Shit… Does he know? No. If he knew it was Soren I was meeting with, we wouldn’t be talking. Gunnar would lose himself in his fury and hunt Soren down. He still mistakenly believes that Soren betrayed our pack and caused the deaths of his chosen mate and son.
He would hurt Soren. Mayhap even worse. The thought makes me sick to my stomach.
“It’s none of your business, Gunnar. Mind yourself, not me.”
Gunnar snaps his teeth, the gesture so wolfish that Kieran jumps. Wulfric grips his mate’s shoulder, shifting his body so he’s between our brother and Kieran.
“Who is it? Who are you seeing? Are they safe?” Gunnar advances on me. His fur comes to life, crawling down his arms, his nails sharpening to claws. I back up, the doorknob jamming into my hip. My hands fist at my sides. My own wolf stirs under muscle and bone, ready to defend ourselves and our mate from the feral wolf before us.
“I am safe,Gunnar.”
“Are you? Because the last time you thought that, our father was killed, Leif and—and Bjorn. They were—” He blinks fast, shoulders heaving.
Sorrow threatens to choke me, but I fight it back. Anger nips at my patience. “You blame me.”
“No. Never you. I blamehim.”Gunnar’s eyes flare wolf-bright. “Is it him? Are you seeing him?” His hand shoots out, grabbing my shirt and shaking it.
“Gunnar, that’s enough!” Wulfric snaps.
It’s too late. Just the suspicion that I am seeing Soren has Gunnar shifting. His head snaps from side to side as his face starts to reshape itself. His claws bite into my chest.
Shit, shit, shit!
I shove him back and blurt out, “You want to know who I’m seeing? It’s—it’s—”
What do I say? What do I do?
Gods help me.
“It’s Arlo.”
Gunnar goes completelystill.
I want to reach down my throat and shove the words back down, but it’s too late. The damage is done.
“I just… I assumed that since you did not want him, that it was all right if I did,” I blabber, desperately looking at anything but my brother. In our culture, courting another wolf’s fated mate is considered a serious offense. Wolves have come to blows over it, killing each other. But Gunnar rejected Arlo. We all witnessed it.
I should be safe.
Should.
“I see.” Gunnar’s voice is so startlingly human, I almost don’t recognize it as his. When I find the guts to face him, I notice he’s reverted back to his normal appearance. There are dark circles under his eyes, like his beast has been restless at night, but they have ceased to glow. His nails are no longer sharp, bitten down until they’re blunted.
Somehow he looks worse as a man than he does when his wolf rides him.
“Have I offended you?” I ask.
Gunnar blinks several times, eyes unfocused. “The witch is not mine. Do as you like with him.”
He can’t possibly mean that. “Gunnar, he’s your—”
“He’s nothing to me!” Gunnar’s roar rattles the windows. “My mate, the one I chose… he’s gone.” Gunnar’s jaw works furiously, his eyes glistening and full of anguish.
My heart breaks for him. “Brother—” I reach for him, but he storms past me and out into the night.
A shuddering sigh heaves from my chest.
Gods, what have I done?
