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“So, what happened?”
“This is a tale best left until you’ve proven her—” Eric jerked his chin toward Loren, “to be relevant. Until then, I’m not saying another damn thing. I’ve piqued your interest. Now go.”
He withdrew a slip of paper from his pocket and placed it on the table. Then, he stood and headed for the door.
Rather than challenge him, Bill watched him go. The man had some damn nerve treating him like an errand boy—not that he was in any position to argue. “How do we contact you again?” he called out, snatching the folded note. All it contained was an address to a location north of Elkton.
“You won’t,” the man said without looking back. “If what you said is the truth, I will reach out to you first.”
With that, he exited the bar. Even if he wanted to follow, Bill suspected that he wouldn’t be able to. Scolera tricks or not, the man was good.
27
Loren sighed while gazing from the passenger window of the truck. McGoven must have broken something in her brain while retrieving her memories. She felt… Different. Her usual urge to cower and hide had been replaced by something else. Insanity? A need to speak up unprompted. Talk back. Even now, she longed to question McGoven more thoroughly, especially when it seemed like he wouldn’t speak at all.
Once again, he had played coy, obscured information, and taken charge of her life—even though most of this new information pertained to her. Her mother.Herpast.
She didn’t even know what to think. After years of obscurity, her mother’s memory was coming into clearer focus, robbing her of the tragic mystic Loren had always thought of her with. Now, Eveline Connors was more of an enigma—a lycan with a tormented past of her own.
Loren craved to know more. About Eveline. About who her father might be. About everything.
Confounding her irritation, McGoven remained stubbornly silent on the drive to the meeting place, his attention focused solely on the road. Barely a few hours since her blowup in the woods, and things between them felt so stilted, and yet so…
Unbalanced. It was hard to process her thoughts. Confusion, she would understand. After everything they’d been through, no one could expect her to completely reconcile her feelings toward him so quickly.
The guilt, however… It didn’t seem fair that she was the one left stewing in that particular emotion. Especially when he seemed so unaffected by the million unspoken issues hanging overhead.
What better time than now to address them?
She cleared her throat. “You didn’t tell me that he was the one who told you about my mother.”
“I didn’t,” he acknowledged tersely. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kept that from you. I just…”
“Wanted to protect me,” she finished, parroting his trademark line. Though, had that always been the full truth? If not, it no longer mattered. He’d said so himself. “You don’t have to anymore. I can take care of myself.”
“You’re angry about more than that,” McGoven suspected, easily seeing to the heart of her emotions. Apparently, he didn’t need a mating bond to read her like a book. “You have every right to be. Don’t hold back now. Let’s address it all.”
“Fine.” She turned to him while he kept his gaze on the road.
A tendril of moonlight illuminated his features, highlighting just how stern the set of his mouth was. Her belly flipped in foreboding, but she took a breath and blurted the paramount realization weighing on her mind.
“You didn’t tell me the truth. That you… About what you did. Why?”
He seemed to wince, though it could have been a trick of the light. Otherwise, his body remained tense, angled over the steering wheel. “I didn’t think you would be able to understand.”
The answer wasn’t quite what she expected.
“I’m eighteen. I understand what mating is—”
“Not like that. I meant…it was too much to lay on you so soon after your father’s death. You didn’t deserve that kind of a burden.” His voice hoarsened, and her heart lurched.
“It wasn’t your job to protect me.”
But he had anyway. The memories were so real now, clear, and distinct. Perusing them was terrifying, but she had no choice—though one image, in particular, made her palms slick with icy sweat.
“I’m the one who killed him. Fred Connors. You kept that from me?”
“Yes,” he admitted, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “And more. Whatever might…upset you. I only ever intended it as a temporary measure. The mating bond allows that level of control between mates. Even mentally.”
