She lurched from the couch, throat thick with emotion. What was she waiting for? Some lycan out there to rape her? For Gideon to gather his nerve and destroy her? She swallowed past the thickness in her throat. She cared for him too much to do that to him.

He took a step toward her. Claire lurched back and held up a hand to ward him off, afraid that he would touch her. If he did, she’d fall apart, crumble right in front of him. Shaking her head, she released a short laugh that sounded strange and brittle. “I bet you wished you had.”

“You have no idea what I feel,” Gideon growled. “Until you, I was fine. I never questioned what I did,” he exploded, green eyes flashing like emeralds in sunlight. “But you’re different. You’re…”

Claire dropped back onto the couch and lowered her shaking forehead into her palm. “Please, Gideon. Stop.” She couldn’t hear it. Couldn’t bear to hear him say he cared for her when she knew it couldn’t go anywhere. She had to protect him—and the world—from herself.

“No,” he broke in. “I won’t.” In two strides he stood before her, wrenching her to her feet. “I’m not soft. I’ve killed others. Too many to count. And I’ve watched those I loved destroyed right before my eyes… my mother, my father.” His eyes scanned her face, and she gasped at the pain visible there. “If I need to, I will kill you.”

Claire couldn’t help thinking he sounded as though he were trying to convince himself and not her. And right then, she vowed it would not fall to him. He’d suffered enough pain in his life. She would not add to it.

She pressed her lips into a firm line. The waxing moon outside demanded she do something. She had no intention of waiting. No more lying to herself. Those lycans tonight had known the truth. So did Kit.

His green gaze clashed with hers. Tension crackled on the air like electricity, palpable and frightening.

She wiggled free of his hold. “It’s late.”

His hands groped air. For a moment, she thought those hands would grab her and pull her back into his arms. And a part of her desperately prayed he would. She wanted to feel his hands on her again. One last time.

Instead, they dropped listlessly to his sides. “Good night, Claire,” he said, his voice flat, lifeless.

Her throat constricted and she nodded mutely, unable to return his good night. Not when it really meant good-bye.