Page 14 of Drowned By the Dreadnought

She’s the bravest, most resilient, sweetest female on this godforsaken dystopian planet, and knowing I’ll cause her more pain kills me, but this is for the better. I don’t want to relive the worst day of my life, but for her, I’ll suffer through it as many times as she needs to hear it.

This is the first step toward our happily ever after.

She’s the only one I’ve ever wanted. She owns my heart.

I was an idiot to give her up, and I was an asshole for believing anything that came out of her father’s mouth.

I’ll never let her go again.

She’s mine.

Chapter 5

Morwenna

“Drink first,” he demands.

Part of me wants to shove his arm away and refuse to eat or drink anything until he’s done telling me his lies, but a larger part of me wants to avoid the upcoming conversation as long as possible.

When he holds the crystal-clear glass in front of me, my mind falls silent.

I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. No wonder he had no qualms dirtying the water in the shower. The purity of what’s in the glass is on another level. No minerals. No rust. It’s so clear the fridge’s imperfections show clearly through it.

Thirst grips me. I reach for the glass.

He growls and tilts the rim to my lips. I wrap my hand over his and moan in delight as the cool liquid soothes my raw throat. His gentle purr vibrates through me, and I consume the entire glass as quickly as he allows, but I nearly choke with fear when I open my eyes and see the hunger in his gaze.

The last time he looked at me with interest, I learned the true meaning of humiliation.

I push the glass away and pull the towel tighter around me before scowling up at him.

He said he didn’t want to leave me, but he wasn’t there when I needed him most. My exposed heart aches. I want to believe him, but my father’s voice echoes in my ears. The doubts my sire planted years ago have deep roots.

Russt refills the glass, but I grind my teeth and glare up at him, daring him to offer it to me as fear and fury build in my veins. I can’t handle his silence for another second, not when so much tension hangs in the air.

He deciphers the message within my expression and leaves the glass on the table as he speaks.

“Your parents fought often, but—”

“No, they didn’t. He protected her from his rivals, that’s why she was always hurt.”

“Then why was she so cautious around him?”

“Because he was bigger and stronger than she was.”

“I was bigger and stronger than you were, too. Were you ever afraid of me? Before this, I mean.”

I scowl harder, angry at how easily he wrecks my defenses.

A muscle ticks in his jaw. I grip the towel so hard my fingers ache.

“Your father was a violent alpha who was never satisfied with what he had. Your mother couldn’t trust him, so she never left you alone with him, and she always made sure you weren’t around when they fought,” he says.

He challenges me to deny it, but I can’t. As I wrack my memories and realize Russt is right—I never spent time alone with my father until after my mom was gone—he picks up the glass and drinks it without offering it to me.

Did I ever really know my father as a child, or were my fond memories of him a result of my mother’s lies?

Russt’s Adam’s apple bobs as he finishes the water. My core clenches as he swings intense eyes down at me, imploring me to understand as he struggles to control himself.

---