“Why? It’s what you are.” Korrin shrugged, unbothered by the growl in his voice. “Nothing wrong with it. Some males aren’t built for pack life. I thought I was one of them, for a long time.”
“And now?”
“Now I have a mate who refuses to let me retreat into my own head.” A wry smile curved Korrin’s lips. “Tessa has a way of making solitude seem less appealing.”
The words hit closer to home than he wanted to admit. He immediately thought of Ember—her quiet determination, her unexpected laughter, and the way she’d started to fill the empty spaces in his cabin with warmth and purpose.
He said nothing.
They found the sleigh where he’d dropped it, half-buried in snow. They brushed away the snow and both of them took a handle. The weight was familiar, grounding.
“So,” Korrin said as they started back towards the cabin. “Your female.”
“What about her?”
“You haven’t claimed her.”
His jaw tightened. “That’s none of your business.”
“Probably not.” Korrin didn’t seem concerned by the warning in his voice. “But I’m curious. I watched you almost kill me because you thought I might be threatening her. That’s not the reaction of a male who doesn’t care.”
“I never said I didn’t care.”
“Then why hold back?” Korrin ducked easily under a low-hanging branch. “She’s clearly willing. More than willing, if I’m reading the scent markers right.”
He shifted uncomfortably. The cabin would be saturated with the evidence of their shared desire—every moment of tension, every interrupted kiss, every night spent lying awake wanting what he couldn’t let himself take.
“She’s leaving,” he said flatly. “The southern pass will clear soon. She has a life waiting for her down below.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“So she’s leaving.” Korrin’s tone was maddeningly reasonable. “Why does that mean you can’t go with her?”
He stopped walking. The question threatened to steal the breath from his lungs.
Go with her.Of course the thought had crossed his mind. In the quiet hours before dawn, when Ember slept curled against his side and he lay awake memorizing the pattern of her breathing, he’d imagined it. Following her down the mountain, into whatever life waited for her in Port Cantor. Standing beside her as she faced the aunt who’d tried to kill her.
But imagination and reality were different things.
“She wouldn’t want that,” he said, the words scraping his throat raw.
“Did you ask her?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
He turned to face him, frustration boiling up through his carefully maintained control. “I know because I’ve seen this before. Females who seem interested, who act like they want something real, right up until the moment they decide you’re not worth the trouble. Right up until something better comes along.”
Korrin studied him for a long moment, something knowing in his amber gaze. “Ah. So this isn’t about Ember. This is about whoever broke you.”
“Don’t—”
Korrin’s voice gentled, losing its provocative edge. “I’m not trying to dig into old wounds, Rykan. But I am trying to tell you that whatever happened before doesn’t have to dictate what happens now.”
“You don’t know anything about it.”
