My heart felt heavy after our date. Everything in me hurt when I thought for too long about my exchange with Aubrey. She was right: I needed to talk to Gabriel about it. If that meant that this would end and he would go back to Odette, then at least I would have a clear conscience. We would both move on, and this would be nothing but a shameful memory. I'd been happy before, and my love for Jack hadn't gone anywhere. I could go back to the way things were.

It was the following evening, and we were on my couch together in silence. The snow was coming down hard and fast outside, the sound of the wind whistling through the forest made its way into the space and played in harmony with the crackling fire, the perfect white noise. Gabriel had pulled my feet into his lap and was absent-mindedly massaging my calves while he read.

Periodically, I lowered my book to peak over the top and drink him in. Despite looking more worn down than ever, he was still stunning. I loved the tiny frown he wore when he was concentrating on something, the way his lips sometimes moved silently to form the words as he scanned the page.

I was startled when Gabriel stood abruptly, dropping his book and my legs as he rose and left the room. I put my own book down and watched him go. At the far end of the hallway, the bathroom door slammed shut. Though he turned on the faucet, I could just faintly hear the sound of him retching. My heart wrenched; I couldn't put this off anymore. Not while watching him get sicker by the day. The conversation had to happen now, before he lapsed into another distant spell. I could already feel the tears welling in my eyes.

He knew immediately when he came back into the room, slightly paler than before but still composed, that I was struggling with something. He tried to divert my attention. "Can I get you anything while I'm up?"

"Gabriel," I drew in a steadying breath but it did little to calm my speeding pulse and churning stomach. "We need to talk."

"About?" He filled himself a glass of water and drank it down before leaning against the kitchen counter to watch me.

"Will you sit with me?" When he took back his spot in the corner of the couch, I turned and sat cross-legged, facing him. "You're not well."

"I'm fine," he groused. "You worry too much."

"You're not fine, Gabriel. You're sick." Another deep breath. "And I know why."

He stiffened. "Go on."

"This isn't right. You're not supposed to be with me." This was even harder than I thought it would be. Every fiber of my being was screaming at me to shut up with an intensity I'd never experienced before, as though all my nerves were firing off at once.

"Aren't I?" He glanced at me skeptically out of the corner of his eye.

I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut tightly. If I couldn't see his face, maybe this would be easier. "I know you said this wasn't a rebound, but I think it is. Even if you won't admit it. You're supposed to be with Odette."

"Kiera," his voice was softer now. I could tell he'd turned to face me, but I kept my eyes closed. "What are you talking about?"

"She's your mate, Gabriel. And I know you maybe can't feel it, but denying it is making you sick. You can't keep doing this to yourself. I won't let you." My nails dug deep half-moons into my thighs where I was gripping them tightly.

"You don't think I'd know whether someone was my mate?" He asked.

I was backed into a corner now; I had to admit it. My mouth was dry and my tongue would hardly cooperate enough to get the words out. "She told me that you were bound."

Silence. The sound of the wind and the fire felt deafening now. One minute passed, then another. I opened my eyes slowly but kept them down. Finally, he spoke.

"What do you know about the practice?"

"Not a lot," I admitted. "Aubrey said it's old magic, she was surprised that it's even still being done at all."

He raised an eyebrow when I said her name, then sighed. "She's right. It wasn't easy to find a practitioner willing to do it."

I waited for him to continue. The wheels in his head were turning as he pulled together his thoughts and tried to formulate an explanation. I could tell by the way the muscles in his jaw feathered that he wasn't eager to have this conversation, but I wasn't going to let him off the hook this time.

"During the early wars, it was common. Soldiers were bound so that they'd be more willing to leave their territories and remain strong on the battlefield, regardless of whether they had a mate waiting for them at home."

"It kept them from getting sick?"

"There are a lot of things that come from being apart from one's mate, none of them good," he clarified.

"Those days are long gone. Why would you choose that for yourself?" I paused, then added truthfully: "I'd give anything to feel that with someone."

He looked away sharply, his hand resting on the arm of the couch balling into a fist. The soft growl of his wolf that had begun moments before was growing louder, angrier. "Mating is a weakness."

His words cut through me, sharp and painful, biting into my gut harshly. Gabriel rose to his feet to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace. I was unable to respond; even if I wanted to, I couldn't find the words. His eyes were black, flashing as he fought for control over his wolf. I'd never seen him quite this agitated before, his body so tense his muscles seemed ready to snap like bowstring.

Pushing him now would only anger him further. He was grappling with what to say, or maybe how to say it. I could be patient.

The repetitive movement seemed to calm him somewhat, and after a while of this he spoke again.

"I told you I lost my parents."

I nodded. "When you were young, right?"

"My father was the Alpha before me. We'd left the Acadia Pack a while before and had just settled this territory, and we had a lot of challengers for it in those early years. We weren't prepared."

I chewed my lip, watching quietly as the ghosts of his past flickered in his eyes. The composure he wore like armor was slipping, his pain showing through.

"There were more roving packs in the area back then, looking to settle like we had. We were attacked one night; they came at us on two fronts. We didn't have enough soldiers. A group of them targeted our house. They took my mother and my father..." Gabriel cleared his throat. I stood and moved to block his path. I placed my hands gently on his arms. He was shaking.

"My father wasn't strong enough to let her go. He died trying to protect her and he left the rest of the pack vulnerable," he finished tersely.

I squeezed gently but he stepped back, pulling out of my grasp. "I'm so sorry."

"I swore I'd never be so weak. I wanted to eliminate distractions. My responsibility is to this pack."

"So you were bound," I said the words for him so he didn't have to. I closed the gap between us again and he let me, this time softening just slightly under my caress. He looked down at me. The darkness was receding from his eyes, wolf quieting in his chest. "You were so young."

"I don't regret my decision," he said. I wasn't sure if I believed him or not.

"I understand."

"Regardless of all of that," he took my face in his hands gently and rubbed one rough thumb back and forth over my cheekbone, sweeping away a few tears that had rolled down while he was telling his story. "This—what we're doing—is no mistake. I don't regret this, either."

I reached up to hold onto his wrists and leaned my head into his touch. That part I did believe: the proof was in the way he looked at me. The tenderness of his hold on me. The feeling in my chest of my heart swelling when he leaned down and captured my lips against his. Whatever he felt, or didn't feel, in that moment—it was arbitrary. He wanted this just as badly as I did. He was choosing me.

"But...what about Odette?" I drew back slightly and searched his eyes.

"What about Odette?"

I shrugged, the insecurity I'd felt moments before slowly fading under his gaze. "She paints."

Gabriel chuckled, the low laugh rumbling in his chest, then whispered against my lips: "I've never liked art."