Page 148 of The Wolf Prince

My Wolf.

He's not gone.

That beautiful pain-in-the-ass Wolf I looked for every morning isn't lying hurt somewhere in the woods.

He didn't abandon me. He's standing right in front of me. And the grief I've been carrying around for weeks suddenly cracks wide open, letting relief pour into all those empty places.

My eyes sting.

Damn it.

“Why did you stop coming?”

The question comes out much smaller than I intended. Grimm's amusement disappears.

“I waited for you every day,” I admit. “I kept bringing chocolate like an idiot.”

“Agatha—”

“I missed our talks.”

His face changes.

Guilt.

Real guilt.

Not the oops, I got caught kind.

The painful kind. He reaches for my hand.

I flinch before I can stop myself.

Grimm freezes.

His hand remains suspended between us for half a second before he slowly lowers it. He doesn't try again.

Good.

I think.

Except some traitorous part of me immediately misses the touch he never got to give me.

“I couldn't come to you,” he says.

I search his face.

“What does that mean?”

His gaze drifts toward the woods. The same woods where I first met my Wolf.

When he looks back at me, there is something old in his eyes.

Something that has nothing to do with the man standing in front of me tonight.

“I was cursed many years ago by a Witch.”

Okay, that was not on my bingo card.