Inked

I?”
    “I’d just heard that one of my oldest friends was dead. Excuse me for not thinking things through.”
    “We’ve been up since four a.m. today. We’ve discussed the case, the circumstances under which I can investigate—the restrictions I’m under.” Croft had told her to avoid calling on other FBI agents unless she could confirm that gado was involved. “You never mentioned the possibility it was wolfbane, not gado, that let someone tattoo Hilliard.”
    “Steve,” he said coldly. “His name was Steve.”
    She breathed in slowly, choking back her own temper. He was on edge. Grief did that. So did the claustrophobia he didn’t like to admit to.
    She couldn’t do much about his grief, but the other…Lily took his hand. That was the one thing that helped, other than moving around. The mate bond brought comfort when they touched—even when she was mad at him. “This matters, Rule,” she said quietly. “If you tricked me into investigating, misusing my authority—”
    “No. Maybe. God.” His fingers tightened on hers. For a moment he sat in silence, no doubt putting a lid on his own temper—which, unlike hers, ran cold more often than hot. “I didn’t intentionally misguide you. I didn’t think it out like that, but unconsciously…I suppose I did. I needed you to investigate. It was reflex.”
    She’d been sure already, so why did it hurt to have him admit it? Lily swallowed. “Lousy reflex. Long-lasting one, too.”
    The tension she hadn’t seen in him earlier was plain now—in his tight jaw, his grip on her hand, his continued silence.
    And yet the comfort she’d meant for him reached her, too. That’s how the mate bond worked. She couldn’t touch him without responding—and the response wasn’t always sexual.
    It was need the mate bond both created and answered. Need, not trust. Trust was up to them. She’d thought they were further along that road than this. Far enough that his first reflex would not have been to mislead her, even unconsciously. Far enough that he wouldn’t shut her out.
    When he spoke, his words came slowly. “The human response to pain is complex—tears, anger, the urge to defend or attack or sleep or find distraction. A wolf’s response is simpler. If a wolf is wounded, he withdraws—physically, if the wound is physical. Emotionally, if it’s not. I have both sets of responses, but when the pain is acute, the wolf’s response dominates.”
    “You’re saying this need for privacy is connected to your misleading me.”
    “The initial impulse was unhealthy. Wrong. The need for privacy, as you put it, kept me from correcting it.”
    “So you need to lick your wounds in private. I can understand that.” She did understand. Her biggest loss had occurred when she was nine. Her best friend had been raped and killed in front of her. She’d never been able to talk out the feelings the way everyone seemed to think she should. Not then, not now. “I’m not much on talky-talky stuff, either.”
    “It’s more than being unable to talk about my feelings. It’s distance I need. A distance that hurts you.”
    Well, yes, it did. But…“You’ve let me tend you when you were physically hurt. You’ve let Nettie tend you. You know the instinct to withdraw doesn’t work when a wound needs attention.”
    Surprise was clear in his voice when he said, “You’re right.”
    How could she not smile? “It happens.”
    “But I don’t…I don’t know how to do this differently.”
    “Maybe you could tell me about him. About Steve.”
    “We were age mates. He…that means more, perhaps, with clan children, especially those raised at Clanhome, since we so seldom have siblings close in age. We got in trouble together.” He smiled slightly. His grip on her hand eased. “For several years, he was my partner in crime.”
    “What kind of crimes did you commit?”
    He spoke of climbing a nearby peak, of an unsupervised trip into the city, of practical jokes that sometimes worked only too well. The first two didn’t surprise her; the practical jokes did.
    “He sounds like he had an unlupus-like disrespect for authority.”
    “That’s Steve.” He was easy now, his hand relaxed in hers. “Before First Change especially, but even after he became an adult, he enjoyed challenging the status quo.”
    “Why didn’t I know him?” she asked softly. Hilliard had lived in a town that bordered Clanhome. If he’d been such a close friend, why hadn’t she met