What I Cannot Say

"Selene Ashford! You look like death."

I spun around in the doorway of my new bedroom. Standing in the hall, with a travel bag over her shoulder and a huge grin on her face, was Mara.

My best friend. My only real friend.

"Mara!" I threw my arms around her. "How did you get here?"

"Your husband sent a carriage. A carriage, Selene. With cushions." She pulled back and looked me up and down. "And you are skinny. And pale. And you have bags under your eyes. What did the Ice Alpha do to you?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? That is worse."

"It was a quiet wedding night," I said. "Separate rooms."

"Separate rooms." Mara pressed a hand to her chest. "Thank the Goddess. I was afraid I would have to fight him."

I laughed. It was the first real laugh since the wedding. Mara dropped her bag on the bed and flopped beside it as if she lived here.

"Okay," she said. "Talk."

"There is nothing to say."

"Selene."

"Truly."

"I have known you since we were six. You chew your thumbnail when you lie."

I looked down. My thumb was right between my teeth.

I dropped my hand. "I am just tired. The wedding, the pack, the rogues. That dead rogue with our mark... it is a lot."

Mara's face softened. "Your father's guards would never let a rogue wear the Ashford brand. Somebody is playing a game."

"I know."

"Do you know who?"

"No."

That part was true. The rest was a lie, and it sat on my tongue like a stone.

Tell her, Thea said.

I cannot.

She is your friend.

She is also the most honest person I know. She would tell me to run.

Maybe you should.

I shoved Thea to the back of my mind.

Mara stayed in my room all afternoon. She unpacked, complained about the food, and told me three stories about our old pack gossip. By evening, my cheeks hurt from smiling.

Then she walked to the window and went quiet.

"Who is that?"

My heart skipped. "Who?"

"The man in the training yard. The one throwing wolves around like they are pillows."

I did not need to look. I knew.

But I looked anyway.

Rhys was in the yard below, shirtless, sweat shining on his shoulders, sparring with two warriors at once. He moved like water. Quick, smooth, sure. One warrior went down. Then the other. He offered a hand to each of them, pulled them up, and said something that made them laugh.

Something inside my chest turned over, slow and warm.

"That is Rhys," I said. "Cain's younger brother."

"Hmm." Mara tilted her head. "He is very..."

"Don't."

"... strong."

"That is all."

"That is not all, because you are blushing."

"I am not blushing. It is warm in here."

"It is freezing in here."

I crossed my arms. "He is my guard, Mara. Nothing more."

Mara turned slowly and studied me. Her eyes were too sharp.

"All right," she said at last. "If you say so."

"I do."

"Then I believe you."

She did not. I could tell. But she let it go, and I loved her for it.

That night, I could not sleep.

The bed was too big. The room was too quiet. My skin felt like it had been stretched too tight over my bones.

At midnight, the pain began.

It started low in my chest, a dull ache that grew into a burn. Then it spread. My ribs. My stomach. My hands. Thea whimpered and curled up inside me.

It hurts, she said. Because you keep pushing him away.

I have to.

Then it will keep hurting.

I gasped. The pain sharpened, like a hot knife twisting between my ribs. I rolled off the bed and hit the floor on my knees. I could not breathe.

I crawled to the door and yanked it open.

The hallway was dark, lit only by one low lantern. And there, standing across from my door with his back against the wall, was Rhys.

He had been guarding me all night. Of course he had.

He saw me and was beside me in a heartbeat.

"Selene!" His hands closed around my shoulders. "What is it? What hurts?"

"You," I gasped. "It is you. It is us. It is this stupid bond."

His face crumpled. He pulled me up against his chest, holding me so carefully, like I might break. The pain eased the second our skin touched. Not gone, but softer. Bearable.

I hated how good it felt.

"I have it too," he said hoarsely. "I have had it since the wedding. I just... I did not want you to know."

"Why?"

"Because you have enough to carry."

My eyes burned. "Does it ever stop?"

"If we are apart long enough, maybe. Or if we..." He stopped.

"If we what?"

He shook his head.

We stayed there, on the floor of the hallway, him holding me, me trying not to cry into his shirt. The lantern flickered. Somewhere in the house, a clock struck one.

"This is wrong," I whispered.

"I know."

"I am his wife."

"I know."

"And I still do not want you to let go."

His arms tightened. He pressed his forehead against my hair.

"Selene," he said, and his voice cracked. "I cannot do this. I cannot stand here every night, three feet from your door, knowing you are hurting because of me."

"Rhys..."

"I can leave the pack tonight." He lifted his head. His eyes were wet and gold and full of pain. "Tell me to stay or tell me to go. Whatever you say, I will do it."