Page 136 of Mates: Posy

He snorted and shook his head.

"Hemade me that way, the hypocrite. Anyway, long story short, it pissed me off and I wanted to do something to piss him off, too. He hates tattoos, so of course it had to be a full-sleeve one, and I wanted something that would stick in his craw, you know? If he thought I was an emotionless robot, I'd show him just how much of one I was inside."

His chuckle was dark and angry, and I held still in his arms.

This was the most I'd ever heard him say at one time, and it was all about himself. Heneveropened up, so I froze, afraid if I moved that he'd stop talking, and I wanted him to drain out as much poison from this wound as possible.

"Eighteen-year-old boys don't handle their anger so well, Posy."

My heart pinched at the pleading look in his eyes. Was he begging for understanding or acceptance?

Both, Lark whispered.

Swift tears flowed down my face and dripped off my chin.

"Aw, Posy. Don't do that. It was me being young and dumb." He pulled his t-shirt up and wiped my face with it. "Listen, I don't want to talk about my father right now. I don't want to waste a second of my time with you discussing that train wreck."

"You can't bottle things up, Mason. It's not healthy, and you deserve the time to tell someone your worries and have them listen to you."

"We can talk about it later, but not today, okay, baby?"

"Okay." Knowing he needed a topic change, I ran my fingers over his right arm. "What about the dragon tattoo? Is there a story behind it, too?"

"No, I saw it in a book of designs at the tattoo shop when I got the first sleeve done and fell in love with it."

I nodded, then lifted my hand and touched the tattoo behind his left ear.

"What about this one? Is Willow—"

He grabbed my wrist and pulled my fingers away from his skin, and my eyes flew to his face. What I saw there told me I'd screwed up really,reallybadly.

I lowered my eyes to the floor and hunched my shoulders to be small, wanting to be anywhere but there.

"I'm sorry, alpha," I whispered. "I'll be quiet now."

He didn't respond, not a word or movement, and my breath became short and sharp. He still held my wrist, his grip tightening a little, but not painfully so. Not yet, anyway.

Oh, no! He's mad. I'm going to get punished.My heart raced.Is he going to break my wrist?

"I forgot." He said it so quietly, I almost couldn't hear it over the blood rushing in my ears.

A tiny whimper slipped from my lips before I could hold it back, and it was like a spell had broken. He dropped my wrist and, ignoring my flinches, pulled me into his chest. I whimpered again, afraid of what he intended, but he only wrapped his arms around my head and shoulders and held me. My face was in his throat and my hands trapped between us, and I didn't dare move an inch.

"Shh. I'm so sorry, little flower. I didn't mean to upset or frighten you." He lowered his lips to my ear and kissed the top of it. "You never have to be quiet. I love hearing your voice and answering your questions. I was caught off guard, that's all. I forgot I had that tattoo, haven't thought about it since I found you, and I was struggling with how I felt about that."

I stayed still and silent, my go-to when stressed or scared. He swallowed hard, and I wished I had the courage to see what was in his eyes, but every muscle was frozen.

"Willow was my sister," he murmured in my ear. "My twin. She died during the sickness. We were fifteen."

I sucked in a sharp breath, and my fingers clenched into his shirt.

"My brothers tried to help with the grief, but they had their own losses to deal with. Your mom died in the sickness, too, right? I remember your brothers telling us that."

I nodded.

"Posy, please talk to me," he begged.

I bit my lip and shook my head. I didn't know what to say.

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