I paced my room, having not even bothered to undress. What the hell was I thinking kissing her like that? I mean, I wanted to, I needed to, but I’d no doubt crossed a professional line. I’d taken my focus from the mission, had maybe put myself and her in jeopardy by dropping my guard for even a moment. What if this had been Afghanistan or some other dangerous situation? I could have gotten us both killed!

I growled at myself, my fists clinched so tightly my knuckles popped.

And the worst part about it? It had felt so wonderful! Like slipping into a hot spring after a long, hard day. Like running beneath the moon with my pack, the smell of a hunt hot in my nostrils. Like when the bullets whiz right past your head or the bomb misses its mark. It made me feel alive, I realized, for the first time since I’d been risking my life every day.

I shook my head. But, still, protocol. The mission. I’d let it down. Peter was going to be pissed that I’d fucked up.

Of course, I realized, Peter had to have known it would happen. He had to have known how strong my pull to Jessica would have been, like two magnets drawn to one another across a vast distance, two heavenly bodies drifting together from their own mutual, gravitational attraction.

And, if he’d known I couldn’t resist her, that it was my instinct driving me, then he had probably put me in this position to begin with. That idea, no matter if it was wrong or right, took a little sting from my self-flagellation.

I was a soldier, though. I was trained to resist my instinct. I was taught to rush towards danger, towards the enemy as they actively tried to kill me. To act on my training.

That, I admitted, I hadn’t done. I’d listened to the song inside my blood. I hadn’t been able to resist it. I growled again, fighting back the urge to lay into the wood panels that lined the bedroom. My hands remained at my sides, still tightly clenched, still alive with the feeling of her touch on them.

My only thought was to maintain the mission. To keep myself focused. Maybe if I did that I would keep myself from slipping into her room. And I knew that I could. She wouldn’t turn me down, instead she’d welcome me with a warm bed and open arms.

I shook my head again.

No. I needed to remember she was a human, a woman. As much as my shifter urges pressed on me to just go into her room, I still needed to wait. She was my mate, and I knew it, but there was still the mission. Still her to protect.

But more than that, deeper even than the needs of the mission, or of my own instincts gnawing away at my insides like a hungry wolf…how was I going to tell her the truth?

That I wasn’t even human.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, head in my hands. I’d stayed distant from women in the past specifically because of this. How do you tell a woman you care about that you’re a shifter? That, if we had children, they may receive this blessing-slash-curse, or they may not? But that our grandchildren, or our great-grandchildren might? That it was in my blood as surely as any of my other genes, that it was just an aspect of me that they’d have to hide from everyone they ever knew or cared about if they wanted to keep me safe?

They’d either try and have me committed or they’d running screaming in the other direction. When Mom had given me Dad’s letter about my heritage, I’d been so young I hadn’t even thought to ask how he broke the news to her. I just knew they’d met and fell in love. All the nitty gritty details? Who needed that? Now, though, I wished I’d asked. In detail. So much detail she got sick of giving me all the tiny minutiae that might guide me forward in my own life. By the time I’d thought to ask, of course, they were both long gone from this world.

I couldn’t lie; it was one of the many regrets I had with my mom’s passing. How could I have let her go without asking simple questions she’d probably had the answer to? The truth was, though, I’d been so hurt by her and my dad withholding my past from me, I’d shut her out. Why bother listening to any of her other advice when she’d lied to me about one of the single most important things?

I shook my head at my stupidity, nearly punching the wall again.

I went back to pacing, growling at myself for being such a fool about everything.

The other option, of course, was just to not tell Jessica. But what kind of life would that be? I’d always been able to empathize with people who were different because of my own secrets. Rather than a closet, I lived in a kennel. Luckily, I’d found a pack. But, no, I couldn’t just lie to her by omission. How could I? It would just be outright betrayal. Like my dad had done to me. I remembered how I’d felt when the truth had been revealed. Wouldn’t she feel the same?

I’d dated women in the past, of course. I wasn’t a celibate monk or anything, living in a monastery with other shifters just because of my heritage. But I’d never let it progress to the point where our lives became as intertwined as mine and her fingers had been earlier. I couldn’t tell her. Not until I was sure we were going to be together for a long time.

But, like Frank had told me earlier, she was my mate. She was The One, wasn’t she? If I couldn’t tell her, who else could I tell? Would I just have to stay in the kennel for the rest of my life, only free to be me when I was around my pack? Was I not allowed a woman unless she was a shifter as well?

No, I couldn’t believe that was my only option.

I had to tell her. I had to tell her soon, too, especially with how quickly these feelings were growing inside me. I’d rather nip them in the bud before they grew too strong, if she rejected me. I didn’t think I could handle building a life, in any sense of the word, with someone, only to have it ripped away as soon as I told them my secret.

I’d do it. As soon as this was over, I’d tell her I was a shifter. I’d even show her if she asked.

Away from prying eyes, of course. And definitely not with a cell phone nearby. Having a video of me, or my transformation, floating around would be decidedly bad.

And I didn’t care what Peter Frost, or any of the pack said about my decision, either. If they rejected my telling her, then I’d do the same thing the old man had when he met my mom. I’d just leave the company—leave the pack. If that was what it came down to, I’d do it.

I realized, then, that the apple apparently didn’t fall far from the tree between father and son.

“Happy, Dad?” I asked the ceiling. “Guess your son’s willing to follow in your footsteps after all.”

Fully clothed, I lay back on the bed but didn’t crawl beneath the covers. I wanted to stay frosty, and you can’t do that with your socks or shoes off, in my experience. So I lay back on the cushion, closed my eyes against the brightness of the overhead light fixture, and thought about my dad and all the things he’d never told me.

Sometimes I pictured him up there, watching down over me. Over us. Me, Peter, the whole crew. I hoped they had elk in heaven, or wherever shifters went. If we went anywhere at all. I’d like to imagine him bringing home a big elk steak for Mom to throw on the grill, or a tenderloin for her to pop in the oven every now and then. That way she could share in the bounty and he could taste it without being in his wolf form. As much as I loved the taste of the gamy meat fresh off a kill, there was still something to be said for salt and pepper and a good sear on both sides. Also, potatoes. I couldn’t imagine living without potatoes forever. It almost made me feel sorry for the wolves that couldn’t become human.

I drifted off after a little while, my mind bobbing along in the currents of slumber, coming in and going out as the night sounds of the forest surrounded us. I heard the critters moving in the underbrush around the cabin, the deer scratching their antlers on the trunks of the pine trees.

Somewhere, in the far, far distance, I even imagined that I heard a lone wolf calling out for its pack, a tearful cry as it searched for its companions and asked them to come join his hunt. Barely conscious, I smiled.

“You’ll find them, buddy,” I whispered to no one in particular as I rolled over onto my side. “You’ll find them.”