Chapter 9 #3
I’ve known my whole life that my parents’ priorities don’t include me, but I naively keep hoping they’ll change. That one day they’ll be as excited to see me as Jet’s parents always are when the pack visits. I really should know better by now.
My mother was talking for so long that Bryn has finished the dishes. He dries his hands and crosses the room to sit next to me on the sofa, angling himself to face me.
‘You okay?’ he asks, his eyes showing concern.
I tip my head sideways to look at him properly. ‘Are you close to your parents?’
His hand movements are hesitant. ‘My mum and I were, before. Never with my dad. I haven’t heard from them since my trial.’
I sit up straighter, regretting my question. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.’
‘It’s fine. Are you, with yours?’
I’m not sure how fine he is so I let it drop, not wanting to push.
‘Not really. My parents are diplomats for the BSG. I was raised by a series of nannies—a new one in every country, which was anywhere from every six to eighteen months. The only good thing my parents really did for me was hire a tutor who taught me the local language each time. It made constantly moving schools a bit easier.’
‘That seems…’ He frowns, his hands dropping.
‘Lonely? It was. I learnt how to be friendly and likeable—Dhiren, basically. But it wasn’t until I met Ethan that I discovered what true friendship is. He was this young, hot-headed alpha, swearing every five seconds, and so upfront about everything. The total opposite of everyone I’d ever known.’
I’m aware I’m confiding in Bryn because he has the same sense of realness about him, the rawness people have when what you see is what you get. He watches me with a patient focus, like he genuinely wants to know everything.
‘I’ve missed them. My pack.’ My chest gets tight just thinking about it, but I keep going.
It might help to share this with someone.
‘I usually see them every day. Undercover though, contact is extremely limited. I still wouldn’t have seen them in person since I started work at Far Out Freight if it weren’t for the explosion.
And my parents are supposed to be visiting next month for the Festival of Light, but that might not happen, and I’m just really glad you’re here. ’
My eyes burn so I blink a few times and lower my gaze while I compose myself. There’s sharing, and then there’s oversharing.
He moves his leg so his knee is lightly touching mine, drawing my attention. ‘Tell me about this festival.’
Even through two layers of denim, there’s a warmth coming from him that I crave after having it wrapped around me for the last few nights.
‘It’s the way tiger shifters celebrate the spring equinox, the coming of the lighter months in the northern hemisphere.
In certain countries the festival lasts for days.
My pack have always celebrated it with me whenever we’ve not been on active duty, but I thought this would finally be the year when I’d get to spend it with my parents.
I want to show them my new home city, have them meet the people who matter in my life.
You know, in all these years, Ethan’s the only one of my pack they’ve met? ’
I know family doesn’t necessarily mean the people who gave you life, and that I have a strong pack who love me unconditionally. I just can’t help longing for the parental love I’ve never had.
Bryn’s hand movements are gentle. ‘Want a hug?’
I really, really do. At my nod, he lifts his arm so I can snuggle in, my head on his shoulder, arm around his waist. He hugs me to him, his other hand softly stroking up and down my arm.
The feeling of safety and affection I get from his embrace is always the same, no matter whether he’s in his dragon form petting me as a tiger, or we’re lying in bed. It’s the main reason I’ve felt able to open up to him now.
I tip my head to look up at him, his lips achingly close, his eyes searching mine. I know if I kissed him he’d be over the moon, but would it be fair to him when I don’t know if it can go anywhere between us?
Well, there’s one way to solve that. I straighten, pulling away from him.
He drops his arm, tipping his head back with a sharp exhale. Then he schools his expression and lifts his hands. ‘Better?’
‘Why did you assault Lance that day?’ Last time I asked he clearly didn’t want to talk about it, but we’d just met. I’m hoping he gives me an answer this time.
He tenses. ‘What the fuck?’
I don’t take the question back, even when my tiger snarls at me for making Bryn unhappy. ‘It matters.’
His eyes harden. ‘Is this why you’ve been holding back? Don’t want to date an ex-offender?’
I get to my feet, needing space. ‘Give me a break, I’m a member of the task force.’
He stands up as well, his hands snapping. ‘Too good for me?’
My hand movements are just as sharp. ‘You know I don’t think that. You think I just did interpreting work in the SAS? Talked to a few people? Never got my hands dirty?’
‘Then why does it matter? I’ve got a criminal record either way. Lost my career, my dragon flight, my parents, even my fucking hoard. Now you’re telling me I’ll never stand a chance with you, no matter what I do.’ He turns and heads for the hall, cutting off any reply.
I don’t think so. I stalk after him, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him into the wall, his back hitting with a loud thud.
‘It matters because I want to let you fuck me into next week, and I can’t do that if you’re a racist dickhead who committed a hate crime.
If you had a good reason, I will defend you to anyone and everyone. If not…’
My hands drop, my chest heaving. I’ve barely left enough space between us to sign, but I don’t move back because there’s finally some deliberation in those silvery-blue eyes.
He lifts his hands slowly. ‘I was protecting my sister. She was fourteen.’
A lot of pieces that didn’t make sense fall into place, but there’s one that doesn’t. ‘Why did you end up in prison instead of Lance?’
His eyes grow cold. ‘Because his lawyer was fae, the judge was fae, the jury were bought, and they even insisted on a fae interpreter for me during both our trials. It was never going to go any other way.’
I nod slowly. I’d obviously like more details, but he’s told me what I need to know.
All I can think about now is how desperately I want to kiss him, and I’ve run out of reasons to deny us both the pleasure.
It no longer seems to matter that being with him would break some of my dating rules, or that I’ve been holding out for my fated mate.
All that matters is the heat of his body, the plumpness of his lips, and whether my intrusive questions have pushed him away.
I step forward and press my body against his, searching his face to check that he still wants this.
His eyes flare with heat and drop to my lips.
He grips my hips, his fingers reaching for the hem of my shirt and sliding it up just enough to find the skin above my belt.
He strokes gently, gaze now locked on mine, studying my reaction.
Time to take away that hint of doubt in his expression. I slot my thigh between his legs, grip the back of his head, and slam my lips down on his.