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I try to tell him I can do it myself. Same with soaping up my body. Showering with him is one thing. Letting him wash me? I know I should stop him, but then he insists and I… I give in.
I do the same thing when it comes to breakfast. I’m too ravenous to refuse, and considering his worry over me starving is what started last night, I don’t even think about saying no.
West, on the other hand, obviously thinks something monumental shifted between us after last night. Not only does he take my hand in his again, laughing as he leads me to the kitchen, pampered Helene gets to take a seat in the kitchen while West whips breakfast up for us. He serves me the thickest slices of bacon as an appetizer, watching as I nibble on them daintily before—with a satisfied smile—he finishes cooking the rest of the meal.
Every bite is a struggle. I’d like to blame it on my self-imposed hunger strike—since this is the first thing I’ve had since the peanut butter and jelly sandwich from my first night in the cabin—but even I’m not that naive.
The food sits heavy in the pit of my stomach because I’m viscerally aware that I’m only putting off the inevitable.
I have to tell him. He needs to understand that last night was a mistake, and that it can’t happen again. Letting him wash me, feed me… those are things a male shifter does for his mate. By allowing it, I’m giving him the wrong idea.
And, Luna help me, I can’t seem to stop myself.
I don’t want to hurt him. My omega nature got the better of me last night. I wanted to save him when he seemed to teeter too close to the edge, but instead of just being the Omega, the real Helene came out to play.
Helene loves this male. I couldn’t deny it, and then… I got lost in the game I wasn’t supposed to be playing at all. And now he’s convinced I’m going to love him—to choose him—and I know I won’t.
He doesn’t. He has no idea. For the next two days, I get a glimpse of what life would be like if IwasWest’s mate. As though that moment of connection between me and him—his wolf and mine—was enough to erase the last three years between us, he’s the West I remember. Devoted and gentle, charmingly cocky, yet kind. He treats me like I’m precious to him. He kisses me. Cuddles next to me as we share my bed. He even starts talking about going back to Hickory and starting over there together.
I want that. The longer I let him has his fantasy, the more I wish I could just join him. Even knowing that I have every intention of crushing his heart again, it’s like the other night all over again.
Five more minutes and I’ll come clean.
Five more minutes and I’ll tell him the truth.
Five more minutes and I’ll watch my West shatter…
He admitted it himself. These last three years, he refused to give up on me—onus—because I never rejected him. I still can’t. Time’s running out, so I know I’ll have to eventually, but what will happen to him then?
That’s how I justify it to myself. And, yes, I know it’s as weak an excuse as it sounds.
Because the truth of it all is this: I’m a coward. I’m a coward and I’m selfish, and I wish I wasn’t those things just like I wish that I could abandon pack life and just settle down in this cabin with West forever.
I thought about it. Last night, as West snored next to me, arm thrown over my nightgown as though he needs to make sure I’m close even as he’s sleeping, I lay awake, thinking about just staying here. Once I got over my shock and anger at him bringing me to this secluded den, it hasn’t been so bad.
It’s peaceful. We don’t have any pack politics getting in our way. No packmate coming to me so that I can make them feel better at the expense of my wolf. No Bishop standing over my shoulder, telling me what I’m expected to do. No females throwing themselves at West because being the Beta’s mate would be a coup for any of them…
But then I remember that he’s the Beta, a position he deserves and that’s he perfect for. I couldn’t ask him to give that up. I know he would—for me—but what about the rest of Hickory? We have two more budding alphas in the pack. Nancy is the same age I was when I was made the pack Omega; she could easily fill my shoes. But West? He’s the only beta wolf we have.
The Sylvan Pack needs him more than I do, and I’ve known that for a long time. He might think that my determination to do my duty to the pack by mating Rafael Cruces and forming an alliance with the Gravetail Pack is ridiculous. Maybe it is. But hasn’t West sacrificed enough on his own to be our Beta?
Wearing that emotionless mask when he suits him, going out alone into the trees to let off some steam and hide his pain… he only does that because he’s the Beta, and our entire pack expects him to be the level-headed one. The rational foil to Bishop’s powerful alpha wolf… he’s not allowed to lose control.
But he did. And that’s another reason I seriously think about staying away from Hickory. The other night, I decided to stay so that Bishop and the rest of his pack council would never know how close West came to going feral.
In my own way, I’m protecting him. But I won’t be able to do that forever, and I know West enough to know that he wouldn’t even want me to try.
Besides, sharing a life with West again even if I could… those are only dreams. Silly dreams that belonged to me when I was still a girl. When our ranking in the pack meant nothing to two wolves in love...
That was a lifetime ago. What we’re doing right now is trying to recapture that, but it’s impossible. All I’m doing is prolonging the moment until the fantasy comes crashing down on the both of us.
Deep down, I’m sure he’s aware that it’s coming. Like he has been all along, West is in denial about our future. I can tell from the way he falls asleep, whispering his ‘I love your’s while I’ve barely said a handful of words in days. He can sense me pulling away from him even while I’m at his side.
There’s no reason to keep doing this to either one of us.
He murmurs when I leave the bed. I don’t even think he’s conscious. Half-asleep, he senses the empty space next to him and reacts to it.
I tell him, “Bathroom,” and that seems to be enough of an explanation for him. He probably thinks I’m just going to pee, then I’ll be right back. Stopping only to get a fresh dress—and trying not to notice that there are so many more hanging up inside the closet, as though he never expects us to leave—I slip into the bathroom and take a quick shower.
