.”
She swept out of the office without waiting for a response. With much less dignity, Buck scrambled after her.
“Honey,” he called. “Honey, wait.”
She didn’t.
Even though she had barely two seconds head start on him, he still had to stretch his legs to catch up. All his usual unnatural speed seemed to have deserted him, right when he needed it most.
“Honey.” He started to reach for her, then thought better of it. In her current mood, she’d probably deck him if he tried to touch her, and rightly so. “Please. Talk to me.”
Her jaw stayed clenched, lips barely moving. “Not. Here.”
At this time of day, there were plenty of kids and counselors hanging round the central square, killing time between the end of lunch and the start of the afternoon activities. Buck belatedly realized more than a few heads were turning in their direction. Motherloving shifters never could resist drama.
“My cabin, then,” he said, terrified that she was going to simply stride straight out of camp, and out of his life. “Give me a chance to explain.”
“Oh, I don’t need you to explain.” Her voice was low and savage, totally at odds with the small, fixed smile on her face. She’d always been far too good at concealing her emotions. “I understand perfectly.”
“Give me a chance to apologize, then.” He managed to get ahead of her at last, blocking her way. “Damnit, Honey. You can’t just run away.”
Her jaw tightened, but she let him divert her in the direction of the staff cabins. He hurried to get the door, holding it open for her. He had the obscure, irrational feeling that if he could just get her inside, everything would be all right.
It was not all right. In fact, everything immediately became ten times worse. Because there was the bed, sheets still rumpled and smelling of her scent. There was the window that she’d climbed through, stark naked. Even the damn walls reminded him of her, since he’d taking her up against every single one, muffling her cries with his mouth as she came.
And there Honey stood, in the middle of all those memories, all traces of her smile gone.
When she spoke, her voice was quite calm. “Were you ever going to tell me?”
He’d never lied to her. Not directly. Just by omission.
He gave her the truth now, plain and simple. “No.”
She nodded slowly, as though she’d expected that answer. She didn’t say anything.
He groped desperately for words that would make her understand. “I didn’t want you to think that this wasn’t real. Yes, the beast yanked me toward you at the start, but I fought it. You have no idea how hard I fought.”
Something cracked in her expression, just a little. “I think I can guess.”
“You know how stubborn I am.” He wanted to cup her face in his hands like an ember, breathing that tiny spark of warmth into the brightness of her true smile. “I pushed you away as hard as I could, and I thought I’d succeeded. Damn it, Ididsucceed. I crammed the beast back in its cage and refused to listen to its howls. And it didn’t make a blind bit of difference.”
She was listening to him now; really listening, rather than just standing there while he talked. Encouraged, he stepped closer.
“Even repressing the animal as hard as I could, you were still there.” He dared to drift even closer, to the point where he feel the slightest hint of warmth from her body. She didn’t pull away. “Challenging me at every turn. Driving me mad. Filling my dreams. I could ignore the damn monster. I couldn’t ignoreyou.”
“You told me that you’d never been pretending,” she whispered. “That it had always been real.”
