Page 65 of Vicious Luna

It's so ridiculous that it’d be funny if it wasn’t happening tome.

Come to think of it, being locked away in this room might be the only thing preserving my sanity at the moment. With only these four walls to stare at, I’ve had plenty of time to think… though admittedly, I’m still struggling with whether it’s even worth trying to wrap my head around what I am or whether I should just end it all. I mean, what’s the fucking point? My mom’s dead and gone. The man who raised me isn’t even really my father, and he’s completely turned his back on me. The only other person I had was Ben, but he’s dead now, too. I have nothing and no one.

“Do you know who your real dad was?” Avery asks, gazing at me thoughtfully.

I shake my head. “No clue. I mean, my mom kept a lot of secrets. I always kinda got the feeling we were running from something since we moved so often, and now I guess it makes sense. But I still don’t get how she even knew about werewolves in the first place, or how she got involved with one. Something bad must’ve happened to send her running scared.”

“Maybe she was just scared of what she couldn't understand,” Avery suggests.

“Or maybe he threatened her.”

She shrugs a shoulder. “It’s possible.” She pauses, tilting her head in contemplation. “Do youwantto know who he was? I mean, even if you don’t want a relationship with your bio-dad, maybe he could help shed light on some things and fill in the gaps for you.”

I blow out a shallow breath, scrubbing a hand over my face. “I wouldn't even know where to begin looking.”

“I could help, if you wanted. A couple of my girlfriends are IT geniuses. They could do some digging, maybe at least figureout where your mom was living around the time you were conceived. If we can pinpoint the pack in the area, we could reach out to them and see if anyone knows anything.”

“Guess it’s worth a shot,” I shrug.

She nods, and the ensuing silence that falls between us feels oppressively stifling.

“Is it my question again?” I ask, desperate to move past the topic of my family- or lack thereof- and onto something that doesn’t make me want to put a bullet in my brain.

“Sure,” she replies, uncrossing her legs and re-crossing them the opposite way.

My gaze lingers a little too long on those legs before it lifts to meet hers again. “How long are you gonna keep me locked up?”

“That depends,” she muses. “If the info you’re giving me checks out, then it’d probably be safe to let you out.” Her lips curve into a devious smirk. “Though I think you should probably put in at least two weeks’ penance down here, like I did in your cell. Maybe even longer since I had to find my own way out. That sounds fair, right? How long were you planning on keeping me, anyways?”

I arch a brow. “Honestly?”

She nods.

“As long as I could. While you were locked up, you were safe.”

“Safe?” she scoffs.

“You saw what happened when Griff and Adams got into your cell,” I say, scowling. “They're not the only ones in The Guild who are like that. They’re all a little fucked up.”

She cocks a brow. “But you’re not?”

“I’m just fucked up in a different way.”

She snorts a laugh, tossing her hair back. “Aren’t we all?”

We stare into each other’s eyes, some silent understanding passing between us. She’s seen the depths of my depravity while holding her prisoner. I’ve seen her volatility while beinglocked up with nothing to lose. We’ve both given each other our worst, and the fact that we can even stand to look at one another only speaks to the level of fucked up we both must be.

“Do you regret it?” she asks, wetting her lips with her tongue.

That simple action sends my brain spiraling. Suddenly I’m remembering exactly how those lips looked wrapped around my cock, how that tongue felt swirling against my shaft as she sucked me to the back of her throat. “Regret what?” I choke out, shifting my weight on the chair as I reach down to subtly adjust myself in the borrowed sweatpants I’m wearing.

“Kidnapping me,” she clarifies. “Think about it, if you never did, then maybe your life would still be perfect. You’d still be a hunter, still have a dad…”

“And I’d still turn sometime,” I finish for her. “I’d still be living a lie.”

She chews on the inside of her cheek, her gaze flickering away. “Maybe not.”

“I don’t have time for regrets,” I mutter ruefully. “Can’t change it now.”

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