Page 351 of Primal Bonds

“Why did you kill your uncle?”

He went motionless. Even after all these years, the thought of Leron Savonett could still fill him with a murderous rage.

The hand on his chest stilled. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.”

He didn’t want to tell her, but he wasn’t surprised she’d asked—only that she’d waited this long.

“Because he needed killing,” he said in a hard voice.

“I see.”

“But what you really want to know is why I didn’t challenge him for alpha in a fair fight.”

A short silence. “Yeah. I guess I do wonder about that.”

His teeth clenched. He put her away from him and sat up. “I know what your brother says. That I have no honor, no respect for tradition. That I murdered my own uncle in cold blood. Well, Dion knows nothing.”

She sat up, too, the quilt clutched to her breasts. “But I’m not my brother. Tell me. Make me understand.”

He eyed her. It occurred to him that this was his chance to push her away for good. To make her leave and never look back.

“Well, everything you heard was true. I lured my uncle Leron into a back alley and slit his throat because I wasn’t sure that if I challenged him, I’d win.”

She flinched. He waited for her to throw off the quilt, announce she would sleep in the other room after all.

But instead, she took his hands. “Oh, Ric. I know that. But that doesn’t tell me why. Because I know you had a good reason. You are honorable, and your clan is so much better off ever since you became alpha.”

He looked down at their clasped hands. So much for scaring her off.

The woman fucking believed in him.

And he found himself explaining further, something he never did.

“He…went after people I loved. He guessed that I’d grow up to challenge him, so he was especially hard on my friends. It got so I was afraid to even talk to someone, because they might end up locked in a cell—or dead. And it wasn’t an easy death.”

She squeezed his fingers. “Oh, Adric. I’m so sorry.”

“So fuck honor. The man needed to die, and I was the only one who could take him out.”

“You did the right thing.”

“Not according to most of the world.”

“Then they’re wrong,” she said fiercely.

“Maybe. But right or wrong, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

He reached for her. He was done talking about his uncle. She had a red abrasion on her jaw—whisker burn.

“I hurt you.” He lightly touched the mark. “If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve shaved.”

“I don’t mind.” She captured his hand, held it against her face. “I kind of like it.”

He leaned in to brush a kiss over the reddened skin. She turned her face so that he kissed her full on the lips instead, her mouth open, welcoming, as if he hadn’t just admitted to breaking one of the fada’s most sacred traditions.

“Me, too,” he said. “I like seeing my mark on you, having you carry my scent.” And that gave him an idea. He got out of bed and removed the amethyst quartz from her jeans. “I’ll be right back.”

He returned with the amethyst secured by a leather cord. The quilt had slipped lower, exposing her breasts. He dropped the cord over her head and settled the purple chunk of quartz between her cleavage.

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