She returned my sorrowful gaze with a stony glare. I remained in the doorway as she moved about our room, making tidying motions, avoiding the large, austere bed. Two of the candles went out in a panic of flickering as she swept past, plunging the chamber into further darkness. One flame lingered by her face, the other near my own, casting opposing shadows.

“Please, talk to me.” I asked.

She stopped, one hand hovering over the bed, which stood as a barren wasteland between us. It had remained undisturbed for so long.

She straightened and crossed her arms. “You owe me an explanation.”

“Yes, I do. We’ve only been married for a short time, and already the knife of mistrust tries to divide us. Either I deceive you every night, or I tell you the truth. You must accept one or the other, but I cannot yet reveal my purposes for staying away. I only ask you to wait until the right time, when all will be told.”

Because there is no way to tell you I am a werewolf without first showing you that I am human.