“I’m sorry.” The words were raw.
Sorry? She stiffened, glancing at him before pacing to the balcony. “I do not want your pity.” Her voice cracked, exposing the chasm of grief she grappled with daily.
Silence stretched on, making her shift from foot to foot. He was watching her, she could feel it. But she couldn’t face him—not yet. Not unless she wanted him to see just how pitiful she truly was.
“Ellen.” He growled.
Stand tall. Arms crossed. Chin up.
“Ellen.” Firmer. Commanding. Oddly desperate.
It was a mistake, but she faced him anyway. The warring anger, sadness, frustration, and confusion lining his face didn’t help. Deep inside he fought a new battle—because of her. The muscle in his cheek jumped as he reached for her. “Come here.” It wasn’t a request.
Her wolf perked up instantly, refusing to deny him. Still, standing by the bed, she hesitated.
She waited. What he’d experienced was similar to her reading—only he’d experienced things no one should go through. All at once, with no warning, it was no wonder he’d reacted so strongly.
Fear rolled over her. If she and William could choose to become mates, could Hollis choose to end their bond? Would she blame him if he did? How could he stay with her now?
“I….” The muscles of his throat worked. “I never—”
“No.” Her arms tightened around her waist. “Why would you?” And how could he bare to look at her now that he knew?
A roar tore from his chest. Primal. Pure frustration and rage.
“This was not the way to answer the questions you’ve been waiting to ask,” she whispered. “But I couldn’t…?” She broke off. “Some things are best unsaid. You see that now.”
His eyes closed. “I see a lot of things.” A hard laugh followed. “Like I’m a fucking asshole. I shouldn’t have pushed you.”
“It doesn’t matter.” It was hard not to reach for him. His touch had been the first to comfort her in so long. Right now, she wanted comforting. “I can’t erase what you’ve seen or…make it easier to bear—”
“Don’t.” Hollis sat up, his green eyes boring into hers. “Make it easier for me to bear?” He broke off, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.
“Careful,” she murmured, the image of him contorted and twitching all too fresh.
He stood, scowling. “You don’t have to be strong. Not with me.”
He didn’t know what he was saying. Being weak wasn’t an option. Being strong, angry, was her only option since she’d lost Isabel. Cyrus. Byron. The Others—weakness would have
made the target on her back that much bigger.
But words were impossible. A shake of the head was all she could manage.
The muscle in his jaw clenched as he reached for her. His hands, warm, on the back of her shoulders, pulling her closer. “I’ve got you, Ellen,” he whispered. “Let go.”
Here, now, in Hollis’s arms, there was no target. “I can’t,” she whispered, throat tight, painfully tight.
“You saw it. Felt it. What I’ve done—”
“You? You fucking survived.” The word was a rasp. He tilted her head back, his gaze blazing into hers. “Cyrus.” He tensed, his face flushing red and his breath kicking up. But his eyes…his wolf was looking back at her—pushing to come out. “He doesn’t deserve to live.” His arms tightened, a low rumbling coming from deep in his chest. He was struggling for control, struggling against his wolf. A wolf that was ready to defend and protect her. If she needed protecting—which she didn’t.
His words were a growl. “Seeing you in harm’s way is more than I can take.”
“So was watching you battle your wolf.” She challenged.
He shook his head. “We’re not going there. Not now.”
Fine. “I’m not in harm’s way. Not this time.” Surely now, he’d understand. Killing Cyrus was a vow she must honor. “If I can get close enough, I can fulfill my promise—”