NINE

I stare at him as my heart gallops.

"You came," he says.

"Yes."

"I didn't know if you would. I was going to go to your territory to look for you."

I gasp. "You can't do that! They will kill you on sight. They are extremely territorial and normally leaves no quarter for rogues or invaders."

"It doesn't matter now. You came."

He smiles at me.

The embers light his face.

"Did you wait this whole time?" I ask.

His hair falls across his face. He pushes it back. "Yes."

I shiver against the frigid air. I'm surprised he didn't freeze to death.

He takes a step toward me.

I take a step toward him.

"We're mates," he says.

I gasp. I know it to be true, but hearing the words from his lips is like music to my ears.

"Yes."

We step closer.

Ever closer.

And then he is right there.

Just a fingertip away.

Just a hair's breadth apart.

Close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body.

His golden eyes glint in the dark.

He looks almost hungry.

I close my eyes and step into his embrace.

He is so warm. His skin is smooth and soft. I can feel the hard muscles.

I can feel his heart pounding.

"Rylie," he whispers. "Rylie."

I hear the longing in his voice. I hear the desperation. I hear the love.

I notice his breathing is staggered. He is having trouble controlling it.

He tightens his arms around me.

"Patrick," I whisper back to him.

His face bends down to mine, his golden eyes on my lips.

I feel a shudder run through my body. I want to be brave, but I am shaking.

My heart pounds against my chest and my breath comes in gasps.

I lift my face to his.

His lips touch mine.

As his mouth brushes against mine, I feel my heart seize.

My head spins.

I can't even think of anything else now.

My mouth moves with his.

He tastes sweet. He tastes like love.

I have been waiting for this.

I have been dreaming of it.

My mate.

It's all I can think of.

He pulls back.

"Rylie," he murmurs.

"Yes," I breathe.

"Don't be afraid."

"I'm not." I stare into his golden eyes. "I want to know everything about you."

"Everything?

I laugh. "Yes! Everything! Tell me what you like."

"I like your scent. Your eyes. Your beautiful smile."

I laugh again. "That's not what I mean."

He smiles. "Where should I begin?"

My burning question is how he came to be a rogue.

But I don't know if now is the time to ask.

"How about from the beginning?" I suggest.

He smiles. "All right. I will tell you everything."

I nod.

His smile fades.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"I fear…"

"What?"

"I fear you will not like me once you know my story. That you will not find me worthy."

I want to tell him it's too late for that. My heart has already made its decision. Nothing he can say now will change how it feels.

"Tell me," I say, softly.

"My mother was a human," he says. "My father was a werewolf. He left us when I was very young."

"That must have been difficult for you."

"It was. My mother was a very good woman. She tried her best. I loved her as much as I could. We were very poor. And then she died and I was alone. A wolf in a human world."

"I'm sorry," I whisper as the shocking reality of his story hits me.

He has never had a pack.

"Shall I keep going?" he asks.

"Please." I smile at him to reassure him. "When did you choose the life of a werewolf?"

Patrick looks down. "I- I wanted to be with a human. A girl." He runs a hand through his hair. "I did everything I could to make it work and keep the wolf in me a secret. But one day she hurt me with her words, and I could not hold back. I shifted in front of her. The fear in her eyes... it's something I never want to see again. After that, I ran away and never looked back. I would rather be alone then see fear in the eyes of someone I love."

I sit back, digesting his words.

His eyes are so sad I want to cry.

And I can't help the pang of jealousy I feel for this other girl who once held his affections.

"Did you ever try to join a pack?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "I have been living as a rogue for a long, long time. I have been like this for a very long time."

I stare at him. I feel my heart seize. His loneliness hurts me, as if it is my own. I don't want him to feel alone ever again.

All I want to do is close my eyes and kiss him again.

That musky scent fills my nostrils, raising goosebumps all over me.

"What are we going to do?" I ask him.

"What do you mean?"

"I have a pack."

"And?"

"And rogues are our enemies. A rogue werewolf is a danger, as much to humans as to werewolves."

His shoulders slump. "I see."

I show him my wrists. The skin is still red and sore from the silver shackles Val cuffed me with.

Patrick winces at the sight of them.

He touches the wounds gently. Tenderly.

"I was lucky not to be punished worse than this," I tell him.

"Your pack are brutal," he says.

I feel oddly defensive. "No. There are rules. There must be so we can work together. Everyone knows their place. Everyone follows the rules."

He looks at me like I am naive. "I lived in the human world. There are rules there too. But there are also rule breakers."

"Like you."

"I guess." He looks at me with his mournful golden eyes. "Are you telling me we cannot be together?"

I hesitate. "We could see each other in secret."

"Is that safe?"

"It could be. For a while, I think. As long as I am not noticed."

"And if you are?"

"Then I will have to think of a different plan."

His gaze is serious. "Would you leave your pack for me?"

I stare at him. He doesn't know what he is asking me. It's like asking if I would cut off my left arm for him.

I don't want to lose him.

I don't want to be apart from him.

But my pack is my whole life.

"I see," he says, in response to my silence.

"Patrick, let's not talk of those things," I say. "Not yet. It's complicated. More than you understand."

"I understand perfectly well," he says.

He sounds hurt, and I know he is.

I know I have wounded him more deeply than the injury to his arm.

If I leave with Patrick, I will be a traitor to my pack.

I will be a wanted fugitive.

I will have to cut ties with everyone I know.

I will have to leave my family.

And I will have to give up my life.

"My family..." I tell him. "My friends... they're all part of my pack."

"I understand," he says again.

Then he stands.

"Wait!" I cry as he marches across the clearing.

He halts. Looks back over his shoulder.

"Come back tomorrow," I say.

I think I see him nod, but I can't be sure.

And then, he is gone.