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I nod in agreement to myself. That’s a good plan. I remain quiet, press my hand against the wall, then push myself to my feet. My knees are still weak, my legs trembling from the aftermath.

“Sorry. I…I don’t know what I was thinking. I heard a loud bang, and I wanted to make sure you didn’t fall. I’m crossing the line, aren’t I? I’m bad at that. Did you know that the statement ‘crossing the line’ comes from a maritime tradition?”

So my mate is a talker.

I snort to myself. I really enjoy my silence, and he most definitely invades it.

“That doesn’t matter. I’m getting off track. Anyway, you’re clearly fine. Unless, are you not talking because you’re bleeding to death?”

I turn my head and quirk a brow, snagging the shampoo from the shelf.

“You’re right. Stupid question. I’ll leave you be. Have a good shower. Stay warm.”

I grin, washing the shampoo out of my hair as I hear him retreat, his footsteps getting further and further away from the door.

He speaks to himself. “Stay warm? He’s in the fucking shower, idiot. Of course, he’s warm.”

I scrub my body, the smile on my face hurting my cheeks from hearing him ramble. He’s nervous too. He feels the mate bond. He has to.

“I have to get out of here,” I hear him whisper to himself.

I stop scrubbing, my smile fading just as fast as it appeared. I don’t want him to go. I don’t want him to stay either, but I don’t want him to leave me.

That contradicts itself, Alaska. He can’t stay and go.

Maybe there’s a way out of this for both of us since we are out of each other’s depths here. Clearly, Fate had to have made a mistake putting us together when neither of us knows what to do with one another.

Even if the thought of him is the best emotion I’ve ever felt in two centuries.

Turning off the shower, I push the glass door open, cool air rushing across my skin. Ripping the towel off the rod, I dry myself off, then wrap the fluffy cotton around my waist. I tuck the corner of the towel and roll the top edge once to keep it snug.

In two steps, I stand in front of the sink. I grip the edge of the hand-carved countertop I made myself, noticing I didn’t build this bathroom with two people in mind. Finding my fated mate was never an option. I put it so far in the back of my mind, I didn’t just forget about it; it was as if the information was never there.

I stare at my reflection; the light scarlet hue hasn’t left my irises. Leo has had to see them and probably has questions. How do I go about telling a human I’m a vampire?

I suppose I could call Oklahoma. He’d know. He’s mated to a human. He could give me advice.

“You have really let yourself go.” I scrub my unruly beard, wondering how the hell Leo could ever like me when I don’t even like myself.

I frown at my reflection, hating the truth to that thought. I really do hate myself. I hate myself in ways I can never speak out loud.

I’m fighting demons, and in a way, even when I was human, I was the same way. I never felt like I was good enough for anybody. No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I pushed myself to do my best, I was never good enough.

Those feelings didn’t go away when I got turned into a vampire. They were amplified. All I think about is how I need to do more and more and more. I want to lose myself in a task because then maybe I’ll be worth something.

I’ve had that way of thinking for so long that I have lost myself. I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know what I like to do. I don’t know my hobbies or interests. All I know is Dead Man’s Ranch.

Two hundred years of waiting for time to stop ticking, only for centuries to go to waste. I should have done more to improve myself.

Maybe then, I’d be worth a damn to Leo. I’m afraid we’ve crossed paths too late.

Still, I can try to look decent for my mate to win him over because it won’t be my sparkling personality that has him choose me.

Opening the cabinet under the sink, I take out my beard trimmers and hair clippers, deciding it’s time to look worthy.

I might not be good enough for myself, but there’s a chance I could be good enough for him. He makes me want to try even if the thought of falling in love with him scares me.

Him being a him terrifies me. What if I can’t please him? What if he hates me too? He’d have every reason to. I’m fucking miserable.