stronger than our human body, so when it comes to physical danger, the instinct to shift is almost impossible to stop.”
Almost impossible wasn’t the same as impossible. And it didn’t matter what everyone else did or didn’t do. I could only speak for myself. “You’re not telling me anything I haven’t heard before.”
“All right,” Honor said. “Then tell me what it’s like for you. When that wolf attacked you, you didn’t have any…drive or push to shift?”
“I wanted to, but I couldn’t.”
He shook his head, and I reached back to a conversation I’d had with my father, years ago, to try and explain.
“You know that feeling of presence as you shift, and I mean just before your instinct takes over and your rational mind goes away, that few seconds when both the human rational side and wolf instinct coexist in the same space at the same time?”
Honor stared at me, his gaze piercing. “That’s like a millisecond.”
I snorted. “Not for me.”
“You mean you can still think and rationalize even when you’re in your wolf form?”
“Yep.”
He shook his head. Again. But it wasn’t in a disrespectful way. He looked … amazed. “I’ve never heard of anything like that.”
His words prickled my skin. Dammit. I’d said too much. Revealed too much. What if he told the alpha king? I grabbed his arm.
“Please don’t tell anyone. The last thing I need is more scrutiny for being different. Everyone already treats me like a freak for having two affinities.” I straightened, dropping his arm, and gave him an apologetic smile. “Maybe that’s why. Maybe my two affinities are stronger than my wolf.”
I was grasping for straws, but the pity in his expression twisted my insides. There had to be a reasonable explanation for this.
He pulled me in for a hug, surprising me. “Maybe. But I need you to be able to shift and defend yourself. We just want you to be safe, and I would never tell anyone your secret.”
Without him saying it, I knew the “we” he referred to was him and Noble. Sweet and caring, both of them. Or could that “we” also include the other two Midnight brothers? Probably, at least one of them—if one of them was my mate.
Gah! Why did there have to be so many green-eyed boys at this school?
Emotion clogged my throat, and I sank into Honor’s hug. “Thanks for trying.”
Honor kissed my temple and then pulled away. “We’re not done,” he said, crouching to look me in the eye. “I’ll meet you here same time next week.”
I watched him leave, guilt pressed against my breastbone. As soon as he disappeared around the corner, my wolf nudged me.
‘Run?’
Blessed Mother Mage. Really? Now that Honor was gone, she was willing to come out? No one told her what to do.
Granted, I’d been keeping my shifts to once a week so that I didn’t run into my mate again. Staring out into the darkness, I found the normal skittering and hoots served to reassure me that, hopefully, I wouldn’t see him. So long had passed that the odds had to be in my favor. Surely he wouldn’t be out in the woods this late. Right? The stress was going to kill me. Or drive me mad—except I might already be there.
Ugh. I needed to connect to the earth. To feel the air in my fur.
Before I could formulate any further arguments, I marched into the woods, stripping out of my clothes as soon as I’d cleared the tree line.
With a deep breath, I relaxed, letting my wolf surge forward. The fur prickled as it spread down my skin, and I grinned as my bones twisted and morphed. Seconds later, I let my tongue loll out of my mouth in the wolf-equivalent of a grin. I so needed this.
Racing into the forest, I left the tension of the last few weeks behind and thought of nothing but the night and the beauty of the woods. The scent of wolf was everywhere, but this deep into the forest, the other smells ruled. Early autumn’s foliage, decomposing mulch, the scat of small rodents and birds.
And then I sensed him.
‘Mate.’
I couldn’t say if it was by smell or just the feeling, but I had time to flee. Only I didn’t really want to. The large black wolf stepped from behind a tree, slowly approaching.
‘Mate.’
Closing my eyes, I let him approach.
‘Missed you.’ He nuzzled my neck. ‘Smell good.’
But the intimacy of the gesture—of his touch—upset me, and I stepped back. ‘No. You left me.