Or I could tell him how eternally grateful I was that the bond had saved his life, but that I hated what that meant for us—that there could be no us—and how guilty I felt that I could be selfish enough to wish he wasn’t my Protector. Tell him how much I missed Jada and her boyfriend, Ty, but that I was avoiding her calls, because I didn’t want to talk about Misha. Or how I had no idea what was expected of me. How I was supposed to find and fight a creature when I didn’t know what it looked like or what its motives were, in a city that was completely unfamiliar to me. Confide in him that I was afraid my failing vision would continue to worsen to the point that I could lose my ability to fight, to survive and to be...to be independent.

Should I share with him that I was terrified that he would die because of me, like he almost had that night at the senator’s house?

Pulse racing like I’d been running a mile, I shook my head. “There’s nothing to say.”

“There’s a whole Hell of a lot to say,” he countered. “I’ve been giving you space. You needed that, but you have to talk about this. Trust me, Trin. I’ve lost people. Some to death. Some to life. I know what happens when you don’t get the grief and the rage out.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper. I turned toward him then, stomach churning. “I’m fine. You’re fine. We could be so much closer to eating a falafel, and you’re delaying the deep-fried feast.”

Something fierce flared in those pale wolf eyes, making them momentarily luminous, but then he let go of my arm and whatever it was...was gone.

A heartbeat passed and then he said, “We’re going to need to stop by my place first.”

A breath of relief punched out of me. The cabinet in my head stopped shaking. “Why? To get you another shirt?” I started walking toward the street. “We should start packing extras.”

“I need a new shirt, but we need to head back because you smell and you need a shower.”

“Wow.” I looked at him as he fell in step beside me. I could make out a half grin on his face. “Way to make me feel self-conscious.”

As we reached the sidewalk, I looked both ways before stepping out, so I didn’t get run over by someone in a hurry. I blinked rapidly, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the brighter streetlamps, headlights and lit storefronts.

Didn’t really help.

“Smelling you is making me all too conscious.”

“Jesus,” I muttered.

“What does He have to do with your stench?” he teased.