Page 35 of Mated Exile

Rolling my eyes, I push him towards the sidewalk that runs around the corner towards the men's clothing store. When his back is turned, I take a deep, shaky breath, and reach up to dash the two tears that roll down my cheeks, unable to hold themallin.

I wish I'd looked at him closer years ago, before everything went sideways. Maybe if I had, I wouldn't have wound up standing in the middle of the Mating Circle, crying my eyes out as my best friend and future mate rejected me.

Roarke is heartbreakingly loyal to those close to him.

The person he picked to put above everything, even his own happiness, could've been me.

If only I'd had my eyes open to the man he would one day become.

Instead I looked at the wrong boy, a boy who wasn't able to tell my fathernowhen asked to break my heart. A boy I'll always love and cherish, even as a messed-up man, but one who wasn't loyal to me in the end. And while Roarke can use words liketrueandfate,we both know that the bonds of magic tend to coalesce around those we set our sights on. If I'd turned my head towards another, maybe I would've wound up standing in the Mating Circle withhim.

Maybe he would've told my father no, and refused to reject me.

My mind mulls over the possibility as I follow Roarke towards the clothing store, but the truth is, I can't imagine much further than that. If there's a world where I was never exiled, one where I learned the truth about my nature years ago, it's not a world I can create in my mind. That alternate reality has no Cat in it, no years of learning who I was as a human, no time spent on my own scared and alone. The strength I've found beneath my fear and heartache only exists because it was forged by tragedy.

So I can't dwell on it for too long. I can only hope that there's a chance Roarke might get over his stubbornness and consider the idea that trying to be with me wouldn't necessarily destroy Kieran forever. And I have to admit, as much as I'm charmed by Finn and attracted to Lance, there's something about the shared history Roarke and I have that calls to me lately, especially now that I know more about my past. When I look at him now I see the other Delilah I could've become.

"Where do you want to start first?" Roarke asks as we walk into the clothing store, gesturing left and right. "We could pick up some formalwear for him, but somehow I doubt he needs any. Seems like sleepwear and some casual clothes would be the place to go. Maybe a few pieces of athletic wear.

"As long as it's big enough and long enough to fit him, I don't care. Let's try for the clearance rack," I tell him wearily, already calculating my next credit card bill. I'm going to have to break down and ask Cat for a loan, one I know she'll gladly give me, but the thought alone hurts my pride. "He's going to need a whole wardrobe."

Roarke glances over at me, frowning a little, but moves towards the back of the store. As we go through racks of clothing, finding little that's long enough for a man as tall as Roarke, much less Bastian, my mind keeps going back to one thing.

Earlier in the parking lot, Roarke implied that something I don't know about happened between him and Kieran. Something that's made him feel indebted to him in some way I don't understand, to such an extent that he'd do anything for his best friend, no matter what.

As he comes out of the dressing room in long sweats and a tank top, I eye him, considering. The clothes look great on him, but I mentally add Bastian in his place. The werewolf is lanky now, on his way to filling out if Cat's waffles have any say in it. Based on the way the tank practically rips on Roarke's body, I decide it won't fit, even though I can practically hear Cat's voice saucily telling me to get it anyway.

"These pants might do, but the shirt is too tight," he complains, twisting around and giving me a good look at the tanned and rippling muscles of his shoulders. "Are you sure this is a large?"

"Try this one." I throw another shirt at him, and he catches it in midair. "What's the length on those?"

"Thirty-six inches." He goes back into the dressing room to change shirts, much to my disappointment. "It's a long inseam, but we'll probably find a few more pairs like it here. Werewolf males tend to be tall."

That's an understatement. The store is empty this time of day, but it's pretty obvious that it caters to the werewolf population of the town. Signs throughout the aisles advertise the durability of certain types of clothing as well as extra-tall options.

But the clothes aren't what I want to talk about. And maybe now that he's in the dressing room, not looking into my eyes, Roarke will get careless and reveal a few things to me.

Chewing my lower lip, I dare to ask him, "Did you know Tara well?"

He pushes open the dressing room door, revealing that the blue graphic tee I threw him is big enough at least to cover Bastian, if a little ridiculous-looking with its off-center superhero logo. It has a five dollar tag on it, so I mentally add it to the pile.

"Big subject change."

"I've been thinking about the past a lot. Including Tara."

"I didn't really know her. She was Kieran's mate. At least, she almost was." He winces. "We weren't that close."

I can't just let him stop there. Getting up, I approach him and lower my voice. "You don't have to lie to me. If something happened between you and Tara, I won't judge. And I won't tell Kieran if he doesn't know about it already."

"What? No!" His eyes widen, and he shakes his head. "Nothing ever happened there. Hell, Tara barely wanted anything to happen between her and Kieran. He probably wouldn't have minded if I took her off his hands, but I—I wasn't interested."

So that's not what Roarke is guilty about after all these years. Reaching out, I place my palm on his chest, wary that he'll react poorly. But he lets me, seeming not to notice anything as I look up into his eyes.

What deep eyes they are, I reflect. His gaze holds so much more now than it did when we were kids, as if he has fathomless secrets to keep. I know that he cares for me—even if he hadn't finally admitted it today, he's made that clear in dozens of little glances and frustrated words. He holds himself back, but if I push just a little, I bet he would tell mewhy.

I want more than anything to push. To find out every single detail of the seven years of my exile. The need toknowis like a hunger in me, not just because Roarke keeps pulling away from me, but also because I need to find out what happened to Kieran to make him the broken mess he is. Knowing is the only way I'll be able to fix him.

Taking in a deep breath, I feel a strange warmth in my chest. It echoes the warmth of Roarke's body against mine as he breathes in slowly, still staring at me. In a low voice, I cautiously ask, "What happened between you and Kieran? What's this terrible secret that makes you feel like you have to give him everything, including me?"

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