* * * *
Kat heard the cabin door open. She hitched the comforter closer to her nose and closed her eyes. Soft steps echoed in the living room, then the smell of rain and man entered the bedroom.
She tensed a little, not sure what to expect. Not sure what sort of mood he might be in. But he walked across to the fire not the bed, and the tension slithered away.
The soft rustle of material told her he was undressing. She resisted the urge to look and tried to keep her breathing soft and even, though she had no doubt he knew she was awake.
When he made no further sound, she opened her eyes. He faced the fire, his hands on the mantle, knuckles white. The glow of the flames caressed his bare body, making his skin appear almost golden. Tension knotted his shoulders, and his breathing was rapid. Because of the moon. Because of what she'd done. Because of what they hadn't finished.
Guilt slithered through her, but as she gripped the comforter to toss it aside, he said, "Don't move."
She hesitated, then obeyed. "Why?"
"Because there's something I need to tell you. Something I need to explain."
Though surprise rippled through her, she said, "You really don't have to."
"I do, because you're right. There's something between us, and I need to explain why it can be nothing more than what it already is."
No explanation could make her believe that. But as the swirl of his emotions began to invade her senses and fill her mind with the echo of his pain, she wasn't so sure.
He hesitated. "I was seventeen when I met Jacinta."
His voice was soft, but full of remembered wonder. And suddenly she didn't want to hear any more, because already it was obvious that despite her determination to believe otherwise, this woman still had what she never would. She briefly closed her eyes and fought the urge to scream at fate for putting this man in her path when it was far too late for them to build anything together.
"She was three years older than me and had come to my home town for a skiing vacation with several of her friends. She ended up staying long after they'd left."
She briefly closed her eyes. "You don't have to continue."
"I asked her to marry me," he said softly. "She accepted."
It hurt, though God knew it shouldn't have. Especially since he'd warned her going in — not that she'd ever been one to listen to warnings unless they truly suited her.
Her gaze slid to his hands, and she frowned. He wasn't wearing a wedding ring, and she had a suspicion he still would be if they'd actually married. Especially seeing a werewolf gave his heart for life. "So what happened?"
His hurt swam around her, deep enough to drown in.
"She didn't know I was a werewolf. I showed her that night."
"Oh."
"I wish that was all she'd said." Bitterness edged the anguish in his voice.
One piece of the puzzle fell into place. "So that's why you loathe your werewolf half?"
"It lost me the woman I loved. It lost me — " He stopped and took a deep, shuddering breath.
And she knew then there was far more to this story than what he was admitting now. "So she wasn't a werewolf herself?"
"No."
"She never got over the shock of it?"
"No."
And neither, obviously, had he. She rose from the bed and walked up behind him. He didn't move, didn't react, so she simply put her hands around him and pressed her cheek against his back. He was so tense, his muscles quivered.
"If she loved you, surely she would have eventually seen past that."