"No." I hesitated. "But it wasn't the first time I've been shot with silver, and probably won't be the last."
"No, I guess not."
I frowned at the edge in his voice. "What's wrong?"
His gaze searched mine for a minute, his green eyes curiously flat. "You don't know?"
"Know what?"
He snorted softly. "Guess I had that coming."
"What?" God, I felt like I was watching a foreign movie, with the main character speaking a language I just didn't understand.
"It doesn't matter."
"It obviously does, so explain what the hell you're talking about."
"I shouldn't have to explain, Riley."
"So consider me thick and do." And then, suddenly, realization hit me. "You think you should have been able to protect me?"
My voice was incredulous, and annoyance shot through his eyes.
"I'm an alpha. It's part of my job to protect those I care about."
"But that's ridiculous. A, because I can generally protect myself, and B, because the shooter was a vampire and regular werewolves haven't the speed to go up against one."
"You did. Have."
"But I'm not your regular, everyday werewolf."
"Something I'm seeing more and more."
I raised my eyebrows at the deepening edge in his voice. "It's not like I've ever hidden what I was from you." Not when we started going out for real, anyway.
"No, but hearing it and seeing it are two entirely different things." He shuddered. "You didn't even react when you saw that man's brains splattered all over the sidewalk. Not emotionally, anyway."
"Because I was too busy trying not to get shot."
"People trying not to get shot don't get up and race toward their attacker. That's not normal, everyday behavior."
But I wasn't a normal, everyday person. I hadn't been when I was born, and was even further from that now.
"So what, exactly, are you saying?" The question came out a little hoarse, because fear suddenly had my heart lodged somewhere in my throat.
"I don't know." He squeezed my fingers lightly, though if the gesture was meant to reassure me, it failed miserably. "I can't help my innate need to protect you."
"But I'm not asking you to stop it, so what's the problem?"
"The problem is, I obviously can't. It's in my nature to try, but there are things—people—in your life that I will never be able to protect you from."
"I can't help what I do, Kellen. And the one thing I don't expect from you is protection." Caring, comfort, and understanding, yes. And definitely love, But protection? I had Rhoan for that. It had been just the two of us from the beginning of our lives, and it would be the two of us until the very end. I needed no one else when it came to that.
"I know you don't," he said, "and that's probably part of the problem right now."
I stared at him for a moment, then rubbed my eyes wearily. "So what does this mean for you and me?"
Because it sounded like the shit was going to hit the fan again—emotionally rather than figuratively—and I really wasn't ready for another kick in the gut. Not after I was starting to pull it all together again.
"Right at this particular moment, it means nothing." He hesitated. "It's just that, like you, I have things I need to think about."
"What's the point of me coming to a decision if you're in the process of backing away?"
He took my hand in his again. "I never said I was backing away, Riley. I just said I needed to think a few more things through. You're not getting away from me that easily. Not after I've fought so long to pin you down."
And yet, despite his words, despite the warmth flaring across his lips and the tenderness in his bright eyes, part of me wasn't reassured.
He glanced at his watch, then said, "What time are you getting out of here?"
"I'm not sure yet. Rhoan's gone to find the doctor."
"Would you like me to come back and pick you up? Take you home?"
By home, he meant his place, not mine. And I wasn't sure I was ready for that after everything he'd just said. So I shook my head.
"There's a heap of stuff I have to do at home, and I haven't even unpacked from the holiday yet."
"So when do I get to see you again?"
"That depends on your definition of 'see.' "
"You know what my definition is." He kissed my fingers, his lips so warm on my skin. A tremor ran through me. I wanted to feel his lips all over me, kissing and teasing and exploring. I ached for his touch with a suddenness that surprised me, and yet, reluctance—or was it fear?—held back the words that would have had him in my arms tonight.
It was stupid, I knew it was stupid, but I couldn't get rid of this fear. What if I gave more of myself to this man, and he had more second thoughts?
Tuesday, I thought. I had until Tuesday to give him the answer. Which gave him until Tuesday to settle his thoughts and decide whatever it was he had to decide.
He glanced at his watch again. "I have to leave for a meeting. Promise you'll ring me if you get out of here tonight?"
"I'll ring."
"Good." He rose and kissed me good-bye. It was a light kiss, a gentle kiss. Like I was a porcelain doll that was so very fragile.
Only I had never been—and never would be—fragile. And if Kellen wanted that in a relationship—wanted someone he could protect—then he was chasing the wrong woman. Not that I didn't want someone to love and protect me. I just needed someone who could love me as I was. And that included the part of me that was a trained hunter. A trained—if somewhat reluctant—killer.
I might have told Kellen what I was, but until tonight it hadn't really connected on any deeper level. And I could only hope that the realization of who and what I was didn't spell the end for us.
Because I didn't want to lose him.
Chapter Eleven
It was another three hours before the doctor managed to drag his overworked butt into my room. After a quick check—during which he marveled over the pink scar on my leg and healing capacity of werewolves in general—he declared me fit enough to go home. To say I limped out of there in record time would be the understatement of the year.
Once in the car, I rang Kellen to let him know I was out. He invited me to lunch the next day, and I accepted happily. No matter what he might have said, he still wanted to be with me. Right now, that was all that mattered.
When Rhoan and I got home, I had a shower and something decent to eat. With body and belly happy, I went into Rhoan's room, grabbed his laptop, then hobbled over to the sofa.
Rhoan plopped a coffee on the table next to my feet, the heat of the cup warming the side of my foot even though it wasn't actually touching, then sat down on the sofa opposite.
"What are you looking for?"
"I asked the cow to do a full background search on Jorn and Yohan Duerr, the owners of Mirror Image."
"Do you think the man you smelled at the club was Jorn or Yohan in disguise?"
"Possibly. And if he was also the man Adrienne ran into at the club, then it would certainly explain her rushing off to the island."
He frowned. "How?"
"Apparently she has a psychic gift that allows her to see images of the past or future when she touches people."
"Oh, that would not be a fun one to have."
"No worse than having ghosts wanting to sit around and chat." I rubbed my leg gently, wondering how long it was going to take for the ache to go away. "Jorn and Yohan apparently shipped over here a couple of years ago from England. I just wanted to know why they came here—whether they were running to better weather, or simply running from trouble."
"If they were running from trouble, they wouldn't have gotten into the country."