Page 83 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

He doesn’t say anything, but by how tight his jaw is clenched, I know he doesn’t much care for my reassurance. “Howard isn’t my father, is he?” He tenses, pressing the ice pack a few times before examining my foot. “Answer me!” He opened the fucking Pandora’s box himself and now hesitates to talk about it?

He raises his eyes to me, throws the ice pack aside, and plasters a hand on either side of my hips, caging me in his embrace, my legs moving slightly to give him room between them. “No, he isn’t.”

I exhale heavily. “Truly?”

“Si.”

And that’s when the pain ripping my flesh in two, which has been present my whole life, disappears, and such happiness replaces it I’m afraid I might burst!

My laughter reverberates off the walls, and my body shakes with it.

Santiago frowns, so I wrap my arms around him, squeezing him impossibly tight. He’s who delivered the news, after all. “Thank you so much,” I say into his neck and then lean back, my arms still circling him. “I’ve never been happier.” And then I realize what I’ve done, and my cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

Any minute now, we might start acting like a real husband and wife.

I push at his chest for him to step back, and he does so instantly, allowing me to hop back on the floor. “Sorry about the mug. I’m going to clean it up.”

I don’t take two steps toward the kitchen sink when his hand catches mine, bringing me back to stand in front of him as his eyes search my face. “You aren’t sad? No entiendo.”

Of course he doesn’t understand. He grew up in a loving household where people worshipped the ground he walked on. He probably would have been devastated to discover Lucian wasn’t his father.

Me though? A whole different story. “They hurt me all my life. It’s a relief to know they aren’t my family. At least I can live with the knowledge my father isn’t an asshole.” I mean obviously I have no clue who fathered me, but how much worse can it be really? It’s hard to top Howard in that regard.

Regardless, I don’t want to find my real family, because the Dawsons scarred me for life as it is. Knowing I’m not theirs is enough.

Maybe I’m not so unlovable after all.

A conflicted emotion crosses his face at my words, his hold on me tightening, his fingers digging into me to the point of pain. Dread fills me, a horrible thought nipping at my mind when his scars pop in my head, ready to reveal a dark secret that could possibly change my life. I open my mouth to voice my concern, when I see a yellow-golden blur pass by the terrace window, and then the blur passes by again in the other direction.

Momentarily forgetting about our topic, I step closer to the terrace, narrowing my eyes on the blur, and when I do, my pulse stops before it starts beating so freaking fast I have to put a hand over my heart so it won’t jump out.

A lion.

A lion runs around the perimeter, his paws landing heavily on the grass, leaving footprints in his wake as he bares his teeth, strolling across the land as if he owns it.

His muzzle has the longest whiskers, and his shaggy golden mane glistens under the sunlight, his powerful large body only adding to the magnificent picture the wild animal presents.

He pauses when he notices my attention on him, his whiskers twitching. He turns his head to me, his eyes almost dead, zeroing their focus on me. His jaw drops open, and I see meat stuck between his teeth. My stomach drops, because a dangerous animal has spotted me, and only a freaking glass window separates us!

I step back but bump into Santiago’s chest, his hands landing on my shoulders, keeping me steady while the lion still stares at us, his focus so absolute I wonder if that’s how prey in the wild feel when a hunter chases them.

Their whole life playing in front of their eyes while fear sinks into every bone, where the mind shouts one thing only.

Run. Run. Run.

“A lion. There… is a lion,” I finally say, urging Santiago to do something, because maybe he hasn’t seen him? Otherwise, why is he standing behind me and doing nothing!

“Yeah, I’m aware. Meet Leo. Say hi.”

“Hi.” I wave at the lion like an idiot before the actions register in my mind and finally tear my gaze away from the animal to face Santiago. “Leo? You named a lion?”

I’m still hoping that maybe the animal wandered on his territory accidentally. Maybe he has a neighbor who loves cats or there is a zoo nearby….

A grin pulls at his mouth. “Of course. He’s my pet. Who else would name him?” And like that, my hopes die.

I married a man who has a fucking lion as a pet!

Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves that are probably nonexistent at this point with all the excitement I keep on getting because of Santiago, I ask, “Is it even legal to have him as a pet?”

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