"That's not fair."
"Fair?" His voice cracked. "You want to talk about fair? I stood outside that door and listened to you almost get killed. I felt your fear through the bond—your actual terror—and I couldn't do anything. I couldn't help you. I couldn't protect you. I just had to stand there and hope."
"James—"
"Do you know what that's like?" He grabbed my shoulders. Not rough—desperate. "Do you have any idea what it's like tolove someone who keeps throwing herself into danger like her own life doesn't matter?"
"My life matters."
"Then act like it!"
The words echoed off the corridor walls. James's chest was heaving. His grip on my shoulders had tightened without him seeming to notice.
Through the bond, I felt what was underneath his anger. The fear. The helplessness. The love that had nowhere to go except into rage because everything else hurt too much.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly.
"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to be safe."
"I can't promise that. You know I can't promise that."
"I know." His voice broke. His head dropped forward until his forehead rested against mine. "I know. And I hate it. I hate that I fell in love with someone who's going to keep scaring the hell out of me for the rest of my life."
"Is that what's happening? The rest of our lives?"
James pulled back enough to look at me. His eyes were wet, but something in his expression had shifted. The anger giving way to something more tender. More terrified.
"Yeah," he said roughly. "That's what's happening. Whether you like it or not."
I wrapped my arms around him. Held on tight.
"I like it," I whispered.
He held me back. Didn't let go for a long time.
Cal was the hardest.
I found him in the east wing, in front of the observation window that looked into his packmates' rooms. He was in wolfform—he almost always was, these days—lying with his head on his paws, watching them through the glass.
He didn't look at me when I sat down beside him.
Through the bond, I felt his guilt. Heavy and constant, like a stone he'd been carrying for so long he'd forgotten what it felt like to put it down.
"It's not your fault," I said.
His ear twitched. Acknowledgment.
"Stone's situation—what happened to him—that's not on you. You didn't break him. You didn't make him feral."
Cal didn't respond. Just kept watching his packmates through the glass.
"Cal." I reached out, ran my fingers through his fur. "Talk to me. Please."
He shifted.
"You almost died," he said. His voice was hoarse. "Because of my packmate."
"Stone isn't just your packmate. He's my mate too."
