He held very still. “With you?”
“To Denver. Not right away. After… after I’ve had time to make Niall understand, when he has overcome his anger.”
She did not elaborate. She didn’t have to. He saw what she meant in those few words, and terror clawed its way up from his belly to fill his mouth and his brain.
“Come with you?” he said in a mocking echo. “Join you in your cage? Live in your fine house and wear your fine clothes and become a lapdog for your ladies?”
“Isn’t it what you asked me to do… give up everything?” She didn’t look at him. He was cold, bitterly cold, though the winter wind should not have affected him at all. Athena was sucking all the heat from his body, all the tenuous hopes from his heart, all the foolish dreams from the future he had never considered.
Just like before. Just as it always was and would ever be.
He backed toward the window. “I ask you for nothing,” he said. “I want nothing from you, or anyone.”
She made no attempt to stop him as he reached the window and gathered his muscles to jump. The eagerness of his body had drowned in sorrow and rage and bewilderment; he could look at her and see a stranger, an enemy, and not the woman he had asked to become the mate of his life.
Let her look at him, one last time. Let her know what she had rejected. Let her feel what he felt.
“Go,” he said. “Go with your brother. Cripple yourself again, and pray that all your fine things will make you forget what you have thrown away.”
Her eyes met his, moist and expressionless. He leaped up and back, balanced on the sill, and let himself fall from the window.
Snow cushioned his landing, but he welcomed the jarring blow that rattled his bones and shook the despair loose from his head. Barely pausing, he Changed and began to run as hard and as fast as he could, away from the room and the ranch and Athena.
It was a strange thing, that he returned. He dragged himself back to the barn to dress just before dawn, aware that the snow had started again and boded a storm for the day ahead. A storm that might trap anyone—any human—who desired to leave the mountains.
A wolf could leave any time. That was what kept Morgan circling the house like a whipped cur, until Harry stepped out one of the side doors shortly after sunrise and blew a puff of pipe smoke into the expectant air.
Harry was looking for something. Someone. Morgan knew what he hoped to see, and what the others must think. He would make sure they knew how wrong they were.
Morgan Changed in the barn, pulled on his clothes and stalked up to the porch. Harry started slightly when he saw Morgan, and then his shoulders fell.
“It looks like snow,” he remarked as Morgan joined him. “Bad weather. I feel it in my bones.”
“A storm.” Morgan willed the hair to lie flat against his neck. “You don’t have to worry. You are safe here.”
“Are we staying?”
“Athena would not let Munroe drive you out,” he said bitterly. “She cares too much about… helping.”
Harry glanced at him. “Morgan, I am sorry. I wish I could have done something to intervene. We all do. We’ve known… almost from the beginning how the girl felt about you, and you her.” He coughed behind his hand. “I’m a meddling old fool. I made her come here, with my letters, when I should have stayed out of your business. But all we want… all I want, is your happiness. Yours and Athena’s.” He blinked several times. “I know you well enough—I presume to know—that what you want to do now is run off. Permanently. But—”
He took a long breath and faced Morgan. “I ask you to trust me, Morgan. Trust me, as you would your own kin. You’re like a son to me, even though… though I’m a poor excuse for a father. Even so, as a father I advise you to wait. Be patient. Stay a little longer. Whatever obstacles may stand before you now, they can be overcome.”