I stared at him as hard as I could – as if it would tell me what he was going on about. We were standing outside at night, in the middle of a forest, and he was only half-dressed. Polite wasn't a word I would've used for any of this.

"You don't have to be polite with me", I answered plainly. "Tell me what you think and then I'll tell you what I think about that."

His shoulders lost none of their built-up tension. He was standing as still as the trees around us but I got the impression that he was waiting for a chance to escape this situation.

"Fine."

"You'll do it? You'll change again?"

"Yes. You've got to promise me something in return though", he said quietly. "I need you to keep quiet about this meeting. And even if you don't like it, I want you to stay away from me from now on."

"That, I– you live with my sister." Suddenly it felt very convenient to bring Cara into this discussion. "How can I stay away when she expects me to visit?"

There was no smile, no excuses, no nothing. He just shook his head and said: "You can visit her. Just don't approach me and don't call out when you see me pass by. I'll make sure we don't meet."

The words cut deeper than I wanted to admit. I'd thought we were getting along fine, him and the wolves and me. But he was going to such lengths to avoid my company; what else was there to do than agree to his terms?

At least I was getting something out of the deal.

"But, wait. It needs to be worth it." I paused for a second, trying to phrase my want in a way that wouldn't be creepier than necessary. "I want to feel when you change."

The astonished look in his eyes gave away that he couldn't understand the first thing about my excitement.

How should he, I told myself, when this was normal to him?

With restraint, I forced myself to approach him slowly, like I was trying to pet a mistrusting stray cat. But the cat was no cat at all; in fact, it was a tiger.

I swallowed as he made a step forward as well, closing the remaining distance between us. He was built strong, with broad shoulders and a chiseled chest, but he was barely taller than me. Vine's eyes, a smokey green in the darkness, were level with mine as we stood together.

Up close, I could see the skin of his scar shimmer in the tiny amount of light the moon sent down to us. Instinctively, my hand moved to touch it but before I could come anywhere near it, he'd caught my wrist.

"That's not a good idea."

I would've complained about him not keeping his end of the deal, but my brain cells were in a stupor. I knew how it felt to be touched but the feeling had never been this crisp. I could've sworn that I knew every line on his palms through his grip, every callous he'd gotten himself.

It was absolutely moronic.

I didn't notice the seconds flying by and turning into minutes, but Vine eventually let go of my wrist. His fingers stretched at his side, as if he was trying to forget the feel.

Come on, I can't be that disgusting.

"Change." The word barely escaped my dry mouth as I placed my hand on his warm chest.

"You promise?"

The desperation seeped out of his voice, sending little pangs of hurt through my body. I might've behaved a little oddly from his point of view, but nothing I'd done justified this degree of rejection.

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