Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Roni’s expression was deadpan. “Well then, she’d better come fight for him.” Her unexpected words made him smile.
Kerrie gaped. “You’d really stay with him? You’d really get in the way of that?”
“I spoke to a Seer once. She told me my father would be Alpha of the pack one day. He was already dead at the time.”
“My vision was—”
“Just a vision. I don’t place much faith in them. But if Marcus’s path truly is so set in stone, he’ll find her without trying, won’t he? So don’t worry your bitter little head.”
Marcus chose that moment to approach. “Ready, gorgeous?”
Roni nodded. “Definitely. There’s a weird smell in here.” She then cast Kerrie a withering look and strolled out of the diner, knowing Marcus would follow. She’d sensed him behind her and Kerrie, knew he’d been listening, and she appreciated that he let her deal with the bitch herself. It wasn’t until they were both in the car and leaving the parking lot that she spoke again. “So . . . Kerrie’s a Seer.”
He smoothed his hand along her thigh. “I didn’t tell you about the vision for three reasons: One, I was worried it would make you walk away. Two, I don’t want the vision to come true—the future she described isn’t one I’d want. Three, I’m not sure I believe the vision means anything anymore. In any case, I couldn’t make the female the Seer described happy, and she couldn’t make me happy either.”
That made Roni frown. “Mates make each other happy.”
“That’s the theory.”
“Your parents weren’t happy at all, were they?” she guessed.
“No, they weren’t,” he admitted.
So maybe Nick’s suppositions were right after all. “Were they true mates, or had they imprinted?”
“They were true mates. And yet, they were never happy. In fact, they were miserable. But you don’t look very surprised by that.”
She thought about denying it, but not only would it be unfair, he’d most likely know she was lying. “It’s just that Nick . . . he had his friend do a check on you, on your past.”
“Did he now?” he drawled, his tone deadly.
“He had no right to do that; it was an invasion of your privacy, and I’m sorry.”
“Well, what did he find out?” But Marcus was afraid he already knew.
“You once told me your dad was hard. Did he ever . . . ?” It was difficult to ask, felt wrong when she could sense his pain.
“Was he abusive? No, he wasn’t.”
“But your mom . . .”
“He never laid a single finger on her.”
Roni’s brows drew together in confusion. “Nick’s friend said she was always badly bruised.”
“She was.”
“Marcus, I don’t understand.”
Pulling up at the side of the road, he killed the engine—resigned to the fact that he’d need to tell Roni this twisted tale. “She used to disappear for days at a time. When she’d come back, she’d be battered and bruised. Not because she’d been attacked, but because she’d wanted it.” Seeing Roni’s perplexed look, he smiled weakly. “I don’t really understand it myself. I’ve heard about sexual masochism, but most people involved in that lifestyle are totally normal people with a kink that others might not understand. But my mother . . . it’s not sexual for her, she just likes to suffer. And in being the way she is, she makes everyone around her suffer.”
Wow. Nothing he said could have stunned Roni more.
“When we were in our old pack, she knew everyone thought my dad was abusing her, knew about the whispers and rumors, but she didn’t care. He tried to help her, but he couldn’t, because she didn’t want help—she still doesn’t. I think she does love me and my sisters, but she doesn’t seem to want us to love her. If I tried to hug her, she’d push me away. She needs to be a constant victim.”
The pain of that rejection was in his voice, and it made Roni’s wolf whine. Wanting to comfort him but not really sure what to do, Roni simply laid a supportive hand over his. He threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed gently.
“When she’d vanish for a few days, I was glad. I used to dread her coming home because I knew what state she’d be in: covered in whip marks, bruises, cuff marks, burns. I don’t know where she used to go—I know there are clubs that cater to that kind of thing. Or maybe she had an arrangement with someone who got off on beating the crap out of women.”
“It must have been hard.” She almost groaned at herself for the clichéd comment, but she didn’t know what to say. What did a person say to someone who grew up with that shit?
“Confining her to the house didn’t work because she’d resort to self-harm. I once found her in her bedroom with a plastic bag around her head.” He’d thought he was saving her when he freed her, but she’d been angry at him. It hadn’t been the last time something like that happened.