Bowman’s insides roiled. He sat on the edge of the bed as his legs went weak.
“What are you saying, Kenzie?” He made himself get the thought out. “You feel a mate bond? With someone else?”
“I don’t know.” Her words were hoarse, her tears clogging her voice. “I want it to be with you. I don’t want it with anyone else.”
Bowman’s hands clenched so hard his nails creased his flesh. “Gil was here. Is it him?”
Kenzie was silent except for her quiet crying. Tears streamed from her eyes, her face twisted in sorrow.
Gil. Bowman would kill the fucker. He was a dead shithead walking.
“Not his fault,” Kenzie choked out. “He doesn’t understand.”
“He understands a hell of a lot more than he lets on. Why’d he come here tonight? To tell you he felt a mate bond with you?”
“To leave information on Serena and the monster.” Kenzie’s voice shook, then dropped to a whisper. “And to ask me about the mate bond.”
Bowman let out his breath. Son of a bitch. Gil had come here to find out what he was feeling inside, to have Kenzie explain it to him, and Kenzie realized . . .
Bowman wanted to fold up into a little ball and never come out. At the same time, he wanted to howl his misery.
Kenzie and Ryan were the joys of his life, the constants that kept him from saying screw this shit, pulling off his Collar, and running away into the wilds again. He’d become leader young, having to be convinced to take up the mantle of leadership by lesser members of his pack. Bowman had preferred tearing through the woods as wolf to going to pack meetings.
He’d never really settled down, and he’d nearly gone insane when they’d first put a Collar on him. He’d have preferred to kill Cristian in a battle to the death over Shiftertown, but Bowman had known that if he gave in to that impulse, all the other Shifters would have been rounded up and punished for his deed.
The better solution had been to storm to Afina’s house, grab hold of Kenzie, and convince her to become his mate. He’d never regretted the choice, and Kenzie hadn’t either.
Kenzie grounded him. Her touch, her kiss, her scent, made everything bad go away. The wild animal in him calmed with Kenzie, allowing him to think, to feel things besides ferocity and frustration.
Now, because of some stupid instinct they couldn’t control, he could lose her.
“No.” Bowman got to his knees on the bed, cupping Kenzie’s face in his hands. Her tears tracked over his thumbs. “I won’t let you go to him. I can’t. I need you.”
Kenzie tried to answer, but she gulped on sobs instead. She shook her head.
Panic welled up inside him. “I can’t do this alone, Kenz. I’ll keep you with me, I swear it, even if I have to chain you to the bed.”
Kenzie managed a watery smile. “Please do.”
A sound of anguish came from Bowman’s throat. He caught her in his arms and buried his face in her neck, his body shuddering.
He wanted to go on arguing, to plead with her, to command her, but he had no words left. He was shaking all over, his face wet. Dimly he felt her hands in his hair, soothing, but Bowman would never be soothed again.
“What are we going to do?” Kenzie whispered.
“I don’t know.” There was no solution to this, no precedent. He’d never known anyone in his hundred and fifty years of life who’d successfully fought the mate bond. No one had ever tried to fight it—no one had ever wanted to.
No one except Kenzie. That must mean something, Bowman thought. But he was afraid to hope, because he knew how devastated he’d be if even that little hope was dashed.
* * *
They ended up sleeping curled together on top of the bed. Kenzie woke with her nose in Bowman’s warm chest, his sweatshirt soft against her skin.
The morning had advanced, sunlight trickling through the windows. Kenzie was sore, from both the crazy lovemaking in the woods and lying on the bed tucked against Bowman.
She tried to unfold herself, to slip out without waking him, but when she raised her head, it was to see Bowman’s gray eyes looking into hers.
They gazed at each other for a long time, neither speaking. Kenzie had hoped that with their waking, the bond she’d felt inside her would have faded, would have been a mistake. Heartburn, she’d told Gil. They’d feasted on barbecued ribs after the sun ceremony yesterday—could have been the food.
As she studied Bowman, though, she felt it, unmistakably warm, waiting to flood her with happiness. Bowman must have read that in her eyes, because pain rose in his.
Kenzie felt tears coming again. Bowman shook his head. He gently kissed the top of her head and got himself off the bed, coming to his feet. He folded his arms as he looked down at her, shutting himself off.
“If you have to go to him, Kenzie, don’t say good-bye. Just go.”
“I don’t want to leave,” Kenzie answered, her voice weak.
“You might not have a choice. But Ryan stays with me.”