My wolf is whimpering, feeling the pain that’s radiating off our mate, urging me to take hold of him and comfort him somehow.
‘What do you mean?’ I ask softly, studying him carefully, really taking in everything about him. The tightened muscles of his shoulders, the rigid stance like he’s constantly prepared to defend himself, hands fisted at his side, trembling slightly as if he’s fighting his own instincts.
‘I’m protecting myself from you’ he whispers hoarsely.
I’m staring at him, ‘why?’ is all I can force out.
Hadley meets my gaze, pure agony written there, ‘because you are going to pick him’ he replies simply.
I shake my head instinctively, I don’t know who I’m going to pick, I don’t know either of them, not really.
‘No, I haven’t decided’ I argue, taking a step forward.
The war
