Odette was alone the following morning when I arrived for work, and again both times I left the medical room to get tea and refresh Ephraim's mug of coffee in the kitchen. She wasn't as animated as she usually seemed, nor was she particularly talkative. Even her style was subdued: she wore a simple, dark sweater and her hair was tied back into a low ponytail. Instead of cleaning, or cooking, or otherwise moving around, she was curled up with a book in her lap. Her fingers idly wrapped themselves in the knit blanket draped across the arm of the chair. I hadn't heard a page turn once; I was almost certain she'd made no progress on the book all morning.

"Kiera, isn't it?" She stopped me on my way to the fridge where I'd put my lunch.

I turned back to her and offered a polite smile. "That's right."

"Will you have lunch with me? I don't really have any friends here. I could use one." She sounded so hesitant as she asked, so unlike the confident woman that had breezed into the kitchen unannounced. I didn't want to say yes, but I knew the feeling of isolation too well. So I bit my tongue and nodded, and her eager grin made me feel just slightly better about my decision.

Odette drove us into town and I sent Aubrey a text to meet us at the diner. Whatever Odette had to say about Gabriel, I didn't want to hear it alone. And if I was unable to keep up my side of the conversation, there was no doubt Aubrey would carry it just fine on her own. She'd been itching for me to tell her what it was like being around the two of them every day, and now she had a chance to hear about it straight from the source.

The three of us sat together in a booth tucked into the back corner of the small diner. It was one of the few places in town that hadn't been updated to fit Castle wolves, and I loved it for that reason. It was retro and cozy, and the cracked vinyl on the seats and defunct jukeboxes on every table only added to its charm.

Odette picked at her fries; she'd hardly touched her meal. While Aubrey chattered about the clinic, she stared out the window blankly at the low grey clouds. It would be snowing within the hour.

"Is everything alright?" I finally worked up the nerve to interrupt her reverie. "You seem down."

She lowered her eyes to her plate. "I thought this would be easier."

"Thought what would be easier?" Aubrey turned sideways on the bench to face Odette, curling one leg up onto the seat.

"Mating, I guess. I'd always heard it would come naturally, but I feel like I'm working so hard." Odette looked first at Aubrey, then at me. "What was it like for you?"

"I can't mate. But I have a partner who I love." I wanted to find something reassuring to say, but even what I had with Jack, though not a mate bond, had come as naturally as breathing.

"It shouldn't be a challenge. Afterwards, sure, when you're learning to live a life together. But in the beginning, it's like..." Aubrey frowned, searching for the right words. "Lightning. Fast and sharp and out of nowhere. It should take your breath away. It should take his, too."

"Oh." Odette again looked between us. "You don't know, do you?"

"Know what?" Aubrey asked.

"Gabriel, he...he was bound."

Aubrey sat back then, a quick breath leaving her lungs in a shock of air. "I thought that was just a rumor."

Odette shook her head, pulling apart a napkin on the table in front of her and worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Bound? I didn't understand the term, nor Aubrey's reaction to it, and I said as much.

"It's a ritual," Aubrey explained while Odette turned her attention once more to the clouds. "It binds your wolf from linking to a mate. It's an old practice, old magic. I had no idea it was still around."

The weight of her words hit me like an avalanche. Bound. Gabriel would never know a mate. Like me, he'd never feel the power of such a deep, primal bond with another. I had by now accepted that fate for myself, but to willingly choose it? Maybe the stories of his heartlessness were true, after all.

When Odette looked back at us, her eyes shone with tears that she could no longer hold back. "I can feel it, even if he can't. I can feel it enough for the both of us. That matters, right?"

Aubrey put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but neither of us knew what to say. It could be enough, if Gabriel could love her in the simple way that Jack and I loved each other. He might not ever feel as strongly as she did about him, but at least it was something. My heart ached for her, but it hurt for Gabriel too. A quiet voice in the back of my mind whispered that maybe it hurt for me as well.

Odette dropped me back off at the house without going inside. She was worn down, emotionally drained, and it showed plain as day on her face. She didn't want to spend what remained of the afternoon hoping that Gabriel would emerge from his office.

I tried to put myself on autopilot for the rest of the day. The reality of Gabriel's choice wasn't something that I wanted to get stuck in my head over. Further, it wasn't anything I had the right to concern myself with. The way he governed himself and the choices he made in his own life had nothing to do with mine, and that was something I needed to remind myself of more frequently.

It was more important to spend time on the things I could control, like my work, and the time and attention I gave to learning what I could about my future patients.

A soft knock on the guesthouse door that night startled me as I was getting ready for bed. After quickly spitting a mouthful of toothpaste in the sink and wiping my face, I went to answer it. I expected Odette, or maybe Aubrey coming for a debrief of our conversation in private. Instead, it was Gabriel leaning against the doorframe. He wore a pained look on his face, pronounced lines between his eyebrows where his frown pushed them together.

"Gabriel?" Freezing night air swirled in through the doorway and I pulled my sweater tighter around me. "What's going on?"

"Headache." He wouldn't look me in the eye.

"Another?" He didn't answer. At the gathering he said that he'd been getting them more and more, but this was the first he'd mentioned to me since that night. Once we got back, I felt sure he'd go straight to Ephraim if it happened again.

"Can you help or not?"

"I think maybe you should call Ephraim." My mind went back to that night and I knew my voice didn't sound convincing to either of us.

Gabriel shook his head tightly. "Tomorrow. I just need you to do that thing you did the last time."

"The pressure points?" He nodded and I stepped to the side for him to pass. If he was convinced it was what he needed, who was I to argue? "Yeah, okay. Come in."

Once I moved the blankets out of the way on the couch, he fell onto it heavily. I put an extra throw pillow against the arm. "Lie down."

"No."

"We're not doing this back-and-forth again. You came to me, remember? Lie back." I put one hand on his shoulder and pushed gently. He tipped back and stiffly lifted his legs up onto the couch. He was too tall for it; his feet hung off the far end. I sat on the edge beside him, his body so tense he was very nearly vibrating.

I leaned in close. Taking his head in my hands, I lined my thumbs up on his temples as I had before and began to move them in small circles.

He growled, the harsh sound emanating from deep in his chest. "It's not working."

"You're not letting it," I retorted. "Shut your eyes. Take deep breaths."

He glared at me angrily for a second longer before closing his eyes. I went back to circling his temples and he finally drew a deep, shuddering breath through his nose.

"That's better," I said softly. "You're alright."

Neither of us spoke. It was easy to lose track of time there with him, and I could feel myself relaxing as he did. His heady scent mingled with the smell of the burning logs on the hearth as they crumbled to embers, stealing the light. The lamp was too far to reach without leaving his side, so I continued on in near darkness. Gabriel uncrossed his arms from his chest and rested them on the couch, the nearest one against my thigh. This was the closeness I'd craved since the night at the gathering, the vulnerability I knew he kept hidden beneath his hardened exterior. Like this, he was no longer the fierce predator I feared, yet he drew me in all the same.

"Thank you." His words were almost a whisper but he made no move to get up. Afraid to disturb him, I kept on until I was sure he was asleep before I pulled my hands away and gently draped a blanket over his legs despite the heat his body radiated.