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A flush went through her. “It’s just because you think you know me and you don’t. If you knew… where I come from, you would know that I’ve survived so much worse than the truth you live in and what you do to keep us all safe.”
Those eyebrows sank down low, making him look positively evil. “Who hurt you.”
Not a question. And she had the very clear thought that if her birth sire were still alive, L.W. would have hunted the male down and hurt him. Very badly.
“He’s dead.” She kicked her chin up. “My father killed him.”
“Good.”
“You don’t mean that,” she chided.
L.W. seemed surprised again. Then he laughed in a low rumble. “Are you always so honest?”
“Only when people try to hide. And you are too strong a male to have to take cover behind falsities.”
“Even if they’re for someone else’s benefit?”
“Not mine,” she countered. “You don’t have to buffer any kind of truth for me. I will say it again. I am not afraid of you.”
L.W. crossed his arms over his chest, his pecs flexing underneath his skintight muscle shirt. As the hollows under his cheekbones undulated, it was clear he was grinding his molars.
“You’re right,” he said after a moment. “I wish whoever hurt you was still alive.”
“So you could take him to his grave yourself.”
“Yeah.” He reached out and stroked back a streamer of hair from her face. “People like you shouldn’t be hurt.”
Dearest Lassiter, he was so close, and the proximity made her feel like she was seeing him for the first time. He was as his father was, as her adoptive sire was, as the members of the Black Dagger Brotherhood had always been: A killer. A predator.
Under the veil of what civilized him to some degree was an animal.
“No one should be hurt,” she intoned gravely.
His lips flattened in disagreement. “That’s a dangerous lie, Bitty. And if you know what I’m like and what I do, you know I’m right—”
All at once, her body stiffened, and her vision went dark as her eyes rolled back. The last thing she was aware of was her own voice, speaking in the Old Language:
“Be of care with thine anger, Little Wrath. Your wrath shall be the death of us all.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I thought I’d check on you.”
As Nalla’smahmenspoke up, Rahvyn backed off into the living room. And the female must have gone down to the basement because there was a clicking sound as a door was shut.
“Fresh cookies?” Bella asked as she hovered in the archway. “How nice. May I have one?”
Oddly, Nalla noticed the wool coat first. It was red and black, the colors alternating in big squares that shouldn’t have worked, but really did, especially with the red scarf around her neck and her black slacks. Her hair, which was a rich chestnut, was shiny and bouncy, cut in a long bob that no doubt would be left to grow out so that come spring it would be down between her shoulder blades and ready to be pulled back for the summer’s heat.
The female was tired. There were shadows under those blue eyes, and sadness in them, too.
Coming to attention, Nalla cleared her throat and pushed the plate forward on the counter. “Of course. There’s plenty.”
“They smell so good.”
Bella came forward and peeled off her coat. Laying the folds on the back of one of the chairs at the long table, she rubbed her bare hands together and seemed to force a smile.
“It’s cold tonight,” she said as she inspected the plate. “My cheeks are windburned and I wasn’t out on the porch for long at all.”
