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My fingers stilled for a moment when I got to the next part.
Werewolves, saving themselves for their mates, both by choice and by force.
Virgins.
I blinked down at the screen longer than I should’ve.
There had been no supermodels for Zed. No gorgeous women. No sex, at all.
Just me.
I looked up at him.
His eyes remained on the road.
Suddenly, I felt bad for judging him. And running from him. And… everything.
“I was in a shitty place,” I admitted, turning to look out the window opposite him. “At the wedding. Mentally; not physically. The traveling was supposed to help with the restlessness in my chest, but it started to feel like I was running from something. I don’t know what.”
I did know what, though.
My past.
My pain.
My memories.
“You’re a sigma,” Zed said simply. “I’d have been more surprised if you didn’t run.”
