I search Grim’s eyes for answers, and he licks his top lip. “I don’t have an explanation for why you were starving, Damiana, but when I fed you, it turned you into a beacon for them. I didn’t even realize it until I came back one night and found you playing with a Deep One.”
“A Deep One?” I scan my thoughts for what he could be referring to.
“Little girl, white dress, comes from the bottom of the ocean,” Grim explains, describing one of my childhood friends.
“You mean Cece,” I correct him.
He closes his eyes on a long blink. “I observed you with her. You two played together for hours, and you smiled.” Grim watches me intently.
“I haven’t seen her in years,” I muse. I’d almost forgotten about her. She did tell me she came from the sea, and as young as I was, I didn’t understand, so I just started calling her Cece.
“I’m sorry I didn’t protect you—”
“Protect me? From Cece?” I interrupt Grim. Reaching over, I grab hold of his arm. It’s the first time I actually feel gratitude toward him since he told me they were supposed to be my guardians. “Don’t ever apologize for that. Without her and Uncle, I would have gone insane.”
Grim’s mouth thins to a slash. “You shouldn’t have needed me to feed you. That part of you should have been dormant until you were much older.” He doesn’t do as good of a job maintaining his calm demeanor now.
I drop my hand from his arm and let his words sink in. I should have been a normal child. The idea of what could have been—how different my life would have been—sends a pang to my chest, but then I wouldn’t have Uncle, Redmon, or Aeson. I can’t imagine a life without them. I never felt like I was part of my birth family anyway. I always secretly thought I was adopted.
“You should have told us she almost died,” Gunnar insists, unaware of my thoughts.
Grim comes to his feet. “Why? Couldyouhave done something to change it?” His voice booms with several layers at once, his calm exterior shattered.
Gunnar lets out a hissing breath. “No, yet you should have told us. She’s not just yours!”
“Shut up,” I mutter angrily.
The bickering continues. “It was a big deal. You should have told us,” Calix agrees, taking Gunnar’s side.
“See? Even the animal gets it.” Gunnar throws his hand in Calix’s direction.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” I slap my hands on the island again, while getting to my feet. “What the fuck is wrong with you people?” I trade a glance with each of them. Grim is the only one of them that meets my stare. Gunnar suddenly finds the floor very interesting, while Calix is pretending to examine the few boxes and bags still on the counter.
“Can you for, like, five fucking minutes, not think about yourselves?” I ask rather calmly. “Would that be okay? So maybe I could get some fucking answers?” The calm doesn’t last, though. By the end of my statement, my sarcasm is on full display, and I’m shouting again.
Chapter 15
“Grim, please.” I roll my wrist in an effort to tell him to continue. My hands are trembling, and my insides feel a little like Jello.
I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I have Grim to thank for my entire existence. Without him, I wouldn’t have survived infancy.
“I failed to keep you safe,” Grim admits again without hesitation.
“No, you didn’t, and that’s not what I want to hear. Feel sorry for yourself later. I want to know why—if you saved me—you didn’t show yourself to me. Why didn’t you ever stick around long enough to give me an explanation?” I demand.
Grim takes a shallow breath. “I feared it would leave you even more open to other supernatural threats. I monitored the beings that visited you. I knew they had no intention of ever seeing you hurt: they were drawn to you, they protected you.” Grim lifts his palms a little and his lips tighten into a thin line. “I didn’t know what the consequence of my visits would be. I had no idea if your mind or your body would withstand all of this information. Humans aren’t supposed to see into our world the way you do.”
“I’m not human,” I nearly spit, taking offense. Humans are weak and shallow.
“No, but when you were born, you should have been as fragile and naive as a human,” Grim reasons with me. “Children are more open to the supernatural world around them, so I thought if I let you grow up, you would forget about the nightmares that visited you, until it was time for you to awaken. I was trying to protect you.”
I plop back against the stool, not really sitting, but still needing it to lean against to stay on my feet. “I never forgot them, not any of them,” I inform Grim. After a brief pause, I add, “Fine, whatever. I can almost understand your reasoning, even if I think it’s stupid, but why wait so long?” I include the others in the conversation now. “I’m thirty years old, old enough to know the truth about myself, to haveawakened, or whatever the hell you called it.”
Calix takes a few steps closer until he’s just opposite me on the other side of the island. “We really did think you would seek one of us out. We all agreed that three mates would be too much.”
I let out an unladylike snort. “Speak for yourselves.” I plant my hands on my hips.
Calix continues as if I didn’t just challenge him and interrupt him in one sentence. “Have you ever felt like you were missing something, someone?”
