There was such sweetness in her, it pulled at him, even as he struggled to stay away. She thought she was putting him at ease, letting him grow accustomed to her by leaving him food. Speaking to him in that quiet voice that trembled with nerves.

He wondered how many other women, alone in what was essentially wilderness, would have the courage or the desire to talk to a wolf, much less reassure him.

She thought she was a coward—he’d touched her mind gently, but enough to scan her thoughts. She didn’t have any concept of what she had inside her, hadn’t explored it, or been allowed to.

Strong sense of family, great loyalty and pitifully low self-esteem.

He shook his head as he sipped coffee and watched the storm build. What in Finn’s name was he supposed to do about her?

If it had just been a matter of giving her subtle little pushes to discover herself and her own powers, that would have been … interesting, he supposed. He might have enjoyed the task. But he knew it was a great deal more.

He’d been shown just enough to worry him.

If she’d been sent to him and he accepted her, took her, the decision he’d left home and family to make would be made for him.

She was not one of his kind.

Yet already there were needs stirring. She was a lovely woman, after all, vulnerable, a little lost. Those needs would have been natural enough, particularly after his long, self-imposed solitude.

Male required female.

But the needs were deeper, stronger and more demanding than he’d experienced before, or that he’d cared to experience. When you felt too much, control slipped. Without control, there was no choice. He’d taken this year to himself to make choices.

Yet he couldn’t stay away from her. He’d been wise enough, he considered, to keep his distance in this form—at least when she was awake and aware. Still, he was drawn through the forest to watch her, to listen to her mind. Or to sit alone here in this room, cast the fire and study her in the flames.

Love waits.

He set his teeth, set his cup down with a snap of china on wood as the whisper floated over him. “Damn it. I’ll deal with it, with her. In my own time. In my own way. Leave me be.”

In the dark window glass, his own reflection faded, replaced by a woman with tumbling gold hair and eyes of the same rich color, who smiled softly. “Liam,” she said. “Stubborn you are, and always were.”

He cocked a brow. “Mother, ’tis easy when you learn from the best.”

She laughed, eyes sparkling against the night. “That’s true enough—if you’re speaking of your Da. The storm breaks, and she’s alone. Will you leave her that way?”