Page 66 of A Wolf’s Wound

Hannah

“Because I was scared,” I say simply.

“But you just said you knew I wouldn’t hurt you,” Ryder says, looking confused and a little hurt.

“I wasn’t scared of you. Not like that,” I try to explain. “But of what you represented.”

“What was that?”

“You’re the beta of the Stone pack,” I say. “You hold a lot of power. And you’re part of a very large and influential pack.”

“So? You’re Mason Blackwood’s stepdaughter. You’re practically pack royalty.”

“I know! That was the problem. I had seen firsthand how being in a pack can strip a mate of her autonomy. I didn’t want that to happen.”

“But your mom chose to marry Mason,” Ryder points out. “How did she lose her autonomy?”

“In some ways, she never lost her autonomy or her agency,” I concede. “She never stopped being my mother, for instance, and she and Mason have had a pretty equal marriage. But the pack became our entire lives, Ryder.”

“But that’s what family is,” he argues. “And that’s what your pack is, your family.”

“I know. And for my mother, that was a choice she made willingly. But she never sugarcoated it for me either. I grew up knowing how easily someone’s individual identity, especially a mate’s, could get boiled down to where it only mattered who her partner was.

To me, she was always my mother. To the rest of the pack, though, she was Mason’s wife. ”

“So you don’t think she was always seen for who she is,” Ryder says, and I nod.

“Exactly. I knew I wanted to make a life for myself apart from the pack, apart from any pack. I wanted to be seen for who I am and what I can do, not for who my stepfather is or how I grew up.”

“I completely respect that,” Ryder says. “I actually can understand some of it.”

“Really?”

“Hannah, I’m the beta and Gavin is the alpha. You want to talk about feeling the need to carve out your own identity? Try growing up being the beta of the Stone pack.”

“You’re completely right,” I realize. “You can probably relate to this better than anyone I know.”

“Well, maybe not your mom,” Ryder says.

“Okay, good point.”

“But I do relate, and I get why you didn’t say anything sooner,” Ryder tells me.

“Thanks. I’m glad you understand.”

“I wish I could guarantee that being my mate won’t ever compromise your autonomy,” Ryder says wistfully. “But I can’t control how others will see you or respond to you, or what they’ll think about you.”

“I know, and I wouldn’t believe you if you tried to make any promises,” I say. “Just the fact that you’re taking me seriously, though, means a lot.”

“I’m glad. And Hannah, I can promise you one thing,” Ryder says, moving even closer to me. He tilts his head down so our foreheads are touching. It’s a strangely intimate gesture.

“What?” I ask.

“I promise I will never control your freedom,” he says somberly. “I will never ask you to give up your dreams or desires in service to mine. And I will always treat you as the smart, determined, and incredibly capable individual you are. You will never be ‘just’ a mate to me.”

“That must be the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” I say, blinking back tears. “That could have been a wedding vow, Ryder.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he teases, his own eyes damp with emotion. “I just hope you believe me.”

“I do,” I whisper, and he grins.

“I told you not to get ahead of yourself. Ow!” he mock-cries as I gently punch his arm.

“Please, that was nothing,” I tease.

“Hannah, everything you do is something,” Ryder tells me. Then he yawns. “I know we don’t want to fall asleep, but I don’t think I have a choice anymore.”

“It’s okay,” I reassure him as his eyes close. “We both really need to get some rest.”

“Good night, Hannah,” Ryder says and then yawns again. “I love you.”

“Good night, Ryder,” I whisper, but he’s already asleep.

I close my eyes, but my brain is still racing at a hundred miles an hour. I turn onto my other side and then sigh before going back to my original position. Ryder’s deeply asleep by now.

As I look at him, I think about the conversation we just had. And I wonder why I don’t feel more reassured.

After all, everything Ryder said was exactly what I wanted to hear.

I do honestly believe he will never try to control me or tell me what to do.

I know that mating with him won’t mean giving up my career, friends, or even Shadow.

In fact, I can clearly see how being Ryder’s mate will cause my life to become fuller—with his family, with his pack—without me having to lose anything in return.

But just because neither of us want anything to change doesn’t mean that change won’t come anyway.

And even the good changes will mean that we have to change too.

I think about what it would be like to have a family with Ryder.

Becoming a mother would sure as hell bring changes to my life, just like they would to Ryder’s life.

Still, the good changes—the ones I would choose—those are difficult enough to imagine. The changes that could happen anyway, that could affect my life before I’m even aware of what’s happening—those are even scarier.

I toss around again, frustrated at my circular and vague thoughts. I feel like I’m so close to pinpointing what exactly is bothering me, but every time I get close, my thoughts stop making sense.

Closing my eyes, I try to take deep, calming breaths. They don’t work. My eyes pop back open, seemingly of their own accord. I flip over so my face is in the pillow and let out a low growl of frustration. How is it possible that, on tonight of all nights, I can’t fall asleep?

Then I realize what’s bothering me! It’s what Ryder said about not being able to control how others see me.

I know he’s right, and what matters the most is that I act in a way that’s true to myself, to who I really am. Others can make whatever assumptions or judgments they want, and as long as I know who I am, everything else will fall into place.

That is what worries me: that I won’t be self-aware enough to always know that I’m being true to myself. That my true self will become subsumed by the pack, by Ryder, by the Stone family, and I won’t even realize it because I’ll just assume that’s what is supposed to happen.

I’m afraid, I realize, that I’ll be spending the rest of my life taking my own temperature, in a way. That I’ll be constantly checking in with myself, ever-vigilant, to make sure I’m doing things because I want to, not because it’s what Lori wants or Gavin or even Ryder wants.

The idea of living at that level of vigilance is exhausting. I feel even more worn out just thinking about spending the next five decades or so always questioning myself, never able to feel 100 percent secure that I’m making decisions because they’re right for me.

But what if I’m wrong? What if becoming Ryder’s mate actually makes me surer of myself and more confident? Don’t I owe it to myself to find out?

Before I can relax into that line of thought, though, two other questions pop back into my head, more insistent than before: What if I change anyway? What if I’m never the same again?