“I am Connor’s second,” Sam growls, shifting to a defensive posture. “I answer only to him. You have done nothing to earn my respect.”
With my magic eager within me, I slam my hands together. “Enough!”
Before anyone can respond, I open my hands like I’m parting a sea, sending everyone and everything flying into the walls. “All of you, go. Connor is my mate. He is mine to protect and care for.”
Without waiting for objections or permission, I march down the hall, growing a thick wall of ice behind me. Doing my best to release my anger and frustration over the barriers that stood in my way, I approach the door that has a pewter placard featuring a bust of an intimidating wolf. After knocking gently, I slowly open the door.
The bedroom is dark, both in color and in the fleeting sunlight that barely crawls through the French doors leading out to a private balcony. Connor sits on the edge of a massive four-poster bed that has thick forest green curtains tied to the posts. His head is bowed, his hands are curled over his knees, and his gaze is lost to the internal demons only he can see. My heart bleeds for him and the abandoned boy who spent too many years knowing so much pain.
Walking with soft steps on the hardwood floors, I approach his troubled form and place my hand against his cheek. “Mi lobo, I can feel your pain. Why do you suffer alone in here?”
As if drifting from a dream, his amber eyes meet mine. “The renovations are finished. I am the alpha. These rooms are mine.”
“That doesn’t mean…” The sentence dies on my lips as a vision of a different man lost to despair takes Connor’s place.
He has the same dark brown hair that Connor does, except his loose curls are cut short. His face, more than twenty years younger since I last saw it, doesn’t yet hold the familiar cruelty. So much of Connor’s features are mirrored in that face.Pity I don’t want to feel wells up inside me as I watch the way he quietly breaks. Beside him is a woman ravaged by illness who is sleeping beneath the bed’s thick blankets.
Dressed in scrubs, a twenty-something Martina finishes an injection into the sleeping woman’s IV. Compassion is etched on her features as she observes the man who will one day be her future husband. “She’ll sleep soundly for the rest of the morning. You should get something to eat and maybe take a shower. It’ll make you feel better.”
Connor’s father shakes his head, his gaze fixed on his dying mate. “I can’t leave her.”
Connor’s mother walks over to his side and places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know how hard it is to watch someone you love fall prey to cancer. It breaks your soul, but no matter how much it hurts, you can’t check out. You have twin boys who need you.”
“They look so much like her,” he whispers, his voice tight within the straining barrier of unshed tears.
“All the more reason to take care of yourself so you can take care of them,” she replies with a gentle squeeze of his shoulder. “She lives on within them.”
Suddenly, I’m jerked out of the vision to the sounds of Connor shouting my name. He’s no longer sitting. Instead, he towers over me as he shakes me by my shoulders.
“It’s okay,” I slur, trying to readjust to the here and now. “I’m fine, I promise.”
Connor bends over, cupping my face in his big hands, and stares searchingly. “What happened,mi reina? You were here, and then I couldn’t reach you.”
Tears sting my eyes as I fight to keep them from falling. That monster doesn’t deserve my sympathies, since trauma doesn’t excuse cruelty, but it’s time to let go of another one of my secrets, the side effects too obvious to hide from Connor any longer.
Clearing my throat, I hold his gaze with stubborn determination. “What I’m about to tell you isn’t your fault. Do you understand? This isn’t your fault.”
Doubt swims within the dark shadows of his amber eyes, but he nods in response.
Sweat collects on the nape of my neck as an anxious swarm of bees bounces around in my stomach. I don’t want him to take on this burden of knowledge that will only hurt him, but he is my mate. He deserves the right to care for me, as I do for him.
“Since the night I… destroyed all elements of the old alpha’s existence, I feel the stain of him on my soul,” I explain carefully, trying to find the words to describe something I don’t fully understand. “I think it’s the price of using my power to destroy a soul. All that he was and all that he could have been haunt me.” I sniff as I lose the battle against my tears. “I get visions of his memories, especially the places that seemed to have left lasting impressions.”
Shock, horror, and deep shame flows from him into me. “Have you seen…”
I put my hands over his. “Yes. I saw what he did to you.” Turning my head, I place a soft kiss against his palm. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. What he did wasn’t your fault. He started when you were a kid, too small to fight back, and then wore you down until it felt like there was no escape.” I hold his gaze so he can see that the darkness that lives inside him alsolives within me. “I know what it’s like to feel helpless against them and begin to wonder if you deserve the pain.”
Connor sweeps me up into his arms and carries me out onto the balcony. Unbeknownst to me, it’s not as private as I originally thought. Around the far corner, it leads to a second set of French doors—doors that open to my personal suite.
Briskly crossing the threshold, he strides to my bed, one that’s gloriously creepy flashbacks free since it’s brand-new and custom made as a welcome gift from the pack. With one hand, he pulls back the thick, white comforter and drags us both underneath it.
Lying on his back, he holds me tightly against his chest. Into the quiet of the room, he whispers, “I should have killed him long before you had to.”
I run my fingers down his side, the ribbed texture of his tank top soft from several washes. “I don’t regret killing him and leaving nothing left. Hell was too good for him. Even knowing what the consequences are, I’d still do it.”
He reaches under my T-shirt and starts massaging the tight muscles of my lower back. “Is it all the time while you’re here?”
I shake my head. “You would have known much sooner if it was all the time. Some rooms hold more memories of him. Sometimes it’s just a feeling, an echo, of the ugliness that lived inside him. Occasionally, I get the full vision.”
