“What happens if I say no? If I reject it? What happens to you?”
I could see him deciding how much to say.
“Don’t filter it. No lies. No half-answers.”
“If a fated bond is rejected, there are consequences.” He spoke slowly, like each word was being pulled out of him. “Pain. Chest, head. The wolf becomes harder to control. Bond strain gets worse, not better. Some shifters go feral.”
“Feral meaning what?”
“The wolf takes over. Permanently. The human part doesn’t come back.”
Jesus. “And for me? For the human?”
“The pull doesn’t go away. It becomes more like grief. A loss you can’t explain because nothing visible was taken.”
“So we’re both screwed.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
I sat with that for a minute. Let it settle. I’d asked partly to test him, to see if he’d sugarcoat it, and he didn’t. Told me the truth even though it made him vulnerable, even though admitting rejection could break him handed me a weapon I could use against him whenever I wanted.
“I’m not rejecting it.”
His whole chest expanded on an exhale he’d clearly been holding. Shoulders dropped, fingers uncurled on the desk, and the fear drained out of his face in real time. The relief was so raw, so exposed, that I had to look away for a second because it did things to my chest I wasn’t ready to deal with.
“I’m not accepting it either.” He went still again. “I need to understand what I’m dealing with first. You had two years on me. I need time to catch up.”
His mouth twitched.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face said plenty. Wipe it.”
The twitch got worse. I glared at him until it stopped, which took way too long, and I refused to acknowledge the warmth spreading through my chest because that was counterproductive to the whole ice queen situation I had going.
I should have left then. Got my answers. Should have grabbed my bag and gone home and opened a bottle of wine and sat with all of this by myself.
Didn’t leave. Because apparently I was a glutton for punishment tonight.
“The laws you mentioned last night. Exile or death.”
“Yes.”
“Every night you showed up at my house, you were risking that.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I needed to be near you.”
“That’s not an answer. You need coffee, you don’t risk your life for it. Why did you keep coming back?”
He leaned forward. Forearms on the desk, eyes on mine. “Because those nights were the only time my wolf was quiet. I could sit there, listen to you read, and just breathe. Everything in my life is loud, Andrea. The pack, the company, the council, all of it pressing in constantly. But on your porch, with your voice in the dark, it all went quiet. You made everything quiet. That’s why.”
I stared at him.
