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“Ky?” I can hardly bring myself to say his name.
Thorne’s warm hand reaches up to push away the fine hairs clinging to my damp cheeks. I don’t know how he can even bear to touch me. Why doesn’t this man want to take me to his warehouse of nightmares and make me suffer?
He shakes his head. “Hawke and I couldn’t do much; we had to always be so careful not to reveal ourselves. But we were lucky enough to rescue Ky before anyone could touch him.”
There’s so much pain behind his eyes, it wrenches my heart into a thousand pieces.
“I only wish there were more we could have saved.”
I can’t see through the tears spilling out of me.
I’m going to be sick.
51
Irun.
It’s cowardly, and pathetic, and I give into the impulse without a second thought.
Thorne was abused by my mother, and I want to claw my own eyeballs out. How can he not despise me for an eternity after everything he’s been through? Doesn’t the thought of me touching his skin—of me fucking him—make him want to be violently ill?
If I had dared to believe in a glimmer of hope that our future locked in this vengeful entanglement might evolve into something else, a version of a future where he perhaps one day cared for me…now I know for certain that will never be possible.
I’m going to forever be tortured by knowing that I am in love with Thorne Calliano, and he can’t love me back.
There’s too much agony that I represent.
I’m a living, breathing, flesh and blood memento of the predators who abused him and his brother. Seeing as they’re dead, all that is left as a constant reminder of what the Callianos have endured, is me.
Hot tears blur my vision. I don’t know where I’m going. My bare feet carry me as far away from Thorne’s office as fast as possible. Maybe I won’t stop until I reach the ravine deep in this forest, and I’ll hurl myself down there just to solve the pain ripping my men apart once and for all.
I’m blinded by the rage and shame and disgust crawling beneath my skin when I collide with an immovable force.
The scents of woodsmoke and the forest weave around me.
My wolf stares down at me, bracing my shoulders with firm hands.
His eyes narrow as he takes in my tear-stained appearance and shivering limbs.
“I can’t be here.” Please. Don’t force me to stay. I need to be able to breathe, and oh, so utterly selfishly I want to be able to forget, and I can’t do any of that with the walls currently closing in on me.
The living nightmare of my bloodline.
Raven glances in the direction I’ve just come from, but I can’t bear to look back to see if Thorne has followed me. The expression on the face of the man before me doesn’t change, he gives nothing away, simply turns and drags me along behind him.
His grip is rough and biting, circling my wrist tight.
We’re out the front door and moving toward his bike before I know what is happening. The biting air nips at my bare legs, and the chill of the ground amplifies the numbness already filling every part of me.
But I don’t care about my state of undress, or whether I’m going to freeze to death out here surrounded by banks of fog and the oppressively tall pine trees looming like silent giants overhead.
All I can think of is how useless and insignificant I am. My life is the byproduct of foul perversions, and knowing the truth of the lineage I was born into leaves my throat hot and prickly as I struggle to keep down the rising bile.
Tattooed hands shove a helmet onto me, adding to the sensory overload when I inhale an overdose of his masculine, woodsy scent. The forest in my line of vision sways, and through the visor, there’s a glimpse of Raven swinging his leg over the seat as his dirt bike roars to life. I’ve never been on a motorbike before, but I scramble on behind him. Cold leather bites the backs of my thighs, and for a brief moment, I worry that my bare toes are going to get lacerated by the gleaming metal of the wheels.
Raven leans down and steadies my feet on the footholds before grabbing my arms and wrapping them tight around him. Does my presence feel cloying and foul? I’m assaulted by fears that he can’t stand the thought of my touch either.
Not bothering with a helmet for himself, he simply revs the engine and floors the accelerator. We shoot off at a frightening speed. A terrifying slingshot into orbit. The forest rushes toward us, and I slam my eyes shut. Icy wind slices through to the marrow of my bones, and if we crash, I’ll be mincemeat on the ground with only a flimsy cotton tee and my underwear to protect my fall.
