Page 86 of Darkness Bound (Night Prowler 5)
A terrible thought took seed. It sank its roots deep into the darkest, most selfish parts of him, grabbing hold with greedy claws. He pushed it back, but it held on, stubborn as a case of hiccups.
She can’t lie. Grow some balls and find out the truth. Ask the three most important questions that will ever pass your lips:
Do you love me? Will you be mine? Will you turn your back on everything you used to know, and run away with me?
What if she said no? Even more terrifying . . . what if she said yes?
Fighting himself, he turned his head away, stared out into the sea of restless green.
She rested her head on his bare chest. “Do you get tired, after?”
Hawk smiled. “After?”
“Not after that, gutter mind,” she said, stifling a yawn. “After the flying thing. Melding.”
“Oh.” He thought about it. “Not particularly. Why? Do you feel tired?”
“Mmm. It’s a side effect of adrenaline overloads. Afterward I get sleepy.”
He whispered in her ear, “You sure it’s adrenaline? I think maybe I’m just too hot for you to handle, Red. My charisma alone could suck all the energy from the sun, and that’s not even getting into how much of a stud I am in the sack.”
She bent down and nipped his nipple with her teeth.
“Ow!”
“Oh, did you feel that?” she said, looking up at him. “I thought maybe your giant ego would be in the way.”
“All right, you.” He bent his knees, lifted her up in his arms, swung around, and carried her back to the bed. “Time for a nap. But don’t think you’re going to be sleeping for too long, because I have plans.”
“Promises, promises,” she said, yawning again.
He laid her gently down and crawled in beside her, not bothering with the covers, drawing her against his chest so she was facing away, their legs entangled.
“Who knew the big, bad, egomaniacal wolf would be such a cuddler?” she said, sighing with what he hoped was contentment.
“I think we’ve already established I’m a big, bad, egomaniacal cat.”
“Hmmm.” She wriggled her bottom against his pelvis. “Here, kitty kitty.”
Had she not sounded on the verge of sleep, Hawk would have taken her up on that enticing proposition.
Another yawn, this one accompanied by a deep, rising whoop, akin to the mating call of a whale. “Why did the Alpha call you ‘Lord Bastard’ at the punishment tree? And why does he hate you so much?”
A pulse of surprise at the question, a rueful twist in his stomach, bittersweet, as he realized he was ashamed to answer. Of course he would tell her only the truth; even if he’d wanted to lie, his tongue wouldn’t allow it. His entire body rebelled against his better judgment when it came to her.
“Do you remember what you called me in the forest, Salsu Maru? What Nando had called me?”
“Mmm.”
“In our language it means ‘Least Son.’ That’s what I am. Not the youngest of three, but the least important, because I was illegitimate. My brother has made an art form of rubbing it in my face, hence his amusing nicknames for me.”
She’d fallen still, listening. “Your brother? The Alpha is your brother?”
“Half,” he corrected. “So is Xander, Morgan’s husband. Three different mothers, three different lives. And in answer to the second part of your question, why he hates me so much, well . . .”
How to explain the unexplainable? What words might properly convey the twisted logic that makes one sibling jealous of the attention given to another by a parent, even if that attention came in the form of vicious beatings for the smallest, most innocent offense? Their father had brutalized both him and Xander from the time they could walk, but for some unknown reason, to Alejandro he’d shown only supreme indifference, as if he didn’t exist at all. He never even looked at Alejandro, never acknowledged his presence in a room. Hawk would have given his eyeteeth to avoid his father’s fists, but to Alejandro, it seemed as if only he were invisible. As if he didn’t even merit the energy required to throw a punch.
To the lonely and the longing, even negative attention is better than no attention at all.
