Charles was leaning, still golden-eyed, against the wall opposite the door. Other than his eyes, he was the epitome of relaxation-but she knew to believe the eyes.

She’d checked her own with a glance at the mirror before she’d opened the door.

“I’ve decided you need to know about Asil,” he told her as if there had been no break in their conversation.

“All right.” She stayed in the doorway, the steamy room warm at her back.

He spoke slowly and distinctly, as if he were pulling his words out from between his teeth. “Asil’s not really his name, though it’s what most people call him. They also call him the Moor.”

She stiffened. Uneducated about her own kind she might be, but she’d heard of the Moor. Not a wolf to mess with.

He saw her reaction, and his eyes narrowed. “If there is a wolf in this world older than my father, it might be Asil.”

He seemed to be waiting for her to comment, so she finally asked, “You don’t know how old Asil is?”

“I know how old he is. Asil was born just before Charles Martel, Charlemagne’s grandfather, defeated the Moors at the Battle of Tours.”

She must have looked blank.

“Eighth century A.D.”

“That would make him…”

“About thirteen hundred years old.”

She leaned against the wall herself. She’d seen the weight of age on him, but she’d never have guessed how many years.

“So, the one you’re not sure of is your father?” Thirteen hundred years was a long time.

He shrugged, the answer clearly didn’t matter to him. “Da’s old.” He turned his amber eyes away from her face.

“Asil came here a while ago, fourteen-fifteen years, to ask my father to kill him. He settled for the promise of death instead-as soon as my father determines that he really is crazy.”

Charles gave her a small smile. “Asil didn’t have any problem with my father being his Alpha. But he had a problem with me being more dominant-which is why I think Da might be older than Asil. My relative youth is a thorn in his paw.”

Anna worked it out in her head. “Didn’t he talk about his Alpha in Europe? And I don’t remember him being an Alpha in any of the stories about him.” There were a lot of stories about the Moor. He was almost a folk hero-or villain-among the wolves.

“Being an Alpha isn’t easy,” Charles said. “It’s a lot of responsibility, a lot of work. Some of the older wolves get pretty good at concealing what they are from others-that’s one of the reasons Alphas don’t like old wolves moving into their packs. Asil’s plenty dominant.” He smiled again, but this time it was more a baring of teeth. “He’d been here a couple of months when I stepped between him and one of our nonwolf residents. He wasn’t amused to find out that I really was more dominant than him.”

“He could submit to your father because he is older, to his other Alphas-because he wasn’t really submitting. But, to have to obey you when you are so much younger and not even an Alpha…”

Charles nodded. “So he digs at me, and I ignore him. Then he digs harder.”

“That’s what tonight was?” Anna could see it. “He was using me to dig at you.”

Charles tilted his head in a gesture that was more wolf than human. “Not entirely. The Moor had a mate, but he lost her a couple of hundred years ago. She died before my time, so I never met her, but she was supposed to have been an Omega, like you.” He shrugged. “He has never said so in my hearing, nor has my father. There are a lot of stories about the Moor, and until I saw his reaction to you at Doc’s funeral, I’d put that one down to pure hype along with a lot of other legends connected to his name.”

The warmth from her shower was gone, and the coolness of the water it left behind was chilly-or maybe it was recalling the way the old wolf had stared into her eyes in the church. “Why did his reaction make you rethink it?”

She could tell from Charles’s nod that she’d asked the right question. “Because when he noticed what you are, he stopped bothering you to get to me-and became interested in you.” He took a deep breath. “That’s why he brought you flowers. That’s why, when he threatened to try to woo you away from me, I had such a hard time controlling myself-because I knew he really meant it.”

She decided to think about that later and keep her attention on the conversation so she didn’t push him inadvertently. “Why are you telling me about Asil? Is this a warning?”

He looked away, his face back in its blank mask. “No.” He hesitated, then said in a softer voice, “I don’t think so. Did you feel as if it was a warning?”

“No,” she said finally, as frustrated by the careful information that avoided something she could almost sense-the something that was keeping his wolf so close.

Before she could ask what was troubling him, he told her, face averted, as fast as he could get the words out. “He wanted you to know that if, in the time before the first full moon, you decide not to have me-you could pick him instead. ” Even with his head turned away, she could see the edge of his bitter smile. “And he knew he could force me to tell you so.”

“Why did you tell me?” Her voice was soft.

He turned back to her. “It is your right to know that although we are compatible, you can still refuse me.”

“Can you refuse me?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never heard of a binding happening backwards like ours-Brother Wolf chose you, chose your wolf and left me to follow him. But it doesn’t matter-I don’t want to refuse you.”

The wolf gave her a clearer head in some things, but her wolf had chosen this man and made no bones about what she thought of choosing another. She was forced to push her back a little so she could get a clear sense of what he was trying to tell her.

“And I would do this why?”

Did he want her to refuse him?

Her throat was dry as dust. She, human and wolf both, craved him like a junkie just as she craved all the things he seemed to promise: safety, love, hope-a place to belong. She rubbed nervous hands on her thighs as if that would soothe her tension away.

He whispered, “I hope you don’t. But you need to be told of your options.” His hands were fisted on his thighs.

She smelled something sharp in his scent that she hadn’t before. Damn Leo that he’d left her crippled by ignorance. She’d give her right hand to know what Charles was feeling, to know when he was telling the truth-and when he was just trying not to hurt her.

He was waiting for her answer, but she didn’t know what to say.

“Options.” She tried for neutrality. What did he want of her?

Evidently not neutrality. His fists opened and closed twice. Nostrils flared wide, he looked at her with hot yellow eyes.

“Options,” he growled, his voice dropping so that she felt the rumble of it in her chest. “Asil will spread the word, and you’ll be buried in wolves who would be pleased to lay their lives down for the chance of being your mate.”

His whole body was shaking, and he leaned harder against the wall as if he were afraid he was going to try to tackle her.

She was failing him. He was losing control, and she wasn’t helping, didn’t know how to help.

She sucked in another deep breath and tried to let it wash away all of her insecurities. This was not a man who wanted to give up his mate. This was a man trying to do the honorable thing-and give her a choice, no matter how much it cost him. That was right, and the knowledge steadied her, and she let her wolf come back and give her the confidence she needed.

For her he shook like an alcoholic in need of his gin, because he felt she needed to know her options, no matter how his wolf felt about losing his mate. Her knight, indeed.

Her wolf didn’t like seeing his unhappiness, wanted to bind him to her, to them, with chains and love until he could never think of leaving them again.

“Well then,” she said as briskly as she could manage under the weight of that revelation, a weight that made her feel warm and safe while her eyes burned with tears. Mostly her voice just sounded husky. “It’s a good thing there’s something we can do to fix that little loophole right now.”