Page 63 of Ignited Spirits
“My mother came at me with a chef’s knife. Instead of running and hiding, like I usually did, I wrestled the knife away from her. She shoved me, and I shoved her back, harder than I meant to. She went flying and slammed into the kitchen counter hard enough to cave her skull in.
“When she didn’t heal herself or wake up, I retrieved the pack healer, but there was nothing he could do for her. According to scans the Nightshades ran afterward, the impact severed her brain stem, killing her almost instantly. That’s when Prue and I went to live with Luca and Archer’s family. If anyone suspected that I was the one who killed her, they never brought it up and I received no punishment for it.”
“Why the fuck would you be punished?” Isabel’s face turns pink with her anger, not at me, but on my behalf. “She had been abusing and terrorizing you for years! Where the fuck was the rest of your pack while this was happening?”
I run my hands up and down her back to soothe some of her rage. “No one knew, angel. My mother had me convinced that the rest of the pack blamed me for my dads’ deaths and hated me. I never told anyone, and I went to great lengths to hide what she did to me. Even Prue doesn’t know the whole story, because she was so young at the time.”
“What about Luca and Archer? How did they miss that their best friend was being abused?”
“They were children too. It wasn’t their job to notice. And before you go after them, they were the ones who offered me a place to escape to, a safe place to sleep, and oftentimes my only meals. They did what they could, and their friendship helped me make it through.”
She deflates at my explanation. “I know it’s not their fault. I just… Fuck, the person I’m so livid with is dead. So, who can Ibe angry at? Who can I hurt for hurting you? Who can I exact revenge on to make you feel better?”
I would chuckle at her method for solving the problem if she didn’t look so devastated. “I don’t need you to do any of that, angel. I’m okay now. I promise.”
“You didn’t seem okay when that raging bitchface of a hellhound tried to grab you,” she says carefully, like she’s worried she’ll upset me.
“I still have my triggers, and the memories still haunt me from time to time. But I’m no longer consumed by rage and pain like I was when I was younger.”
“What helped?”
“Meeting you helped more than words can express.” I sigh because I try to keep this side of me and part of my life from her, but I refuse to lie to her. “But before that, I killed people. They were bad people who hurt others. But they were still people at the end of the day. It allowed me to take some of my power back and protect others in similar situations, I suppose.”
She tilts her head in thought. “Is that what you did as The Reaper?”
My eyes widen in shock. “Who told you about that?”
She looks at me guiltily. “Archer. He didn’t tell me much about it, because he said it wasn’t his place. Don’t be mad at him.”
“I’m not. You don’t have to worry about him. I’m just confused.”
“About what?”
“Why you’re not running off, screaming. You know how fucked in the head I am. You know I have a penchant for murder. You know I know I’m not a good man. So why are you still looking at me like you love me just the same, Isabel?”
“Because I do. And you are absolutely a good man.” When I give her a skeptical look, she huffs. “How many people haveyou seen me kill, Cain? If you think murdering some bad guys is going to scare me off, you don’t know me that well. And I hope I’m not such a terrible person you honestly think I’d judge you for being abused.”
She looks a little hurt, and I hate that I did that to her. “I’m sorry, angel.” I cup the back of her neck and rub small circles there to reassure her. “I think you’re the best person I’ve ever met. You’re so genuinely good that there’s a chance a little of that will rub off on me one of these days. I just don’t understand why you want me knowing all of it. I often wish I could be someone else.”
I don’t know if I always wanted to be someone else when I was younger, but it’s been an ever-present wish after my dads died. If I were different, maybe they’d still be here. Maybe Mother would’ve grown to love me. Maybe a lot of things would’ve changed for the better, but I guess I’ll never know.
Isabel’s eyes, sadder than before, fill with determination. “I want you because you are so fucking sweet and care so much about those who matter to you. I want you because your quiet strength balances out my loud, sarcastic impulsiveness, and you always have a way of making me feel safe and calm. I want you because, despite what you think, you’re a good man who made it almost impossible not to fall in love with you. I love you, Cain. With everything I am.”
After her declaration that makes me feel more than I can handle, Isabel leans in and presses her mouth to mine for what’s supposed to be a quick kiss.
But I don’t let her go.
Instead, I crush her to me and turn it into a rough, demanding clashing of lips because I need her. I need to feel her against me. I need to feel how much she wants me. I need to feel that she’s real and isn’t running for the hills.
Eventually, I reluctantly pull back. Both of us are breathing hard as we stare at each other silently.
I’m the one to break the charged silence. “I love you too, Isabel. I love your fire and sass and refusal to accept the wrongs of the world. I love how you love so fiercely and would do anything for those you care about. I love how you’ve turned my life upside down and made it more than just something I have to get through. Because of you, I look forward to each day now, which isn’t something I’ve felt since I was a child.”
A tear drips down her cheek, and I reach out to swipe it away with my thumb. She closes her eyes and leans into my touch before pulling back. “You’re so damn sweet. Stop it before you make me start sobbing.”
My lips tip up in the genuine smile that she alone is able to coax out of me. I don’t think I truly smiled after my dads died until she came into my life. She didn’t magically heal all the broken and messed-up pieces of me, but she certainly made them easier to bear.
Bumping her nose gently with mine, I rasp, “I love you, angel.”
