She nearly dropped the bowl as he pulled her close, gathering her into his embrace, but she made no protest. He seemed to need her somehow, to know she meant everything she'd said. She knew he was more afraid for her than for himself, but they had taken every possible precaution, save putting him in chains. That was where she'd drawn the line. Locking him up was cruel enough; she refused to put him in chains. She could take care of herself if she had to, and if things went south, well ....she'd survived worse things than a rogue werewolf. It was him she was worried about. She knew it wasn't going to be easy watching him suffer through this, but she needed to know. If they were going to have any chance of building a life together, she needed to witness it for herself.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, gently easing back from the embrace. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed as he stepped back, gesturing up the stairs. "After you, kitten."

"I wish you'd stop apologizing all the time," she told him, as gently as she could, a hint of hurt in her voice, though she tried to hide it. She stayed where she was a moment longer, just looking at him, as if there was something she wanted to say that just wouldn't come out, before turning at last and starting back up the stairs. "And please don't apologize for apologizing," she added for good measure.

He opened his mouth to do just that, and abruptly snapped it shut, frowning as she turned away. "Have I done something wrong?" he asked her softly, moving to follow her. "I don't mean to hurt you, Marissa. I'm trying to protect you, but I'm obviously not particularly good at it."

"Wrong?" she echoed as she went to the sink to clean out the bowl. "No ....I don't know," she replied with a shrug of her shoulders, though her back was turned toward him. "We know so little of each other. There's never enough time, is there?" she mused aloud, though it was a rhetorical question that she didn't expect him to answer. "I saw something once a long time ago. Something ....terrible." She nearly shuddered with the memory of it, her gaze focused on cleaning the bowl, though her thoughts were far away. "I'm not afraid of you, Emrys, if that's what you think, and I'm not going to leave you to suffer through this alone." There were far worse things in the world than lycanthropes, after all.

"No matter what you see tonight, I will still be the same man when it is over," he promised her. "I remember nothing from my shifts. I don't even know if I'm capable of speech when I'm turned. I don't want to frighten you, kitten." He sighed softly, moving to stand at her back - close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him, but not touching her. He still treated her a little like a wild animal when he didn't know how she was going to react.

"I know," she admitted, feeling his presence behind her, without needing to look. She heard his voice come closer, felt the warmth that radiated from him, recognized his scent as well as any of her own kin. All of her heightened awareness knowing he stood only inches away from her, close enough to touch him, if she dared, and while she wasn't afraid of him, there was something else that frightened her. "It's too late for that now, Emrys. It's too late," she whispered, more to herself than to him.

"It's never too late, Marissa," he murmured, stepping close enough that his chest touched her back, his lips brushing the tip of her ear. Instincts he had never believed he truly had before meeting her were screaming at him to take the chance while he still had it, telling him to trust in her strength. "In the morning, I will still be what I am ....the man who loves you."

She tensed as she felt him come closer, her pulse quickening at the faintest touch of his lips, of the sound of his voice so close to her ear, the vibration of it in his chest. She could almost sense the blood that thrummed through his veins. Oh, it would be so easy to let the tiger loose, but she didn't want to taste his flesh, not in that way. And then he said it - the words he'd been hinting at for weeks, words that both thrilled and frightened her to her core. She'd heard those words before - no, that had been the others. They were all gone now, all lost. All the friends and the lovers, but him. Part of her wanted to tell him not to - that he was a fool to love her, that it would only bring him pain and sorrow - but wasn't that what he'd been trying to tell her, too' She turned to face him, tears sparkling in her soft brown eyes, and buried her face against his chest.

He hadn't expected her to react at all, if he was honest with himself. She had deflected almost every hint he had given her of his growing feelings, and yet now ....His arms rose to wrap about her, recalling the way she had cried on him when he had told her he would not risk knowing her just to save his sister's life in the past. She really was a wounded animal, unused to being made the center of anyone's world. His hand gently stroked her hair as he held her, letting her cry herself out if she needed to. "That will never change, kitten," he promised her in a low tone. "Even if you were to throw me out tomorrow, I would love you still, and will do, until the end of my days."

"Please, don't ..." she whispered, her voice ragged with tears. She wasn't asking him not to love her, so much as wishing he wouldn't talk about her sending him away. "Don't you understand?" she said, punching his chest with a half-hearted effort. "I don't want to lose you. I'm terrified of losing you," she told him between sobs.

He grunted a little at the punch to his chest, unable to help smiling at her sobbing words. "Marissa ..." One hand gently cupped her cheek, raising her eyes to his as he looked down at her. "Why do you assume you are going to lose me?"

"Because ..." she started, unsure how to explain exactly. He'd done nothing thus far to make her think he'd leave. He had, in fact, done everything to make her think he'd stay, so what was she afraid of exactly. Did she really believe she couldn't be lucky just this once" Didn't they both deserve to be happy' "Because I ..." There were no words to explain the feelings of loss and loneliness that haunted her, even if they weren't her own thoughts and feelings. They were all together now, all part of the whole. "I lost someone before ..."

His thumb gently stroked her cheek as he looked into her eyes. "I'm not him," he reminded her gently. "I won't leave unless you tell me to, and I don't believe you will do that. We're all afraid of being alone, kitten; afraid of being broken by someone who doesn't love the way we deserve. I have nothing to offer you but myself, broken as I am. But everything I have is yours."

"I can't do it again. I can't. It's why I've been alone. All this time. I'm scared, Emrys. I'm afraid what will happen, but I'm not afraid for me. I'm afraid for you, don't you see?" she said, meeting his gaze, unable to hide the haunted look from her eyes. "I-I think I love you and ..." She trailed off again, the words caught in her throat.

"Shh ..." He couldn't help the surge of pleasure that rose through him as she reciprocated his declaration, leaning down to gently touch his lips to hers. "Then that is all we need be concerned with," he told her softly. "Love is trust. I trust that you will not hurt me. I hope that you trust I would not hurt you. There is no rule that says you must be ready to be in love, Marissa. I have never felt this way, and I know I will never feel this way for anyone else. Give me time to prove to you that I am not going anywhere. Let me help you learn how not to be afraid anymore."

She lost herself in his kiss, and everything in the world seemed right again, if only for a moment, but the afternoon was waning, and they were both dreading the night. "Don't talk of me sending you away anymore. Nothing that happens tonight will change anything. We are not so different, Emrys," she told him, fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "I am half wolf, like you. I chose the cat, but I could have just as easily chosen the wolf. Nothing you do tonight will frighten me. I have seen things, Emrys. Terrible things ....Nothing about you frightens me. I am only worried I will lose you."

"I did not mean that you would send me away," he tried to clarify his earlier words for her peace of mind. "Let me try again. I love you, Marissa. And no matter what happens, even if we were separated by miles and years by some ungodly magic, I would still love you. As broken as I am, I would be your mate, and I will do whatever you ask of me. Because I love you."

And there it was, the clouding force that slammed hard into his mind, wiping away the man he was from every nuance of his form. In the darkness, he howled, and the sound was painful, torn from a throat that had never been designed for such use. He dropped into a crouch, hunching back against the wall of the cellar, displaying the yellow eyes of a wolf. His lip curled back, revealing sharper points to his teeth. So it would seem that Emrys' shift was not wholly in the mind, after all.

She felt her skin prickling with a chill that wasn't from the cold when she heard that howl, hearing the pain in his voice as he tried to do that which the wolf bade him, that which was natural to his species, but unnatural for his human throat. She could sense the change in him before she dared to look, eyes wide to find he was not wholly human, though the look of him in that half-human state was almost more horrifying that to have seen him as a fully formed werewolf. There was something wrong about it, something only half-finished, and she thought herself foolish for trying to offer any words of advice. She searched his eyes for some shred of the man, some hint that he was still there somewhere, or was he wholly lost to the beast in his head"

There was an intelligence in the yellow eyes that betrayed him. Though Emrys might not recall what happened in these hours, he was still there. This was his wildness, the wolf inside him that begged to be freed but for a few mistakes in his creation. He raised his head, sniffing at the air, and his eyes swung about to the door, focusing on the sight of her through the little window with startling accuracy. His nostrils flared, the long line of his human limbs drawing him toward the door in a low, predatory crouch, drawn toward her by her scent.

Fear clutched her heart as it pounded in her chest, and she remembered another night, another encounter - terrible pain and paralyzing fear and then nothing - but that was not this night. No, it was only a memory of something that had gone before. She turned away from the window as she struggled with that fear, but he was no demon - he was only a man struggling with his own gifts, just as she'd once struggled. She gathered her courage and turned back to look at him again, to meet his gaze, to try and reach the humanity in him and look past the beast. "Emrys," she said, her mouth whispering his name.

By the time she turned back, he was right there, barely a foot from her, only the sturdy door and her protective magic separating them. There was no aggression in the way he looked at her - curiosity, longing perhaps, in those yellow animalistic eyes as they studied her face. He leaned closer, sniffing at her as his brow creased, hearing his name, recognizing it as his own ....recognizing her as his own. And someone or something had locked her away where he could not reach her. The animal aggression rose, primal fury at being kept from his mate, and he threw himself at the door with a loud snarl.

She met his gaze unflinchingly, touching her fingers to the window almost as if she wanted to reach out and touch him. There was something in his eyes that seemed to recognize her, despite the fact that his mind had given way to the wolf. She whispered his name again, as if trying to reach him, trying to soothe him, but it seemed her presence only frustrated him. Her eyes grew large as he threw himself at the door, fear clutching her heart. She remembered what he'd told her about his sister - would he kill her the way he'd killed his sister, without knowing what he was doing, or was it something else that was causing his rage"

But he never touched the door itself. The sigils she had painted on the wood burst to life in a bright, blinding glow, sending him whimpering back to the shadows at the far side of the cellar, frightened as any animal would be of something unexpected. He lurked back there, whimpering to himself, the expression on his face very human. He looked hurt and frightened, wanting to be with her, but unable to reach her.

She wasn't too surprised by his reaction to the sigils. She had been the one who'd put them there, after all, though she hadn't quite expected him to react so strongly. Still, at least he hadn't hurt himself yet, and he hadn't tried to hurt her, but the night was young, and it would take hours for the moon to traverse the sky. Her heart ached to see him like that, and she wondered not for the first time if there wasn't something she could do to help him.

Things seemed quiet for a while after that. Emrys paced back and forth, anxious and restless, his eyes never leaving the little window through which he could see his mate. Very slowly, he approached the door once again, wary of the sigils that still glowed dimly when he brushed his hand against the cloth-padded wood. He whined in the back of his throat, the yellow of his lupine eyes flickering briefly to the green she was more familiar with as he looked at her longingly. But as the wolf took control again, he moved with purpose, scratching at the door continuously as though trying to dig his way through, heedless of the pain as he rubbed his fingertips raw, breaking his fingernails in his eagerness to reach her.

Marissa felt torn between her feelings of sympathy and horror. She wished she could open the door and go to him, hold him in her arms and try to soothe his fears and his anger, but in his current state of mind, it was too dangerous. Tears rolled down her cheeks while she watched him - an animal trapped in a cage - and she realized how cruel it was to keep him there, even if it was for his own protection. He was a wild thing and he deserved to be free, but not like this. Naked and cold and afraid - half human, half beast. There had to be a way to help him, but she wasn't sure how.

"Emrys," she called to him again, alarmed as he made his way to the door once again, scratching with fingers that weren't made for such things. "Emrys, stop ....Please," she pleaded, though she knew he couldn't understand her words.

He growled softly in the back of his throat - non-threatening, just an expression of that want to be near her as he scratched at the door with growing frustration. A quiet whine left him at the sound of his name on her lips, his hands stilling for a moment as he leaned against the dimly glowing wood to sniff at her hopefully.

"I'm here," she told him, her eyes meeting his, searching his, trying desperately to reach the man inside the beast. "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere. I love you, remember" Just ....try to rest. It will be over soon. I promise." She tried to keep her voice soft, soothing, but she couldn't help but let the worry creep in, the pain and the anguish to see him that way.

He whined again, the sound becoming one of desperation as his attention returned to scratching at the door, trying to dig his way through. He didn't even seem to notice when the cloth tore under his fingers, taking at least two of his nails with it.

She couldn't see what was going on behind the door, only that he was incessantly scratching, as if he was trying to claw his way out, but at least, he wasn't throwing himself at the door anymore or snarling in anger. There was something sweet about the beast that lurked within him, as dangerous as he was, or was she misjudging him because she loved him' She was tempted, so tempted to open the door and join him, but there was no telling what he might do if she did. No, it was better this first time to watch and to wait, and to hope for the best.

She was his focus. Some part of the beast in him recognized her as being his mate, the one he had chosen to stay with. All he truly wanted was to be with her, and yet, the animal in him would only really want one thing if that wish was granted. Frustrated by the barrier between them, he scratched and scratched, wasting hours as the moon trekked across the sky, heedless of his bloodied hands and the pain that came with them.

Hours passed slowly, while the moon made its trek across the sky with the beast that lived inside Emrys trying to scratch his way out, while Marissa stood vigil, never once leaving his side - not even to eat or sleep. It was exhausting, but not nearly as exhausting for her as it was for him.

In the small hours of the night, the full moon waned, lifting her powerful influence from the broken werewolf's mind. The incessant scratching ceased. Emrys groaned, staggering back from the door to fall onto his knees as he gasped for breath. As consciousness returned to him, he became aware of the sweat chilling his skin, the ache in his arms and throat, the burning pain of his bloodied hands, hissing at the sting as he looked down to see the mess he had made of his fingers. Yet his first thought was not for himself.

"Marissa?" he rasped, trying to force volume from a throat made raw. "Are ....are you ....all right?"

"Mm, sounds kinky. The weretiger might like it," she said, the slightest hint of a smirk on her face, despite the serious tone in his voice. "Really, Emrys. I'm a weretiger. Do you really think you could hurt me if I didn't want you to?" she asked, turning the tables back around on him. Unlike him, she had control of her animal form - mostly, anyway. She turned back to make him a cup of tea because her foster mother had taught her that tea always makes everything better.

He managed a lopsided smile in response to that. "I know you could easily swat me onto the floor and pin me there for a few hours," he assured her. "It's just ....I don't want you to ever feel uncomfortable, or even have a moment of fear around me, if I can possibly help it. I can understand that having a predatory male wanting to impregnate you would be a little scary, even for you."

"Well, yes ..." she admitted with a frown. "It would scare me, but the tiger wouldn't stand for it. I just ..." She sighed. "I wouldn't want her to hurt you either." She turned back to prepare a cup of tea. "There are things about me you still don't know, Emrys. Things you probably should know," she added quietly, before turning to the hearth to hand him the hot steaming mug. "Sip it slowly. It's got some herbs in it that will help with the pain."

He took the mug carefully between his palms, looking a little like an overgrown toddler as he obediently sipped the contents, all thumbs and fingers sticking out everywhere. "Kitten, you don't have to tell me anything," he reminded her, clearing his throat as his voice abruptly came back, the ache leaving his voice box. "I would like you to feel as though you can tell me anything and everything, but your knowledge, your past ....they belong to you. I will listen to anything you have to tell me, but I will never insist that you share it."

"Here, let me help," she said, crouching down in front of him to help with the mug, almost forgetting about his wounded fingers until she saw him struggling. "If we're going to be together, then there are some things you need to know, but it doesn't have to be today," she told him gently. "Careful, Em," she warned him, as he helped with the tea. "Will they be better by morning?" she asked, of his hands.

"Thank you." He half-smiled, grateful for the help she gave him. "No one's ever looked after me like this before," he admitted almost shyly. "I like it." Taking another sip from the mug as she helped him, he swallowed, taking a better look at his hands. The worst of the damage he had done was already healed, but it would take a few more hours for the fingernails to grow back. "They'll heal by morning," he assured her. "I've done worse, believe me."

"I'm sure," she replied, letting him take another sip while she remained close, relieved his ordeal was over, for now anyway. "I was thinking ....Perhaps next time I should take you hunting. It's what the wolf wants, and he can't hurt me in my weretiger form." Besides, if things kept going the way they were going, they'd likely be mated by then. "We can focus on small game. Rabbits, squirrels ....nothing too big or too dangerous."

"That is true," he admitted reluctantly. He didn't like it, but then, neither of them had particularly liked the locking him up idea, either. He knew she could protect herself from him. At some point, he was going to have to admit that it made more sense just to let her take charge. "I don't feel comfortable with it, but perhaps you're right. But then, I've never remembered anything from a shift before tonight, and that has a lot to do with you being here."

"We have another whole month before we have to worry about it," she said, touching a hand to his cheek. "I was worried for you," she admitted, her gaze soft with obvious affection.

He closed his eyes, leaning into the gentle touch of her hand. For someone who had been starved of any kind of tactile affection in his life, Marissa's growing confidence to give him just that touched his heart. Green eyes opened to hold her gaze, a smile in them that only barely touched his lips and seemed somehow more intimate than others he might have given her. "I knew you were watching over me," he told her quietly. "I'm sorry if I scared you."

And her heart longed to give him that love and affection she knew he'd been lacking, if only she could get past her own fears. "There you go apologizing again," she pointed out with a small smirk of her own. She took the cup from him and set it aside. "Now, let me see your hands," she demanded, offering her own.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it," he apologized again, his eyes twinkling with a teasing light as he grinned at her. It seemed that it didn't take long for his usual good humor to return, even after the trauma of his not-quite-turn at the full moon. Her demand to see his hands made him chuckle, stretching them out in front of her. Despite the dried blood, they looked mostly intact now, but there were three fingernails still missing. Those looked particularly raw.

She winced at the condition of his fingers, though she knew from the incessant scratching she'd heard on the other side of the door, they were already looking far better than they had been just a short time ago. "You're a quick healer," she remarked, reaching for the med kit she'd brought over with the tea. It was no big surprise as lycanthropes usually had a natural affinity for healing, but even this was faster than she'd expected. She dabbed a little ointment on his injured fingers, if only to ease the pain and prevent infection. There was something that was niggling at her brain, but she wasn't quite sure how to bring it up without causing him pain. "Why do you think it was different this time?" she asked as she tended to his fingers.

"I didn't used to heal this fast," he commented, trying not to wince as she dabbed ointment onto the fingers in need of the most help. "When I was younger, it could take days for me to heal. Perhaps my body's learned to heal faster because I'm always stuck in human form?" He shrugged, watching her work with interest. "This time ....I couldn't say for sure," he admitted, glancing up at her. "But it may be that it was different purely because of the connection between us. A mating isn't like a human fling. It goes deeper. And clearly the wolf has accepted you as mate, too, or I doubt I would have been allowed even a glimpse of what was happening."

"Tigers don't mate the way wolves do," she pointed out, though she was part wolf herself, not to mention her human form. "My mother was a tiger and my father was a wolf. They mated in their human forms," she told him, though she'd explained this to some extent once before. "It shouldn't have worked, really - a tiger and a wolf mating. The species are incompatible. Some might even say they're enemies, but somehow my mother became pregnant. Abomination, that's what I would have been, what I still am to some. But my mother understood the danger, and she sought help. She underwent a procedure that somehow fused her DNA with my father's before I was born. I'm not sure how it was done, but I'm a little of both."

"You're not an abomination," he told her firmly. "To have been conceived at all ....you're a miracle." To his credit, though, he didn't speak again until she was done, curious and fascinated by the circumstances that had brought her into being. "I ....don't know what DNA is, but it sounds as though your mother is a very special woman," he said gently. "I wish I could thank her."

"Yes, well ....she died a long time ago. They both did. At least, the mother and father I knew. It's complicated," she said with another sigh. Complicated and wearying to explain to someone who understood so little of this world. Finished tending to his fingers, she set the medkit aside and pressed the palm of her hand against his. "When my mother's people choose a mate, it's for life," she told him. Even if it wasn't the way with tigers, it seemed it was the way with her ancestors.

He pressed his palm to hers, his eyes slowly tracking from their joined hands to her own gaze with a gentle smile. "So do mine," he told her softly. "When I say I love you, Marissa, it's for life. Try not to be so afraid. No matter what happens, I'm yours."