Chapter 20
“Shan,” Beth said as they were toasting marshmallows that evening. “Did you and Leonie have a fight?”
He’d been afraid that the campers would notice things had changed between their counselors. It hardly required a great feat of observation to notice that Leonie was now avoiding him.
Beth was looking at him, her face pinched with worry.
Tiff and Estelle had stopped chattering with each other, clearly more interested in his own conversation.
Spencer, Ignatius, and Finley had already finished their s’mores and gone off to look at planets through the camp’s telescope, but Rufus was still present.
Unfortunately. He’d have to be careful what he said.
“No, we did not have a fight,” he said to Beth. Aware of Rufus’s listening silence, he added, “But…I hurt her feelings.”
He’d seen her reaction when he’d rejected her. The way she’d stopped, all the bright hope in her eyes shattering into humiliation. She’d done her best to conceal it, but she couldn’t hide the truth. Not from him.
She’d always been so honest, so open. So brave, reaching out to others without hesitation, offering whatever she could give. There were no walls around her heart.
Why shouldn’t we enjoy a temporary summer fling, if that’s what we both want?
Because I do not.
If he could have tasted his own words, they would have been sweet as arsenic. They should have burned in his mouth, shriveling his tongue.
“My dad says that everyone makes mistakes sometimes,” Beth said earnestly. “Just say you’re sorry, and you didn’t mean it.”
“But I did.” He rotated his stick, watching the marshmallow at the end blacken. “I knew exactly what I was saying. And how she would take it.”
He couldn’t even blame his animal. He was the one who’d said those terrible words, knowing how she would misinterpret them. He was the one who’d hurt her. Just him.
His monster had been furious.
At least that had solved another problem. Even if it had introduced another one.
He tugged his sleeve down, making sure none of his wrist was exposed above his glove. He no longer had to worry about Leonie wondering what had happened to his claws, but he didn’t want the kids asking why he now had tiger stripes from wrist to elbow, stark against his skin.
From the glances the girls exchanged, they were all rather thrown by this admission of guilt. Rufus continued constructing a s’more, apparently oblivious to the conversation.
Estelle rallied first. “Well, are you sorry now?”
His marshmallow was on fire. Rather than try to rescue it, he tossed the whole stick into the flames. “Yes. Though I think I should not be.”
“Even if you don’t think you did anything wrong, you should still apologize for hurting her feelings,” Beth said. “Leonie’s a kind person. I’m sure she’ll forgive you.”
Estelle perked up. “Looks like we can find out right now. Hi, Leonie!”
His heart lurched. He wasn’t sure if it was with dread, or joy. Even now, just being in her presence felt like a gift.
“I was not expecting to see you this evening,” he said to her. “Is everything all right?”
“I came back early.” Leonie took a seat next to Rufus, picking up a toasting stick. “I was talking with the girls, and it got me thinking. There’s something I need to ask you.”
“That’s great, because Shan has something he wants to say to you, too.” Estelle elbowed him in the side. “Don’t you, Shan?”
“Me first.” Leonie impaled a marshmallow, not looking at him. “Shan, have you ever met your mate?”
The world dropped out from underneath him.
“Huh?” Tiff said. “Why’d you ask that?”
“Just realized it would explain a lot.” Leonie stuck her marshmallow into the flames. “Well, Shan?”
His mouth had gone utterly dry. He swallowed, doing his best to match Leonie’s casual tone. “I am not mated.”
“I know.” She still hadn’t looked at him. “And that’s not what I asked.”
Estelle and Beth were both open mouthed, staring at him like owls. Tiff just looked confused. Rufus had his head bent, carefully sandwiching a marshmallow between two graham crackers, but his golden eyes gleamed through his thick hair.
Perhaps he could have evaded the question, even with Rufus present. The boy had known his secret all along, after all, and had never told Leonie. Maybe he still could have lied.
But that would be one step closer to embracing the monster. To becoming his father.
“Yes,” he said.
“You have?” Tiff exclaimed. “How come you never said?”
The answer to that was filled with hunger and shame. He went for the tamest, most child-appropriate version of the truth. “I thought it best to keep it to myself.”
“Well, you’ve got to spill the tea now,” Estelle said slyly. “What’s she like?”
The fire crackled and spat. He didn’t dare glance at Leonie.
“Strong,” he said at last. “Selfless. Too much so sometimes, I think. The sort of person who would sacrifice everything for the sake of someone they loved, without being asked. Even if that person did not want them to.”
“Hmm,” said Leonie. He couldn’t interpret her tone at all. “It seems to me that you’re very much alike, then.”
Tiff tugged at his sleeve. “But Shan, if you’ve met your fated mate, how come you’re not together? Haven’t you told her she’s your mate?”
“I don’t have to,” he said softly. “She already knows.”
“Well, I think you should tell her how you really feel about her,” Beth announced. “Don’t you, Leonie?”
Whatever reply Leonie might have made was lost in the clanging of the camp bell. All around the central area, counselors started gathering their campers, herding them toward the cabins.
“Bedtime, kids,” Leonie announced. She set her marshmallow aside. “Go and brush your teeth. We’ll be along to supervise shortly. I need to have a word with Shan first.”
The kids reluctantly departed, though not without many backward glances. Rufus was the last to leave. He gave them both a long, thoughtful look before padding silently away.
“Leonie,” he started.
She held up a hand, cutting him off. He could only stand there, unspoken explanations and excuses choking his throat, as the central area slowly emptied.
Finally, they were alone. Leonie turned to face him at last. She met his eyes, and the words died in his mouth.
“You had your chance to speak, Shan,” she said quietly. “It’s my turn, I think.”
In the dying firelight, her eyes were clear and hard as amber. His own were still hidden, but there was no hiding now. All he could do was nod, and wait for her judgement.
“I know you’re afraid of your animal.” There was no accusation in her voice, but no warmth, either.
“You must have experienced something terrible to make you so certain you have to bury half your own soul. For all I know, you may be right. Maybe it is a monster. Maybe you are doomed to slowly lose the appearance of humanity. Maybe the best thing you can do for your mate is to leave her to live her own life, free of all your complications. But that is not your choice to make.”
She kept her tone low, but her words rocked him back on his heels. Sweet, so sweet. He couldn’t deny the truth of them. Not anymore.
Leonie took a deep breath and let it out again. “At least, not alone. I know you mean well, Shan. But you cannot make someone else’s choices for them. Not out of fear, or because you think you know what’s best. Not even out of love.”
He swallowed. “Leonie, I—”
“You say your mate already knows,” she interrupted. She put her hand on his arm, her gaze clear and steady. “I think you should tell her the truth anyway. All of it. And if you can’t take even that small step toward trusting both yourself and her, then you’re right. She is better off without you.”
Her words were not sweet. He knew that taste. Had dreamed of it, longed for it, deep in the darkest parts of his soul. Had hoped to never taste it again.
Truth. Raw and bleeding.
Leonie released him, stepping away. “I have to put the girls to bed. After that, I’ll be in my cabin. If you have anything to say, you know where to find me.”
He put the boys to bed, the small rituals of toothbrushes and pajamas a familiar routine by now.
He left the cabin, switching off the light.
He walked the length of the camp, and back again, passing by laughing groups of off-duty counselors as silently as a ghost. Over and over, until the moon was high, and all was still.
He walked.
He stopped.
He knocked.
“Shan!” Zephyr looked distinctly startled to find Shan standing on his doorstep. The director rubbed his eyes, as if he’d been asleep, and still thought he might be dreaming. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”
“My apologies for disturbing you at home.” It was hard to hear his own voice through the roar of HUNGER and HUNT and NO. Behind his back, his claws bit into his own palms. “But I needed to inform you without delay. Tomorrow morning, I am leaving the camp.”