Page 50 of Mated Exile

At least Bastian is here. His solid form fills more space than expected. I can't figure out why I'm unable to read him with my powers, but I watched him all day, and he never raised my suspicions with anything he said or did. Maybe I just don't know how to use them very well yet—that might explain why I keep getting this feeling as if I'm being watched by something distantly malevolent when there's no one around.

There's a knock at the door, and I open it up to find Kieran standing on the front porch, the evening sun shining through the curls of his auburn brown hair and setting it aflame. His honey brown eyes meet mine, and he licks his lips, nervously shifting his weight back and forth.

"I know I'm early," he says, at the same moment I tell him, "You're early."

An awkward silence falls, and he adds, "I wanted to talk to you before the others show up."

Clutching my mug of tea between my hands, I give him a nod of assent—and step out of the house. "Cat and Bastian are watching television. If we want privacy, it's probably easier to get it out here."

"That's fine." He studies me, his eyes roaming my face, then falling to my hair. "That color—it looks more vibrant."

"I refreshed it last night." Reaching behind my shoulder, I run my fingers through the maroon locks, which are silken smooth from the conditioning dye. "It's my signature thing."

"It suits you." Taking a deep breath, he motions towards the space between us, and I feel the air stir. "Everything happened so fast. We haven't really talked about what almost happened between us."

"No, we haven't."

"And we never had that discussion we were supposed to have." He grimaces. "I came to your house to talk to you, and instead..."

"We almost fucked against a wall, then a bunch of vampires attacked? Yeah, I remember." Kieran stares at me steadily, though his cheeks warm with something like embarrassment. "I guess if Finn hadn't stopped us, we would be bonded right now."

He swallows, his throat bobbing up and down. "And you'd be stuck dealing with the feral wolf inside me that wants to destroy everything."

Shaking his head, he tells me, "I'm a piece of work, Delilah. Yet I still want to be with you. Every fiber of my being calls out to you. How can I show you that I can change and become the man you deserve?"

Studying him, I take a deep breath, and catch the scent of him, sweet like berries, spiced like rum. The wolf inside me stirs, and heat pools in my belly. I take a step towards him, almost unaware of my movements, and reach out a hand to graze his arm.

Static follows wherever our skin meets, surging to the surface and setting my nerves on fire. I shiver and withdraw my touch, uncertain what I want, and if the man standing in front of me is someone I want it from.

"Staying sober is a start," I tell him, searching his eyes and glad to see that they're clear, the pupil small and black. "And you could tell me everything. All about what happened seven years ago that made you turn your back on me, why you did it and how it went down."

He seems to visibly draw himself together, straightening his spine and staring down at me with those deep eyes. "Your father came to me the day before we were going to become intended. He reminded me that I could change my mind—I told him I wouldn't. Then he told me that Ihadto reject you.

"He demanded that I do it during the ceremony, and said that if I didn't, he would exile me from the pack himself, strip me bare and tie me to the foot of the mountains. I asked him why, but he said it was for my own good, and that was it."

"He never gave you any details? No explanation, nothing?"

Kieran's mouth thins, and he shakes his head. "When you couldn't shift, I thought that was it. He must have known you didn't have a wolf, and he was... sparing me or something. Then he said he was going to exile you, and at first I thought Niall and Queenie would convince him not to. By the time I realized it was actually happening, you were already in that pickup truck, driving down the road.

"I tried to follow, but William—he grabbed me and stopped me, nearly tore my shoulder out with his teeth. Afterwards I asked Aunt Queenie why he did that, and she just said that he felt it was for the best, and he'd decided you were better off on your own. She tried to find you, but I guess she died before she could track you down."

I swallow, a strange sorrow filling me. My stepmom and I were never close, but she left a shadow in her wake the day she died. I'll never forget the sound of her voice on that day, raised in frustration:"You don't have to do this! Just give her a chance."

She wasn't the only one who argued on my behalf. Niall did too, though it didn't last long. The instant my father turned on them and bared the full weight of his influence on their shoulders, they both accepted his judgment. Maybe that was the alpha inside him, just like the alpha inside Roarke and the powers within me.

After a long moment of silence, Kieran asks, "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that my father was a real asshole sometimes," I tell him bluntly. He glances away, and a stray auburn curl falls into his face. Unable to stop myself, I step forward and brush it aside, shivering at the touch of his warmth beneath my fingertips. "You were just a kid. We both were. And he put so much on your shoulders—all because he couldn't face the truth of my heritage."

"I could've said no," Kieran murmurs, as my thumb brushes against his temple. "Maybe if I had, he would've thought differently. Or we could've at least run away together—then you wouldn't have been alone."

My heart aches at the thought, and I shake my head. "He wouldn't have let you do that."

"But I could've tried. I wish that I had."

"So do I," I admit, taking a step towards him. "We can't look towards the past forever, though. There are too many could-have-beens for that."

He reaches out a hand and curves it against my waist, his lashes curving downwards as his eyelids flutter, and I watch him lick his lips, the brush of his tongue against the pink flesh sending shivers through me. This close I can smell the sweetness of his scent, like sticky maple syrup, and feel the surging warmth of his wolf beneath his skin, calling to the wolf in mine.

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