Epiphany

GAHRYE

He stood there, holding her balanced on the table, their noses almost touching, staring at her wide, green-brown eyes, and it smacked him like a hammer, right between the eyes.

He was hurting her. Telling her no, tearing himself away, making himself less… it was hurting her? He'd thought he was doing the right thing, protecting them both from the greater hurt of having to say no after the mating bond snapped into place, but… He was hurting her.

He wanted to weep. No matter which way he turned, no matter which decision he made, they would both be hurt and—he started to pull away, but she dug her nails in and wouldn't let him go.

"No! No, Gahrye, don't do that. Don't run. You have to stop running!" she whispered urgently.

He froze in her gaze—fierce light, warm love, and a stubborn insistence that she was going to make him see it her way this time.

Gahrye swallowed.