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This weak, helpless thing held a power over him that he couldn’t understand.
She opened her little mouth, one side of her lip lifting higher than the other, and a small growl escaped her tiny body.
His tiger cub.
He was held in thrall just then. He couldn’t look away. Couldn’t pull away at all.
What was this feeling?
And more important, why did his mother not feel it for him?
Because one thing he knew for sure, feeling this on one side was absolutely the worst fate that could ever befall a man.
Because it didn’t matter that his mother had been so distant, it didn’t matter that she had hit him for throwing her birthday party. It didn’t matter that she had overdosed and died and left him.
He had loved her still.
And no amount of telling himself he shouldn’t, no amount of mourning could bring her back. It was pain. Utter, gut-wrenching pain. The kind that you didn’t recover from.
And he would be damned if he ever gave anyone that kind of power over him ever again.
He couldn’t.
It would be a blessing. That this was done now. Because Isabella would never remember him.
And someday, Minerva would find a man who could give her everything she wanted.
Already that thought hurt too much.
He laid Isabella down in the crib, comforted by the fact that she would have no memory of ever having held him.
But as he walked out of the room, he could still feel the impression of her tiny body cradled in his arms.
And he knew that he would never be able to forget.
