Quinn felt frozen in place as Luke left her bedroom. He’d confessed his love, and it wasn’t a possessive love, the kind that Romeo and Juliet died for, it was the kind of love that wanted what was best for her, even if it meant he didn’t get to marry her. It was a grown-up love, and Quinn had never felt so completely alone in her grief. Not even her father’s death touched the sadness she experienced when Luke walked away. This was a man who spent his lifetime putting other people’s needs before his own. Quinn didn’t want that for him. She wished there was a place in her life, not just her heart, for Luke Dashwood.

She balled her fists and punched the mattress on either side of her legs. “Damn it!”

If Luke could be an adult, than so could she. Quinn got out of bed and went into her bathroom. She scrubbed the wound on her arm, bandaged it, and ran a brush through her hair. The setting spray Carly had used had actually managed to tame her curls a little.

She hoped the bruise on the side of her face would fade soon. It looked dark on her light brown complexion, more like a nevus flammeus, or what most people called a port-whine stain than a bruise. She’d smacked the wardrobe with her head harder than she’d thought, which is probably why she’d felt light-headed after her adrenaline waned. Luckily, concussions didn’t have the same kind of consequences for shifters as they did for humans. She would be fine in a few hours.

Just in time to pick between a bad option and worse option, she thought sourly.

She applied a layer of foundation that the makeup artist left behind, and was surprised at how well it covered the discoloration. “Hmm, like it never happened.” Only her temple throbbed beneath the mask of coverage.

She pressed her palm against her own cheek and closed her eyes, allowing herself one last fantasy. Luke caressed her cheek, his thick beard tickling her neck as his lips brushed feather-light kisses over her skin. His hands palm her breast, gently squeezing her nipples until they are rigid little buds. Then he reaches down, his fingers finding her wet and waiting for his strokes of pleasure.

“Oh, God,” she sighed. Opening her eyes, the fantasy broke. She was alone. And no matter which bear she picked tonight, she would always be alone. Because Luke was her mate.

She remembered Gerri Wilder saying, You just let me worry about finding the perfect mate. I think I know just the man for you. Maybe a guy would show up tonight that would make Quinn forget all about the forbidden wolf.

Like that could ever happen.

“God, sis, why are you torturing yourself?” Monica asked.

Quinn knocked her hairbrush from the sink. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Obviously.” She picked the brush up from the ground and started detangling Quinn’s hair. It was something Monica had loved to do since she was old enough to comb her older sister’s hair. “Why don’t you just choose Luke? He’s into you bad. Any fool could see it.”

“You calling me a fool?”

“Worse, if you don’t know.” Monica began separating the curls. “And from the smell of you, you feel the same way.”

Being around other shifters sucked toenails. She’d been so used to living and working in a human environment that she often forgot that every were-creature around could scent strong emotions. On the one hand, it made it hard for folks to be duplicitous, but on the other hand…no privacy.

“I don’t want to talk about Luke.”

“You mean, Luke, Luke, Oh, God, Luke?” Monica smiled. “Why not? It seems like he knows just what buttons to push.”

“I can’t be with him, Mon. You have to trust me on this.”

“For the love of Artio, why not?” Her sister began to systematically pull up each curl, wind it and pin it. “He’s a bear, you’re a bear, and I’ve seen his aggression, he’s certainly alpha enough.”

Quinn was reminded of the biblical quote: Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves. Only Luke was not a false prophet, he’d been honest with Quinn, or at least he’d tried to be, and he was not the ravening wolf of Aesop’s fable. He wasn’t trying to lead this little lamb away from her flock so he could eat her…though. She smiled.

“Great goddess,” Monica whispered. “That must have been a good thought. You hormones are thick enough to choke a bear.” She laughed at her own little joke.

Quinn didn’t join in. “It’s impossible between us.” She didn’t want to give away Luke’s secret. He would be forced to leave before tonight’s events. Then again, maybe it would be kinder to him if he wasn’t there to watch. She decided a hint wouldn’t hurt. “He can’t accept a challenge from Trey.” There that was vague enough that she wasn’t giving it away.

“Why not? Do you think he’d lose? Oh, heavens, Quinn, is that what you’re afraid of? Do you think whoever you pick will lose to that jackhole?”

“How’s Brandon doing?” Quinn asked. If anything could get her sister off the subject of Trey and Luke, it was Brandon.

“Fine.” Monica’s short answer got Quinn’s attention.

“Did something happen?”

“He’d like to speak to you.”

“Who?”

“Brandon.” Monica finished pinning up the last of the curls. Quinn’s hair looked regal, yet still feminine.

“How do you manage to do that so well?”

Monica gave her a tight smile. “Practice.”

“I’ll go talk to Brandon.” She turned to her sister and placed both palms on either side of Monica’s rounded cheeks. “I would never make a choice that would hurt you. I will always protect you.”

Monica’s eyes widened, unshed tears glittered along her lower lid. “I believe you, Quinn. Has something happened?”

“No.” Other than the same crap she’d been dealing with daily. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s just…you’ve changed. I can see it.”

Quinn let her sister’s face go and gave herself one last check in the mirror. She couldn’t see what Monica meant, so she shrugged, and said, “It’s called getting old.”

After Monica had left, Quinn picked up her phone and texted Luke.

I wish things were different. I wish it didn’t matter. Your heart calls to my heart. It doesn’t matter if your heart is wolf and mine is a bear. Only it does matter. If you really care, you’ll stay away tonight.

Quinn set her phone back down and steeled herself for her conversation with Brandon.