"He won't talk to me about it." Cal's jaw tightened. I watched the muscle flex beneath his stubbled skin. "He thinks he has to protect me. Like I'm not strong enough to handle his pain on top of my own."
"Maybe he's protecting himself."
Cal looked up at me. His eyes were dark, intense. Still wolf-like, even in human form. The kind of eyes that tracked movement, that saw too much.
He reached up. Brushed a strand of hair from my face. His knuckles grazed my cheek, and I felt it everywhere.
"Go see him," he said, voice rough. "He needs you more than he'll admit."
Stone was standing by the window when I entered his room.
"You came back," he said without turning.
"I told you I would."
"I know." He was quiet for a moment. "I just wasn't sure."
He turned then, and his head came up. Nostrils flaring. Scenting the air.
"You were with Cal."
"I stopped by his room."
Something shifted in his expression. His shoulders dropped a fraction—the pack scent settling him, reminding the wolf that I was safe, cared for, surrounded by their own. But his eyes tracked me as I moved closer. Hungry. The wolf and the want tangled together.
"Good," he said roughly. "That's good."
His hands curled into fists at his sides.
He looked different than this morning. Smaller somehow. More fragile. The rigid control was still there, but underneath it, exhaustion had carved hollows beneath his cheekbones, darkened the skin under his eyes.
I crossed to stand beside him. Close enough that my arm brushed his.
He inhaled sharply. A shudder ran through him.
The window looked out over the back grounds—trees, paths, the distant shape of the mountains where everything had started. We stood there together, not quite touching, the bond humming between us.
"Stone."
"Don't." His voice was rough. "Don't ask if I'm okay. I can't answer that."
"I wasn't going to."
He met my eyes. The gold was brighter now. The wolf close to the surface. His gaze dropped to my throat, my collarbone, the places where Cal's touch still lingered on my skin. His jaw tightened. His throat worked as he swallowed.
"I can feel you," he said. "Through the bond. All the time. You smell like pack. Like Cal. Like safety." His voice dropped, roughened. Almost a growl. "And I want things I can't have. Not yet. Maybe not ever."
"Stone—"
"It helps. God, it helps more than you know." He shook his head. "But it also makes me afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"Of losing control." His hands clenched tighter, knuckles going white. "Of hurting you. Of being the thing I was on that mountain."
"You're not that thing."
"I could be." The words came out harsh. Broken. "I could be, Lumi. Every day, I feel it waiting."
