My wolf.
The words struck harder than they had any right to.
Not because I had forgotten what I was.
Because everyone else had made it easier to pretend.
The rogue watched me carefully from the bed, his face pale beneath the lantern light. Sweat glistened along his brow. Every breath seemed to cost him something, but his eye remained fixed on mine.
"Has anyone ever told you," he whispered, "why your wolf has never answered you?"
The room fell unnaturally quiet.
Mara stood beside me.
The Alpha stood near the doorway.
Neither of them spoke.
That was the first answer.
My throat tightened.
"No."
The word barely came out.
The rogue's expression shifted.
Not surprise.
Horror.
"She's never spoken to you?"
I shook my head.
The admission felt wrong.
Too private.
Too shameful.
