Just like with Jeremy.
The paralysis from the Algea’s venom had locked me down and made me useless when it mattered most. I’d watched the creature’s claws tear into Harris and I couldn’t do a goddamn thing about it except lie there and feel his agony tear through me as if it was my own.
And the worst part? Harris didn’t even seem to register how close he’d come to dying. I’d be willing to bet he hadn’t considered it even once. Instead, he’d shrugged the whole thing off, seeming more concerned about me.
Because that’s who Harris was. Brave. Maybe even reckless. And completely unwilling to back down when someone needed help.
I loved him for all of it. But it was also exactly the thing most likely to get him killed.
Sucking in a deep breath, I looked down at the clipboard again, trying to focus on the numbers. Fourteen bottles of Jack. No—twelve. Definitely twelve.
My wolf whined in my chest, low and plaintive in way that made my teeth clench.
We can protect him, it insisted.We’re strong. We’re alpha.
But we weren’t strong enough. Last night proved that. The Algea had cut through me like I was nothing. If Simone hadn’t been there to heal his injuries, Harris would be dead.
And next time, we might not get that lucky.
I set the clipboard down and braced my hands on the counter, head bowed.
Was there any way through this?
If Harris became a wolf, he’d have better odds of staying alive. He’d be stronger, his reflexes sharper, that much harder to kill. But I couldn’t—wouldn’t—ask him to do that. He’d be giving up everything for me. I couldn’t demand that from him. But he wasn’t the kind of man who’d ever stand back and let others fight while he stayed safe.
Which meant for every battle, for every monster that crawled out of the Otherworld, Harris would be there. Right in the middle of it. Fragile and mortal and so easy to kill.
My chest tightened until I couldn’t breathe.
I’d told him we could figure it out. That we’d find a way. But that was a lie, wasn’t it? There was no way to make this work. No compromise that didn’t end with Harris dead and me standing over his body, wrecked and useless.
I had no choice.
I couldn’t choose my own happiness over his life. It was better if he hated me, so long as he did it from a safe distance.
The door to the bar creaked open.
I looked up, ready to tell whoever it was that we weren’t open yet.
Harris stood in the doorway.
My stomach plummeted. Not yet. I knew what had to be done, but I wasn’t ready to do it. I needed more time.
The late-morning sunlight caught the lines of his face. He was dressed in jeans and a flannel I’d loaned him days ago, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was broader built than me, so the fabric was snug against him, hugging every curve of his physique. But there was something hesitant in the way he stood there, like he wasn’t quite sure of his welcome.
He was so handsome it hurt to look at him.
And he was smiling like he had good news.
I swallowed hard. But it was better this way, wasn’t it? If I waited, I might lose my nerve. I might selfishly choose the life we could have together—however brief—over his safety.
“Hey,” Harris said, stepping inside and letting the door swing shut behind him. “It looks like you’re busy and I know you said you’d be here all day, but I wanted to talk to you about something for a few. Uh—is that okay?”
Then he seemed to take in my expression, which must have been ghastly. I’ve never been good at hiding my emotions, despite my best efforts. And that’s even without being mate-bonded.
“Reed?” He crossed the room, his footsteps loud on the wooden floor, his dark eyes filled with concern. “You okay?”
I forced myself to straighten up and meet his gaze directly. “I’m fine,” I lied.
