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“Exactly.”

“I need to speak with Carrie and the other biologists,” I said.

“Tomorrow,” he said.

“Why not tonight?”

“You said it outside: arcane werewolf shit.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“It means that we’re four nights from the full moon, and you’re my lupa.”

“I heard you’ve been taking applicants for the job,” I said.

He smiled, and it wasn’t nearly embarrassed enough. “You may find it strange, but a lot of women find me attractive.”

“You know I don’t find that strange,” I said.

“But you’re still with Jean-Claude,” he said.

I shook my head. “I’m out of here, Richard. I’ll stay around and try to keep you from being killed or getting any of our pack killed, but let’s drop the personal stuff.”

He closed the distance between us, and I put my hands up to keep him from touching me. My hands ended up pressed to his bare chest. His heart thudded against my hands like a trapped animal.

“Don’t do this, Richard.”

“I tried hating you, and I can’t.” He put his hands over mine, holding them against the hard smoothness of his chest.

“Try harder.” But it was a whisper.

He leaned over me, and I drew back. “If you don’t dry your hair, you’re going to have to wet it down again.”

“I’ll risk it.” He kept moving towards me, lips half parted.

I stepped back, pulling my hands out of his, and he let me. He was strong enough that he didn’t have to let me, and that still bothered me.

I backed towards the door. “Stop trying to love me, Richard.”

“I have tried.”

“Then stop trying and just do it.” The door was pressed against my back. I grabbed the doorknob without turning around.

“You ran from me that night. You ran from me to Jean-Claude. You pulled his body around you like a shield to keep me away.”

I opened the door, but he was just suddenly there, holding it half-closed. I started tugging on the door, and it was like pulling against a wall, immobile. His one hand pressed flat on the door, against the pull of my entire body, and I couldn’t budge him. I hated that a lot.

“Damn it, Richard, let me go.”

“I think you’re more afraid of how much you love me than you are of Jean-Claude. At least with him you know you’re not in love.”

That was it. I wedged my body in the door enough so he couldn’t close it on me, but I stopped tugging on it. I looked up at him, at every gorgeous inch of him. “I may not love Jean-Claude in the same way I love you.”

He smiled.

“Don’t get cocky,” I said. “I do love Jean-Claude. But love isn’t enough, Richard. If love were enough, I wouldn’t be with Jean-Claude now. I’d be with you.” I looked into his big, brown eyes and said, “But I’m not with you, and love isn’t enough. Now, get away from this damned door.”

He stepped back, hands at his side. “Love can be enough, Anita.”

I shook my head and stepped out on the steps. The darkness was thick and touchable but not yet solid. “The last time you listened to me, you killed for the first time, and you haven’t recovered from it. I should have just shot Marcus for you.”

“I’d have never forgiven you for that,” he said.

I gave a harsh sound that was almost a laugh. “But at least you wouldn’t be hating yourself. I’d be the monster, not you.”

His handsome face was suddenly very solemn; all the light fled from it. “Whatever I do, wherever I go, Anita, I am the monster. You left me because of what I am.”

I stepped down onto the ground, staring up at him. There was no light inside the cabin, and Richard stood in a darker shadow than the coming night. “I thought you said I left you because I was afraid of how much I loved you.”

He looked confused for a second, not knowing how to deal with his own logic thrown back into his face. He finally looked at me. “Do you know why you left me?”

I wanted to say, “Because you ate Marcus,” but I didn’t. I couldn’t say it staring into his face, so ready to believe the worst of himself. He wasn’t my problem anymore, so why did I care how hurt his ego was? Good question. I was out of good answers. Besides,