I didn’t know what to say to that. The kind of pain he was carrying, the guilt, it was beyond anything I’d ever experienced. But if anything happened to my family because of my actions, I knew I’d never forgive myself either.
The self-blame, the isolation, the belief that he deserved to suffer for what had happened, I understood it all too well. I’d seen it in warriors who’d lost their pack mates, in parents who’d lost children. Survivor’s guilt was a terrible thing, made worse by the fact that he’d been forced to live with the knowledge that his touch was deadly.
But the need to comfort him, to touch him and be with him, surpassed any modesty or self-preservation I might have had. The mate bond was singing in my veins, demanding that I soothe his pain, that I show him he wasn’t the mons
