A smile tugged at his lips as the sound of the gently moving water eased his inner turmoil. But that comfort disappeared just as quickly when a pair of plump pink lips and chocolate brown eyes came to mind. As he sat on a fallen tree, he touched his lips with his fingers, recalling the brush of her mouth against his. He scoffed, picked up a small pebble, and flicked it across the pool, where it skipped across the still surface several times before sinking.
He thought back on the years he’d spent with rogues, of all the potential mates he’d witnessed being abused or worse. The naïveté, stupidity, and sheer refusal to learn about lycan laws were killing his race, and he would have never known had fate not led him here. How had he come to find his mate when he’d done nothing to save the mates of countless others? He 62
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didn’t deserve her, but she was his nonetheless. Then another problem occurred to him.
Problem? He snorted. More like a maelstrom of disaster. How could he ever expect to claim Melony when he had no idea how to love her? No one had ever loved him, and he’d never been close with anyone. He cared about the people at Sanctuary, knew they cared about him, but was that love? He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he’d recognize such an emotion . He picked up another rock and threw it across the pool with more force. This time it skipped the width of the water, smacked into a tree on the other side, and bounced into the forest.
He stood and paced back and forth. Good God. He’d never be able to give her what she needed. At the very least, she deserved a man who could love her, and he couldn’t guarantee he’d be able to do that. He’d cherish her, protect her, try his best to make her happy, but would that be enough? The selfish side of him swelled with pride at the thought that she might grow to love him. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like if she loved him, only him, above all others, but it wouldn’t be fair of him to expect that from her when he might not be able to reciprocate.
It wasn’t honorable of him to claim her, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep from doing so in the end. She was made for him, and he was made for her. But why would fate give such a bum deal to Melony? She was beautiful, feminine, caring, sexy, and should be with a man who could love her with a fiery passion that he was sure she was capable of giving in return.
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, thinking about having all of that fiery passion burning under him as he took her.
A small voice in the back of his brain asked when he’d ever considered himself honorable. True, he hadn’t been in the past, but since he’d dedicated himself to reformation, he liked to believe he’d become honorable. An honorable man would love his mate, give her his heart and soul. He had no problem doing the second two. It was the love thing again. Hell, if he were honest, she already held his heart and soul in her tiny palm. She had the power to crush him if she so chose, but he didn’t believe she’d ever hurt him 63
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intentionally. He’d never hurt her intentionally. It was the unintentional part that had him worried.
He stood and smoothed his jeans down his legs. He had to do the decent thing, the right thing, and keep his hands off her. He started back to his cabin. Tonight he would shift and run until exhaustion wrung every last thought of claiming Melony from his brain, although at this point, he wasn’t sure even death could do that.
This time fate had made a mistake. He couldn’t allow anyone to know she was his, or he’d be expected to claim her. He had a duty to his race to make her his, have sons with her, raise their young to respect lycan rules, and help them become good men, men who would be part of the next generation who would fight for the survival of their species.
But none of it mattered. Whatever obligations may be expected of him, he could not subject Melony to a loveless union. He knew firsthand what it was like to always feel disposable, to never be loved, and she deserved better.
The wolf in him howled in pain, and he hung his head in sadness, regret, and frustration. After he got home, he stripped off his clothes in the bathroom, turned on the shower, and stepped under the hot water.
He propped his hands against the shower wall and leaned under the spray, letting it plaster his hair to his head as it ran in rivulets over his body.
He’d been through a bunch of shit in his short life—a short life that seemed to stretch forever under the circumstances he’d existed in—and knew without a doubt, the war he was about to wage against himself where Melony was concerned was going to be the biggest battle of his life, one he’d probably lose.
The memory of her kiss assailed him once again. Son of a bitch. He reached up and flipped off the hot tap and hoped like hell the cold
