"You should," I manage.
"Why? Because you might lose control again? Rhett, humans lose control too. We get angry, we lash out, we hurt people. It's not unique to shapeshifters."
"The scale is different."
"Maybe. But you know what I think?" She shifts forward slightly, lowering the blankets enough that I can see her face clearly. "I think you're not dangerous because you lost control once. I think you're dangerous because you've been keeping yourself locked in a cage for five years, and that kind of repression has to break eventually."
"That's why you need to leave. Before it breaks and you're the one who gets hurt."
"Or maybe," she says softly, "what you need isn't more isolation. Maybe what you need is someone who knows what you are and isn't afraid. Someone who can help you find balance instead of just pushing everything down until it explodes."
"You don't know what you're saying."
"Don't I? I research things for a living, Rhett. I learn and I adapt and I figure things out. Give me some credit."
"This isn't one of your adventure vlogs. This is life and death."
"I know that. I almost died yesterday, remember? And you saved me. The dangerous, out-of-control monster saved my life."
"That's different."
"How?"
"Because saving you and hurting you are… They're not the same situation. I had control then."
"And you have control now. You shifted and then you shifted back. On purpose. Because you chose to."
I want to argue, but she's right. I did choose. The bear listened when I told it to retreat. We worked together for the first time in five years. Because of her. Because the mate bond made the bear cooperative in a way it has never been.
"You don't understand what you'd be getting into," I try one more time.
"Then explain it to me. Help me understand."
I look at her, at this brave, stubborn, beautiful woman who should be running and instead is asking questions. Who faced the monster under the bed and didn't flinch.
My mate.
And for the first time in five years, a tiny part of me thinks: maybe.
Maybe she's right. Maybe I don't have to be alone. Maybe the mate bond is the universe's way of saying I've punished myself enough.
Or maybe it's a test I'm destined to fail.
Either way, I'm too tired to fight it anymore tonight.
"Tomorrow," I say. "We'll talk more tomorrow. Right now, you need rest. Real rest."
"Will you be here when I wake up?"
"Where else would I go? This is my cabin."
"You know what I mean. You're not going to disappear into the woods to protect me from yourself or some other self-sacrificing bullshit?"
Despite everything, I almost smile. "No. I'll be here."
"Promise?"
"I promise," I say.
