Page 22 of Prodigal Son

“My wife,” he sneered between clenched teeth, “does not want to see you. You’re not welcome here. Go away.”

His words gutted Cain. Without a link to Anna, he had no way of knowing if Adam was protecting her with lies or speaking the truth. “Let her tell me to go and I will.”

“Don’t you get it? She can’t tell you. She has no strength because of you. Leave. And leave us alone to live our lives in peace.”

As Adam turned away, Cain panicked. “You cannot shut me out, Adam. I need to speak with her. You owe me that much—”

“I owe you nothing! Everything I have—everything—you nearly destroyed it!”

Remorse choked him. There was no apology worthy of forgiveness. His grief and worry crippled him. “I just need to speak to her. I haven’t dreamt of her.”

“You haven’t dreamt of her because she hasn’t slept, you selfish animal. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I won’t know until I see her! I nearly died, too, Adam. I haven’t fed on more than a few drops in days. I’m weak and sick with concern. I know that doesn’t excuse my actions, but I did everything I could to survive for her. I’m here for her.”

“You’re here for yourself. Your selfish actions nearly cost her her life and the life of our child!”

“Believe me, none of this is for me,” he rasped. If Cain had his way, he would have given up in the woods and let himself die, but that wasn’t an option, not without risking the lives of Anna and the babe. “My existence continues for her. Do you think any of this is what I wanted?”

“Don’t pretend that you were thinking of her out there. You were thinking of yourself, thinking of how you could redeem your reputation in the eyes of The Elders.”

Cain scoffed. “Fuck The Elders and fuck you for thinking so low of me.” His chest hurt from more than the blow of the arrow. He’d done the most selfless thing of all for his brother. “Your memory is short.”

Adam’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t rescind his words.

“Was I selfish that night? Was I thinking of The Elders? No! I was only thinking of you, my twin.” Cain seethed, still weak from injury and lack of blood, but refusing to rest until he saw her. “She’s yours, Adam, isn’t that enough? Must you keep punishing me more than God already has? I can’t die, because it will kill her, so I must go on suffering, knowing exactly where peace and salvation lies, but forbidden to take respite in her arms. My distance isn’t out of ease, it’s out of respect for you and Anna. Every second I deny myself, I suffer all I’ve lost again. So go ahead, call me selfish. Look me in the eye and say it as if you truly mean it and you’re not simply speaking from an insecure place of fear.”

“I should kill you,” his brother growled.

“I know the feeling, but you can’t, not without killing your sweet wife.”

“She’s my mate,” Adam growled through clenched teeth.

“Do you want my response to that?”

Adam snarled and lunged, his fist knotting in the tattered shreds of Cain’s shirt. “She will never be yours the way she’s mine! You only bring her pain! You can’t conceive of the horrors you’ve wrought. She nearly bled out! A true mate protects his female at all costs. You only put her in harm’s way!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“Excuses! That’s all you have to say for your thoughtless actions. How many more apologies should we expect before this nonsense ends? How far will you go before you learn? What price will the rest of us pay?” Adam’s composure slipped and true fear flashed in his eyes. “To be rendered impotent in the grip of an enemy I cannot see…” He panted. “Curse this hold you have over us, Cain. The enemy is you.”

Adam’s restraint was for Anna’s benefit alone. There was no mistaking his desire to hurt Cain, and he’d accomplished the task without compromising Annalise. Adam understood any blow to Cain would be a blow to his wife. But he didn’t need to hit him. His words destroyed him, cutting deeper than any physical injury possibly could.

“You’re right,” Cain wheezed. His campaign to stop Isaiah was a foolish cause led by his ego that placed Annalise in grave danger. Shame sapped the rest of his strength. “I’ll go.”

Adam released his grip and stepped back. “Get out.”

Cain nodded and turned toward the door.

“Wait.” Her fragile voice cut through Cain like a bolt of lightning, and he pivoted to face the steps, searching the second floor landing for the relief that always accompanied the sight of her.

“Anna.” She stood just inside the door, cloaked by shadows. Her copper hair hung rebelliously loose over her shoulders and her small hands cradled her rounded belly protectively through her shift.

“You should be in bed—”

“And you should not speak to your brother that way.”

A furious growl purred from Adam’s chest, his frustration also with his mate. “Five minutes, and you will sit, not stand. Your body is still weak.”

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