“And when I wasn’t upset enough, you had to keep pushing. See what did upset me. Not just flying off to Europe for a few days, but indefinitely…and maybe I should date other guys while you were gone. See if anything dug in enough to hurt.”

“Yes.”

I scrambled up. “You bastard.”

“Hope—”

“No.” I backed away. “You want brownie points for being honest? You hurt me just to see if you could, just to prove that I have feelings for you?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t want to see if I could get a reaction. I wanted a reaction. I wanted you to think exactly what you did—that you’d been seduced, that I was just as cold and self-serving as you’ve always suspected. I wanted to walk away and close the door. Slam it, so I could never come back.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m not sure I do either.”

He pushed to his feet and looked around, then settled onto the couch. I stayed on the floor, arms around my knees.

“I’ve never understood it,” he continued. “What happened that night at the museum. Why I helped you get away from Tristan and why, after I had helped, it was so hard to walk away. Why, even when I did, I couldn’t stay away.”

He shifted to see me better around the coffee table. “Not that I couldn’t understand the attraction. You’re beautiful. You’re smart. You’re fun to be around. But I’ve been with beautiful women, smart women, fun women, and there wasn’t one I didn’t walk away from in the morning. I only ever felt a twinge of regret if I had to leave a piece of jewelry behind. At first, I told myself it was because you were a challenge. You weren’t interested in me and I wanted to change your mind. But even when I knew I could change your mind, I didn’t. Because, if I seduced you, then I’d have no excuse for coming back, and…” A pause. “I wanted the excuse.”

I hugged my knees, wondering if I should say something, but feeling like I wasn’t supposed to.

“I’ve been having dreams. For a few months now…” Another pause, his jaw working, as if trying to figure out how to word something. “I don’t dream very often. It’s usually…wolf. If I postpone my Change, I dream of Changing. If I haven’t hunted, I dream of hunting. I’m reminded, prodded. Lately, I’ve been dreaming of you. Of us. Of…”

He fell silent, jaw tensing again.

“Cabins,” he spat finally, as if making some terrible confession. “I dream of forests and cabins and us, and no one else. I dream of taking you someplace, holing up, making love and making—” He clipped off the last word.

“Making what?”