Her mouth dropped open a little, before she snapped it shut. “I-I think a little more than you?” Reaching out, she touched his hand, one fingertip brushing over his claws. “I’m only an empath. Not a hero, not anything special.” Reaching into him, she went ahead and blocked the pain of thawing out. Drawing her hand back, she opened it up, looking at her own palm. “It’s … there isn’t anything else to me, except trying to help people. And most people don’t really … want to be helped. It makes them feel weak.”
Isaac kept his hand still as she examined it, relieved she hadn’t freaked out. “I’m a werewolf…” he explained, closing his eyes briefly. When he opened them again he had fully shifted, a bright amber shining from his irises. His voice was slightly muffled by his fangs as he continued to talk. “You are a hero,” he told her with confidence in his voice, “-and I’m a monster.” Suddenly his pain halted and he felt energy surge back to him. “Yeah- well I’d rather feel weak then dead…thanks…” he murmured softly, hanging his head to hide his face…she probably hated the fact she had saved him now she knew what he was.
Summer’s laugh was choked and harsh. “I /invade people’s privacy/,” she said. “I’m not a hero. There are so many people — hurting — I can’t — at least with you I knew what to do, I knew how, I was /allowed/.” She all but spits the last word. But almost immediately she’s put her hands over her face, head bent, shaking it until her red hair broke free of the metal clip and tumbled over her breast. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, “I’m sorry, you don’t deserve that, it’s not you, it’s me.”
Her face was set, a little strained when she looked back up at him. “How are you feeling now? Do you think you can drink the chocolate?” It’s as if that grating interlude of pain never happened, she turned so quickly back to helping him.