005

RAMSEY

“Did you know?" Zara asks.

I already know exactly what she means. Five years later, and she is still this easy to read.

"You weren't subtle."

Her lips part. "You're lying."

"You stared at my mouth every time I spoke."

Colour floods her cheeks, and my cock twitches.

"I did not."

"You did. Constantly. Like you were wondering how I'd taste if you ever got the chance."

"I was eighteen!"

"Which is exactly why I kept my hands to myself and pretended not to notice."

That finally shuts her up. The amusement drains out of me just as quickly. I put the cigarette out and lean back in the chair, letting the silence settle between us while I look at the woman who used to be strictly off-limits.

Five years ago, she had been eighteen, furious at the world, and completely convinced she understood what she wanted. I had been married to her mother. It had been my responsibility to understand the difference, even when she looked at me like she wanted to climb into my lap and ruin both our lives.

Her warm amber gaze lands on the bowl.

"So you didn't want me."

"Not then."

Her fingers tighten around the spoon. I watch the disappointment cross her face before she can hide it, and something restless and ugly shifts under my skin in response. She looks up again, her chin lifting in that stubborn way that has always done damage.

"And now?"

There it is. The question she put that dress on for.

I let my eyes travel the way I've wanted to since she walked into the room.

Fire engine red hair that flows all the way to her stomach. Bare shoulders. The soft curve of her tits under black fabric that doesn't hide nearly enough. That narrow waist I could span with both hands.

By the time I reach her face again, she's glaring, cheeks flushed, her pulse visible in her throat.

"You've spent the last hour testing that question."

"And?"

"You already have your answer."

"Say it."

Zara has always liked striking matches and then acted surprised when something catches fire.

"I want you." I don't soften it. "I wanted to kiss you at the cemetery. I wanted to fuck you in the car until you forgot every reason this is a terrible idea. And that dress is making it very difficult to remember why I shouldn't drag you across this table right now."

Her lips part on a small, choked sound. I let the silence stretch until she's squirming in her chair.

"Ramsey—"

"Wanting you and taking you are still two different things."

Her expression hardens.

"Because of Mum?"

Among other reasons. The most immediate one is currently hard against the front of my trousers.

"Yes."

She looks down again. I force myself not to reach across the table. If I touch her right now, I will have her bent over it before either of us finishes another sentence, and the scarf around my wrist is already making that harder than it should be.

She takes a careful breath.

"Why does it hurt when I move away from you?"

Finally.

"I have a theory. I wanted to be certain before I said it out loud,” I tell her.

"And?"

I meet her eyes and hold them. “I think you're my mate."

Her forehead creases. "Your what?"

My lips tilt upward.

"In my world wolves form a bond with one or more persons. It's instinctive. Usually permanent, unless rejection is involved."

Her spoon lowers slowly.

"You mean like a soulmate?"

"No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"Humans romanticized the word. A mate bond isn't soft. It isn't gentle. It's a claim and a need and the constant, specific urge to put my mouth on every inch of you until you stop fighting it and start asking for more."

Her mouth opens. Nothing comes out for several long seconds. I reach for my water and watch her struggle with the information while my wolf watches her right back.

Finally she says, "So your wolf picked me."

My fingers tighten around the glass.

My wolf has not been quiet since she came downstairs. He has been watching her the entire time, cataloguing every shift of her body, every change in her scent.

For months he has been pushing harder against my control. Around Zara he doesn't fight me. He waits. I'm still not sure whether that should reassure me or terrify me more.

"The bond chose us," I say.

"And this is normal?" She asks.

"Separation discomfort can happen after a bond forms. Not usually within hours, and not this severely."

"So I'm defective."

I take another drink and let her sit with it. She looks at the scarf tied around my wrist, then at the sweater in her lap.

"Why does this help?"

"Scent."

"So you really can smell me."

"Yes."

Trouble lights in her eyes the same way it always has. I recognize it a second too late.

"You never answered me earlier. What do I smell like?"

My wolf surges in response. My fingers tighten around the glass until the crystal threatens to protest.

"Peaches and something I can't figure out."

She's quiet for a moment, processing. "But I'm human."

"No."

Zara blinks like I've struck her.

"Excuse me?"

"You're not human."

A disbelieving laugh bursts out of her. "I think I'd know."

"Whatever you are, Zara, you're responding to a mate bond. Your scent changed the second I touched you at the cemetery. Your body is reacting to distance in a way no human body should be able to."

Her face has gone pale. "What am I?"

"I don't know yet."

"Am I a werewolf?"

"Possibly. You don't smell like one though."

"Then what the fuck do I smell like?"

My wolf presses harder behind my eyes. For several seconds I can't breathe properly.

Zara leans forward, her concern cutting through the anger.

"Ramsey?"

I push back from the table. The room tilts, barely enough that anyone else would notice, but I notice.

The dining room disappears. For one second I am standing somewhere dark with blood beneath my boots and someone screaming far away. Then I'm back, my hand locked on the edge of the table hard enough to hurt.

Zara is standing. I don't remember her getting up.

"Ramsey?"

Her voice sounds like it's coming from underwater. I blink, and she's beside me, her fingers touching my wrist. Everything inside my skull settles too quickly.

Fuck.

"What happened?"

"Nothing. I need to go out."

I don't wait for her response, I head out to the terrace, my breathing unsteady.

I lean against the wet railing. Dr. Bryant's words from six hours ago return to my mind.

"The deterioration has accelerated since your last examination."

One year.

That's what Bryant gave me this morning. A year, if the deterioration continues at its current rate. Less if the blackouts become more frequent.

One year before my wolf becomes permanently dominant.

One year before there is a body walking around with my face and nothing left inside it that answers to Ramsey.

One fucked-up reason why I can't be with Zara.

I close my eyes, gripping my temples. I wonder how my elder brother felt knowing he was losing himself. At least, he had a possible cure. I don't.

I'm simply fucked.

The house is too quiet when I decide to return. I know something is wrong before I reach the bedroom door. It stands open by three inches. I remember leaving it closed.

I push it wider.

Zara is standing beside my desk, barefoot, still wearing that fucking dress, one drawer open and several papers scattered across the surface. And she is pointing my own gun at my chest.

Fuck.

My cock swells in my pants at the obscenity of the view in front of me.

"Don't move," she grits out, and I tilt my head.

"Look at that, you made a mess." I jerk my chin towards the scattered paper, and she clenches her jaw.

Then she takes out her other hand from behind her and slams a massive ledger on the table. Ah. Busted.

"Answer me. Are you a fucking murderer?" She demands, and I smile.

"Yes."

Blood drains from her face. "W-what?"

I shrug lazily. "You heard me, Redbird."

Her hand starts shaking. "Did you kill my mother?"