“I’m sorry. I had no idea. Oh…” Sudden clarity found her. “It’s happened before too, hasn’t it. The other night, Trevor said something about it. And that was when the wolves all responded to… You were keeping it leashed then too.”
“Yes.” Malachi leaned his head against the chair back and let his eyes close. This fight had drained the scant energy he had left.
“I’m really sorry.”
“You didn’t know.”
“Has it been like this since you were a pup?”
“No.” He opened his eyes and regarded her, and for a moment she thought their golden color flickered with light again. “I’ve never had to…well, hold the leash so hard, for lack of a better picture. Not until you came to the Lane.”
“What does that mean?” Had she done something to him without knowing it?
“I know what Arlo and Rebecca think it means. Trevor too, I guess. And Aaron.”
“Well, what?”
His mouth curved, though he was too tired for the smile to last long. “They say you’ve made me a stronger wolf. Given my DNA, it stands to reason both parts of me can access that strength, so our battle is heightened.”
Curiosity welled up, but she tried to use less provoking language this time. “I haven’t heard the others speak about…well, this battle. Theyarewolves, and—and you are too, I know, but—but sometimes you speak as though you botharea wolf, and youcontaina wolf.”
The rumble in his chest was faint. His expression was pulled with exhaustion. Yet his eyes lit with satisfaction at her description.
“Correct,” he rasped. “My extra wolf DNA lends extra power to its presence, in my body and in my mind. I don’t believe other wolves experience it the way I do. At times the dichotomy is intense. Difficult.”
“And now it’s more difficult…now that I’m here?”
Malachi nodded. “It’s never been such a conscious thing before. But you’re not at fault for this, April. It’s simply what I am. My genetics didn’t change when you came.”
“It has to mean something though.”
When he didn’t answer, she turned to meet his eyes. They were closed.
“Will you sleep now?” she said.
“On the couch,” he growled.
“Nope. Not negotiable.”
He fetched fresh sheets from a closet and took away the ones he’d slept on. He maintained absolute silence, even ignored her offer to help. But his silence wasn’t cold. This shutting her out—it didn’t come from anger or a desire to punish her. He seemed ready to speak to her half a dozen times in those few minutes but every time lost his words and turned away.
“Good night,” he said at last. “And I’m sorry for my harshness.”
As he limped away from her, April stood up from the couch. “Malachi.”
He turned back, and his eyes were shielded from her. Maybe not in the wolf-shield sense, but she couldn’t seehim, the depth of his thoughts that she loved so much, that lived behind his eyes. They were all but blank now.
“There’s something you should be telling me, as your mate.”
“Yes,” he said.
“But you won’t tell me?”
“No.”
He didn’t justify or explain. He didn’t move toward her when she took a step toward him. Instead he retreated into his ridiculous self-sufficiency and limped down the hall to the bedroom.
April pushed away her tears, flopped onto the couch, and wrapped up in the sheets. Despite their freshness, his gamey-musk-and-ginger scent enveloped her. She breathed it in. He smelled so good. And he was right. This was a great couch.
