This is nice, Rose told herself firmly.

The man sitting opposite her was certainly nice. Jim—or was it Tim?—had nice eyes, a nice body, nice…everything. Even his voice was nice, a pleasant, gentle tenor. He liked cats and gardening and long walks on the beach.

Rose had never been so completely, utterly, mind-numbingly bored.

She became aware that Tim—or possibly Jim—had paused, looking at her expectantly. She jerked herself back to the present, trying to remember what he’d been talking about. Something about hiking in the Lake District?

“That sounds…nice?” she ventured.

His nice mouth curved in a nice smile, showing nice teeth. She could sense the shy hope kindling in his heart. “It’s so good to finally meet a woman who shares the same interests. I wasn’t sure about coming to this event tonight, but now I’m glad that I did.”

Rose’s polite smile was so fixed, she feared she might never change expression again. She desperately wanted to look at her watch.

To her intense relief, the shrill blast of a whistle broke the awkward pause. “Time’s up!” announced the organizer in a bright, cheery voice. “Gentlemen, please find your final lady!”

Tim-maybe-Jim gave her another of those shy, sweet smiles as he rose. “I’ll definitely be marking your name down on my form, Rose. I hope you’ll mark mine?”

Rose forced out a strained laugh. “Oh, you know it’s against the rules to talk about that now. And you still have one date left. You might like her even more than you like me, Tim.”

His face fell a little. “Jim.”

She winced. “Yes, sorry. Too much chatter in here.” She fiddled with her pen, pretending to write on her form. “Anyway, it was nice to meet you.”

She gusted out a long sigh, slumping in her chair as Jim-not-Tim headed for his next date. Morosely, she followed his retreating back. It was a perfectly nice back. He was a perfectly nice man.

Not our mate, said her swan.

“Oh, be quiet,” she muttered under her breath. “We’re not looking for a mate, remember? Just a nice, normal man.”

She stared down at her list of names. All of them had been nice, normal men. Mostly a little nervous and awkward—as was to be expected at a speed dating event for the over forties—but perfectly pleasant. None of them had had tattoos, or even the slightest hint of danger.

None of them had had dark eyes filled with leashed fire.

With a grimace, she banished Ash’s still, intent face from her mind. If she was going to insist that her swan stop pining after their long-lost mate, she could hardly cling onto a silly crush of her own.

Squaring her shoulders, she forced herself to think positively. She still had one more date to go this evening. There was still a chance she might feel a spark of attraction.

The chair opposite her scraped against the floor. Fixing a welcoming smile on her face, Rose looked up at the man who’d just sat down.

“Wayne?” she said incredulously.

The graying wolf shifter flashed his teeth in what she assumed was meant to be a smile, but looked more like a rictus snarl of pain. “Hello, Rose,” he mumbled, not meeting her eyes.

She blinked at him, completely taken aback. She’d deliberately picked this speed dating event because it was human-run. Shifters tended to organize their own versions of such things, with much larger numbers. When you could recognize your true mate on sight, there was no need for five minutes of getting-to-know-you chit-chat.

“I wasn’t expecting to see any other shifters tonight,” she said, lowering her voice. “What are you doing here?”

Wayne shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “He told me to come.”

“He?”

Wayne jerked his head in a strange, convulsive motion. A sharp, bitten-off whine escaped through his teeth. “Can’t. Can’t talk about that.”

Is he drunk? Rose wondered. Her sense of him was oddly foggy. He was such a dense, swirling soup of contradictory emotion, she couldn’t get a fix on him.

“Wayne, are you all right?” she asked in concern.

“No.” He twitched again, and she sensed a jagged lightning-bolt of pain shoot through the roiling turmoil of his aura. “Yes. Yes. I said yes!”

“You’re hurt,” she said, noticing a bandage wrapped around his right wrist. Fresh red spots were spreading across the dirty gauze.

“New tattoo,” Wayne said, his aura darkening with a peculiar sharp, stabbing splatter of black humor. His left hand closed over the bandage, hiding it from view. “Still getting used to it. Don’t ask me questions.”

Rose knew the old wolf well enough not to pry any further. At least, not right now. He was a proud, stubborn man, and a hard life had taught him to lash out rather than admit weakness. Whatever trouble he was in now, she’d only be able to help him if she was patient enough to let him come to her in his own time.

“Got a question I have to ask you, though,” Wayne continued. “What are you doing here, Rose?”

“Looking for a date, obviously.” Rose raised her eyebrows at him. “And please don’t be offended, Wayne, but I’m not interested in getting involved with a shifter.”

“Specially not me, huh?” Wayne let out a growling laugh. “It’s all right. You’re not my type either.” He eyed her sidelong. “Thought there was one shifter you were interested in, though.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Rose said, in the chilling voice she normally reserved for aggressive drunks.

Wayne should have known better than to mess with her in that mood. Nonetheless, to her surprise, he persisted. “Thought you were sweet on the Phoenix.”

Rose narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ve told you before to mind your own business, Wayne. Keep your nose out of other people’s private matters.”

If Wayne had been in wolf form, she was sure that his ears would have been flat against his skull and his tail plastered between his legs. “Can’t. Have to ask.” Wayne’s bloodshot eyes fixed on hers, oddly pleading. “Rose. Is there anything between you and Fire Commander Ash?”

“No,” Rose bit off, curtly. “And if you ever want to drink in my pub again, Wayne, you’ll drop this at once.”

Some of the tension drained out of his lean shoulders. “Good. Good. That’s good. Don’t…” He twitched, his hand tightening on his wrist. “Don’t—just don’t. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Rose said, utterly baffled. “Wayne, what’s going—Wayne?”

She was talking to his retreating back. Rose started to get up to follow him, but the speed-dating organizer was already chasing Wayne herself, waving her clipboard.

“Sir? Sir! Time isn’t up yet, and you need to hand in your—”

The old wolf rounded on the blonde human, snarling something. Rose couldn’t see his face, but the organizer recoiled, clutching her clipboard like a shield. Without a backward glance, Wayne stalked out, slamming the bar door behind him.

White-faced, the organizer fumbled for her whistle, raising it to her lips. The shrill noise was rather shakier than it had been previously.

“Th-that’s the end of the evening, ladies and gentlemen!” The organizer cleared her throat, rallying herself. “I hope you’ve all enjoyed your dates. Now it’s time to make your final decisions. Gentlemen, if you could come to the bar to hand me your forms. Ladies, please remain at your tables. I’ll come to each of you in turn after I’ve collected the men’s data. I’m sure you’re all eager to discover who you’ve matched with!”

Rose sank back into her chair. She was still half-minded to go after Wayne, but she’d have to push her way through the crowd of men congregating at the bar in order to reach the door. She didn’t want to reject Jim-not-Tim or any of the other perfectly nice men that obviously.

I’ll find out what’s wrong with Wayne tomorrow night, she decided. No matter what was troubling him, she was sure he’d still come to the Full Moon as usual. Chasing madly after someone usually only made them run away faster, after all.

Ash was certainly proof of that.

She was thinking about him again.

Rose stared determinedly down at her form. Her pen hovered over the empty checkbox next to Jim-not-Tim’s name. He had been very nice. Exactly the sort of man she should want. Undemanding. Uncomplicated.

Uninteresting.

“Are you all done with that, Ms. Swanmay, or do you want me to come back in a few minutes?” The organizer had come over to her table, smiling brightly. “There are so many wonderful men here tonight, I know it’s difficult to choose!”

Rose guiltily twitched her sheet up, so that the woman couldn’t see the blank, empty column where she was supposed to mark the men she’d like to see again. She opened her mouth to ask for more time—and paused.

The organiser’s smile was just a shade too fixed. She held her clipboard close to her chest, as though she too had something to hide. Rose focused her empathic sense on the woman, and had a distinct impression of pity.

Rose abruptly knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that none of the men had written her name down.

She thrust her unmarked sheet at the organizer. The woman glanced down the empty column, and her tight expression relaxed.

“Oh, what a pity. There’ll be a lot of disappointed gentlemen,” the organizer lied, relief practically steaming off her. “Well, it’s only your first time. I’m sure if you come back—”

“Thank you,” Rose interrupted, desperate to be out of there. “But I don’t think I will. Excuse me.”

Brushing aside the organizer’s half-hearted attempt to stop her, she fled. The men were still hanging around the bar. Head down, mumbling apologies, Rose pushed through them. She tried not to catch anyone’s eye, but was still painfully aware of Jim-not-Tim glancing in her direction. His gaze passed straight through her, without a flicker of acknowledgment.

Guess he was just being polite too. They were all just being polite.

It shouldn’t have mattered. She hadn’t wanted any of them, after all.

But…it did matter, it did. So many men, and none of them had chosen her. She’d been so sure that at least some of them had been interested.

Then again, she’d been sure of Ash too.

She burst out into the cool evening air, face hot with humiliation. She started walking, fast, her feet automatically turning in the direction of her home. She needed to be back in the Full Moon. Back in her place, behind the bar, where she belonged.

She’d been stupid to ever leave. Stupid to reach for anything more. Stupid to dream.

She scrubbed angrily at her eyes, brushing away the stupid, stupid tears. She didn’t have anything to cry about. She was the person people turned to when they needed to cry. That was her role. That was what she was good at. She provided comfort and support, a welcoming space and a listening ear.

There wasn’t anywhere to go when she needed those things.

As she turned down an alleyway, Rose became aware that there was a slight echo to her footsteps, a soft tread falling not quite in time with her own. She halted, and the sound stopped too. Silence enfolded her like vast, gentle wings.

She squeezed her eyes tight shut. “Ash,” she said, without looking round.

“Rose,” he said quietly, from right behind her.

“This is becoming a habit.” She fought to keep her tone light, betraying nothing of the tears streaking her cheeks. “At least you didn’t have to set fire to anything this time.”

He made a wordless, noncommittal noise as he came up to her side. Rose turned her head away, hoping that the darkness would hide her face.

A jolt went through her as his fingers brushed her elbow, very lightly. “Let me walk you home.”

“Just a minute.” Keeping her head ducked down, Rose rummaged in her handbag for a tissue. “Sorry, I-I’ve got a cold.”

Moonlight silvered the side of his face, casting a shadow over his eyes. He said nothing.

Rose made a show of blowing her nose, surreptitiously wiping her tears as she did so. “There,” she said, shoving the tissue in her pocket. She tried to smile up at him. “I appreciate you watching out for me, Ash, but there’s no need to put yourself to all this trouble. I can find my own way home.”

His hand was still on her arm. It was the barest touch, but she felt it through her whole body. His fingers tightened fractionally, in unspoken command. Without conscious thought, Rose found herself falling into step with him.

“You are upset.” He stared straight ahead as he spoke, not looking at her. “What is wrong?”

“Oh, nothing. I’m fine.”

“Rose,” he said, and nothing more.

She let out her breath. “If I tell you, do you promise not to set fire to anyone’s car?”

His eyes cut sideways. “No.”

That startled a snort of laughter out of her. “Honest as ever.”

She could feel his heat against her side, warm and comforting. After the forced small talk and glaring auras of the speed dating event, his quiet presence was restful. She could sink into his silence like a featherbed.

She sighed again, surrendering. “It’s stupid. I went to this speed-dating event…well, I guess you knew that.” She hesitated, glancing up at him. “Were you there?”

His chin dipped in a fractional nod. He still didn’t look down at her.

Friends, she told herself, commanding her silly heart to slow. Just friends. Of course a friend would be worried, after what happened on my last date. I’d be shadowing me too. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Thank you,” she said, meaning it. “For looking out for me, I mean. Lord knows I don’t have a good track record in men. Though it turns out you needn’t have bothered.” Despite her best efforts, her voice wavered a little, her bottom lip trembling. “It was a complete wash. No one was interested in me.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. “That is not true.”

If he’d been lurking just out of sight, perhaps he’d seen her so-called dates flirting with her. He had no way of knowing that they’d just been pretending. She’d been fooled, and she’d been sitting at the same table, after all.

“It is. They were all just taking pity on me, being polite.” Oh, for heaven’s sake, she was going to start crying again. She fumbled for her tissue, her voice thickening. “If they’d actually been interested, they would have put my name down at the end.”

“They would have done.” Ash’s voice sounded strange, rasping, as though each word was fighting free of his throat against his will. “If they’d remembered you.”

Rose stared at him, caught off-guard with her tissue halfway to her face. “What?”

Ash turned his head away. “They did not remember meeting you. Because I burned their memory of doing so.”

“What?” Rose stopped dead. Grabbing his upper arm, she hauled him round to face her. “Ash! Why on earth—?”

All the breath slammed out of her, her back hitting the rough brick wall. For a second, the world spun, her mind struggling to catch up with the sudden motion.

Ash’s hands bracketed her head, his muscled forearms tense. The dark flames of his eyes filled her vision.

“I burned away their desire to stop them from choosing you.” He was so close that his breath brushed her lips. “Because I could not bear the thought that you might choose one of them in return.”

His intense heat enclosed her. He held himself the barest inch away, his body not quite making contact with her own. The bitter scent of scorched rock rose from where his hands pressed against the wall.

Not our mate! cried her swan.

She brought her hands up to his chest—but not to push him away. His rigid muscles trembled under her palms. She felt the wild hammering of his heart, echoing her own.

“I only want you, Ash.” she whispered. “I will only ever want you.”

Fisting her hands in his shirt, she pulled him closer, banishing that last inch of space. Her swan’s protest was lost in flame. Heat rushed through her, setting every part of her body on fire. If he hadn’t been pressing her so hard against the wall, she would have fallen, utterly consumed.

“Rose.” He said her name like it was the air he needed to breathe, like rain after drought, like his very life. He bent his head, his mouth seeking hers. “Rose.”

Blindly, she turned her face to his, opening to him like a flower to the sun. She was on fire with need, wanting his lips against hers, his body in hers.

He pulled back just before their lips met. She made a desperate, inarticulate sound, winding her hands round his neck, stretching up to him, but he held firm, not letting her close that last tiny gap.

“Rose,” he said again. He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. “There’s something I have to tell you.”