“I told her I love her. Everyone heard it. That’s not what she wants to hear… from the omega she was forced to dark bond.”
Kiara’s hesitance was endearing in a way that her sass wasn’t. However, her nerves were misplaced.
“She was stunned, but not upset.”
“And how do you know?”
I sighed. Peaceful enjoyment of anything was impossible with her constant fidgeting and talking, not that I should have expected to enjoy the blue sky and beating rays after what just occurred.
“I know that woman’s reactions like I know the back of my own hand. You ask too many questions.”
“I’m not used to them being answered.”
Closing my eyes, I fought the urge to snarl.
She didn’t talk much about how she’d grown up. Not to me. I didn’t think she talked about it to anyone, really. Her childhood was like the night of the fire was for me—something she would rather forget.
I wanted her to be able to forget about it.
I wanted her so distanced from it, there wasn’t a goddamn memory left. I would never get to that point with my memories, not when the evidence marked me for life. Not when I saw it in the mirror daily. But her? She might be able to replace bad memories with good, old with new.
“Your father didn’t answer your questions?” I asked.
Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to urge her on. If she broke down, my ability to comfort was… poor, to say the least.
She laughed bitterly. “He’d lock me in my room if I asked too many.”
With her personality, I got the sense she’d been locked away often.
“Sometimes, being locked up was better.”
This time I couldn’t hold back the snarl. Her sapphire eyes widened, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the sun. I should have brought sunscreen. She was pale enough to burn in the hour we had to spend out here.
“Will you tell me why that was better?” I asked.
I wanted to turn my chair to face her head on, but I couldn’t. Damn it, I was supposed to be protecting her, keeping an eye on everyone up here to make sure no one was snapping pictures or doing anything suspicious.
My focus kept wandering to her, the pain in her tone a beacon drawing me. We were cut from the same cloth. Trauma and pain. Not like the rest of my pack or Leighton.
I couldn’t belittle what any of them had gone through, but it wasn’t the same. There was something about being physically harmed by another person that did something to you. It twisted you up in a way nothing else could.
She hadn’t admitted it yet, but the scar on her eyebrow had come from somewhere. Other small scars littered her flesh too. Nothing too noticeable if I hadn’t been cataloging every inch of her when I’d seen her naked.
Whoever hurt her didn’t want it obvious, and it wasn’t.
I only knew because I recognized the pain in her expression.
“My brother,” she whispered after a long pause. I strained to hear her voice over the screech of the children and the gentle hum of music from someone’s speaker. “Tobias wasn’t… nice to me.”
“Did he hurt you, princess?”
I shouldn’t have asked. It was prying, but she answered.
“Not often. Father wouldn’t allow it because I was supposed to be perfect for whoever he gave me to.” Her hand lifted, fingers brushing across her scar. “Sometimes, Tobias got carried away. It was usually only bruises. He told me not to tell Father, and I didn’t. When I got this, it was the worst time.”
I wanted to ask what he’d done but grit my teeth against the impulse.
This wasn’t me. I wasn’t the person to ask about trauma, not when I would never talk about my own. With Kiara I wanted to know every piece of her, good or bad, broken or healed. And I wanted to rain fire on the people who’d hurt her. I wanted it more than I wanted to kill the man who’d killed my parents and maimed me.
