Page 41 of Furever Loyal
“Nothing?” she exclaimed. The lights were dim, but bright enough that she could make out his battered and bruised body. His shirt was a mess and she could see dark stains on it and on his skin, that had to be dried blood. “They beat the shit out of you.”
“Thanks. I really needed a reminder of that.” Kincaid finally sat up.
Gasping at the site of his thoroughly beaten face, she reached out through the bars to grasp his hand. What doing this would accomplish, she couldn’t say, but it just felt right, like he needed her, needed her support, and she was going to provide it. He dragged himself closer to the bars, and she rested her hand on his shoulder, stroking it gently while he sat hunched over, arms crossed over his head.
Haley hated seeing him like that. Kincaid had been working so hard to clear his name, to prove he was innocent. The strength and conviction of his efforts had gone a long way toward keeping her opinion neutral, if not landing her a little on his side of the fence. He hadn’t really gotten angry over it and was determined to expose whatever was going on—even if that damned him further.
To see them treat him like this bothered her deeply. This wasn’t how someone should be treated, human or shifter. The captors were afraid of being mistreated by humans, but it was clear they did the same to themselves. They couldn’t even give him a chance to prove himself. Instead, they just beat the shit out of him and tossed him in a cell.
“Why did they do this to you?” she asked, curious what the rationale would be.
“Personal vendetta,” he admitted. “Kvoss hates me.”
“Yes, but why?”
“He and the former King were very close. He took offense to the way I challenged him about the old-fashioned nature of how the House was run shortly after the King came to power.”
“And how long ago was that?”
“Twelve years,” Kincaid answered.
“He’s hated you for that for twelve years?”
“Oh no, much longer than that.” Despite the obvious pain in his voice, she thought she detected some humor entering it as well.
“Do I dare ask why?” She was wincing in preparation for the answer before she finished asking the question.
“Promise not to get mad?”
“No. But if it happened that long ago, why would I?”
“Uh.” Kincaid fell silent.
“So, are you going to tell me?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t.”
“Oh please. I’m sure I can handle whatever it is without getting mad.”
Why would she get mad? Haley hadn’t known either of them until days ago. Before that, they were simply folders in her filing cabinet and names on a screen. Nothing more. What was with the sudden hesitation?
“I slept with his sister when we were younger.”
“Oh. That’s it?”
“All three of them. After he told me not to.”
Haley couldn’t help herself. She laughed. A lot. It was cathartic. While she—strangely enough—didn’t enjoy hearing about his past sexual activities, it was all decades ago. She wasn’t sure how old Kincaid was exactly, but he was in his late thirties at least—and everyone was entitled to their own pleasure.
“No wonder he hates you,” she said when she calmed down. “Did you do it out of spite?”
Kincaid shrugged. “Not the first one. We were teenagers, puberty, etc., etc. Then he got really pissy about it. The other two were older, but I made it a mission. He was just mad that he kept getting turned down by women because he was a creep. Personally, I think at least one of the older ones did it to piss him off as well, but I never asked.”
She laughed again, quieter this time. “Wow. And I guess he holds grudges real well.”
“Yeah, I didn’t factor that in at the time.”
Haley’s chest was still bouncing as she enjoyed the humor of it. “No, I doubt you were thinking with your brain at the time.”
