Always pulling away.
“Yeah. We should.”
I turn away before I can change my mind, before I can pin her back against that wall and finish what we started.
A car is waitingfor us outside the hotel. Our driver opens the door, and I help Violet climb in before sliding in beside her. The privacy screen between the front and back seats is already up.
We’re alone back here. Just the two of us, with the city lights sliding past thetinted windows.
I can smell her arousal still, mixed with confusion and something else I can’t identify. My wolf is on a hair trigger. All he wants is for me to pull her onto my lap, to finish what we started upstairs.
But a question burns in my throat. I’ve been holding it back all day.
“I need to ask you something. About your medicine.”
She looks at me warily. “What about it?”
“It’s strange that you need to take it at all.” I turn toward her slightly. “No shifter takes daily medicine like that. Even with a weak wolf, your body should be stronger than a human’s.”
Her hands clench in her lap. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying it doesn’t make sense.” My own hands flex with the need to touch her. “Does it have any effects on you? Side effects?”
She’s quiet for a moment. Then: “I feel nauseous after taking it. Weak for a few hours. But I’ve taken it ever since I can remember.”
My jaw clenches. “Since you can remember.”
“Yes. Why does it matter?”
“Because nausea and weakness sound like serious side effects for something you’re supposed to take every day.” I face her fully now. “Have you ever asked what’s in it? What exactly it’s supposed to treat?”
“I was told it helps with my constitution. That I’m sickly without it.”
“Violet.” I lean closer. “I’ve seen your wolf. In your eyes. She’s there. But what if something has been keeping her suppressed all this time?”
She goes very still. “What are you talking about?”
“What if the medicine has another side effect? What if it’s suppressing your wolf instead of helping you?” I choose my words carefully. “It’s just something to consider. To think about.”
Her breathing quickens. “That’s impossible. I’ve taken it forever.”
“I know. And maybe I’m wrong.” I reach for her hand, threading our fingers together. “But doesn’t it seem odd? The nausea, the weakness after every dose. You’ve been told you’re sickly, but are you really? How do you feel today, without the medicine?”
She pulls her hand away and wraps her arms around herself. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I just want you to consider it. That’s all.” I keep my voice gentle despite the urgency clawing at my chest. “Just think about it.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, staring out the window at the passing lights. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
I nod. “Okay. We don’t have to.”
The topic dies, but I see the questions in her eyes, the wheels turning. Good. Let her think about it. Let doubt take root.
The car pulls up to the venue. I retrieve two masks from my coat pocket. Mine is simple, black satin. Hers matches her dress, burgundy adorned with small crystals.
“Turn around.”
She obeys. I tie the silk ribbons, my fingers lingering on the nape of her neck. I want to kiss her there, mark her, make it clear to everyone that she belongs to me.
