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nAs Sasha walked away from the creatures toward the line of torches, she silently gave herself all the reasons why there was no reason to be upset: It happened to everyone. Norm had even commented that all species went through this. It was really common.

nShe wouldn’t even have known if these creatures didn’t have such a crazy sense of smell.

nHow could she grieve the loss of something she never knew she had?

nBut as they stepped outside the ring of torches, Sasha’s sight began to blur—not good when it was so dark and she could already barely see anything.

n”Sash—” Zev’s voice was low and broken. Sasha shook her head and sent him thoughts.

nI don’t want to talk about this where anyone else can hear it, at all. Ever. If you ever talk to me about this, Zev, for the rest of our lives, you do it this way. This doesn’t involve anyone else. Just us.

nOkay, Zev replied.

nIt was the most uncertain she’d ever heard him and she hated herself for putting pressure on him when he was obviously wanting to connect.

nShe swallowed. Does it… hurt for you?

nZev blew out a breath. It makes me… I don’t know what to feel, Sash. It doesn’t seem real. Does it feel real to you?

nShe wasn’t sure, that was the truth. She just knew those words, when Norm said them, sent a blade sliding through her ribs and into her heart and now it felt like she was bleeding and she couldn’t catch it, couldn’t stop it.

nAn unseen wound that might heal quickly, or might burst the dam.

nShe’d almost been a mother.

nThe thought was so shattering her eyes welled and she didn’t see where she was going. Her foot slid off a round river-rock and she was going down, but Zev was there, catching her at the elbow and waist, pulling her back onto her feet, but keeping her still, holding her, and she was crying. And it was so stupid. She shouldn’t be crying. She hadn’t even known!

n”I’m sorry,” she breathed.

n”Don’t apologize.” Zev sounded anxious. He pulled her tighter against him.

nA moment later a wave of grief washed over her, and she wished they didn’t have a walk ahead of them. Wished they were in the cave—but she didn’t want to ruin Yhet’s cave with this kind of feeling. That was the happy place.

nIt all made her so angry!

nShe straightened, wiping her eyes, and taking deep breaths to get herself under control.

nNothing had changed. Absolutely nothing. She’d had a pregnancy—an almost pregnancy. She wouldn’t even have known. They could try again—they were going to try again.

n”Sash, what’s… what are you thinking?” he whispered, and she looked up at him, blinking back tears.

n”I just wish everything was different,” she admitted. “I want to go back to the cave. Can we go back now?”

nHe nodded sadly, then knelt in front of her to help her onto his back. But just as she was about to jump on, he put a hand up. “Why don’t I shift. You can ride me. It’ll be faster. Do you feel safe doing that?”

n”I just want to get back there. Can we still talk in our heads when you’re in your wolf?”

n”Yes, it’s actually easier.”

nSasha nodded, and Zev shifted, then she crawled onto his back, leaning her face right down into his thick ruff and letting his coat absorb the tears that still insisted on leaking out from under her lashes.

nThen he was running and she clung to his thick fur.

n*****

n~ ZEV ~

nZev’s body burned with rage. Shifting into his beast and running was the right way to burn that off—otherwise he’d give in, drop Sasha at the cave, and run back to the village to kill Nick for putting her through this.

nHe couldn’t do that. He knew he couldn’t. It would only backfire. But he growled as he ran. He wanted to taste their blood, to make them pay for this cluster-**.

nThen Sasha’s voice bloomed in his head, and he tried to force himself to focus on her as he galloped over the river rocks, keeping his gait as even and smooth as he could.

nSo, does this mean the team knew and they just didn’t tell me? Or did they learn it when they did their tests?

nI don’t know, babe. But knowing them… if they didn’t know when you arrived, they learned about it.

nThat must be why they didn’t tell Nick, right? When the results first came back from the first pregnancy test they didn’t tell him what it was, and he said that was weird.

nJust be careful taking anything Nick says on face value, Zev growled in her head.

nI know, I know, Sasha sighed. I just… I can’t believe they didn’t tell me. But maybe they thought they were being kind?

nZev huffed in her head and underneath her, he picked up his pace.

nNick and Nathan and the others are many things, Sash, but kindness just doesn’t even come into it. They chose not to tell you for whatever reasons they had. Maybe they thought it would upset you too much. Or maybe they just didn’t care. Maybe they wanted to use it against us later. Who knows? You just can’t know with them.

nThe thoughts were making his anger rise, a tide of heat and rage that was dangerous, he knew. He had to find a way to calm.

nBut every question she asked about what the team must have known, his anger burned higher. Because even if he didn’t know when they knew, or why they chose not to tell her… he did know one, terrifying, awful thing.

nHe couldn’t even let himself think it. Couldn’t let himself examine what he suspected. Because if they’d been involved in ending her pregnancy—

nNo. No, they wouldn’t do that. They wanted his offspring. Had wanted it from the beginning. Sasha had to be right. They got to her too late to help it. That had to be it.

nBut as he tore down the valley, then up the ravine and the trail to the cave, Zev vowed to find Nick the following day and get the truth out of him.

nBecause Sasha didn’t know the right questions to ask. And he didn’t want to upset her if he was wrong.

nBut he also wasn’t certain he could read Nick well enough to tell if he was lying…

nThis whole thing was just a **ing mess. And as always, it all lay right at the feet of Nick and the Team.

nIt always came back to that.

nZev snarled.

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