Captive - Cheryl Brooks Page 0,50
nights.
No one ever said starting a revolution would be easy.
She was grateful to Velkma for providing them with a safe haven for the night, although she wasn’t sure how Moe felt about it. He’d been tight-lipped ever since their hostess had shown them to a room that Klara suspected was Velkma’s own.
She stopped short as Moe tossed one of the pillows on the floor. “We aren’t going to share the bed?”
Arching a brow, Moe stood glaring at her, his folded arms and wide-legged stance clearly displaying his annoyance. “I wouldn’t have thought you would want to, what with me being a criminal and all. I’m surprised you’re even willing to be in the same room with me.” A moue of distaste curved his lips. “A criminal… What in the world made you think that?”
After all that had been discussed that day, Klara was surprised he would bring that topic up now. She honestly didn’t know how to reply, so she wound up repeating herself. “You jumped into a fight that really didn’t concern you with very little provocation. That Herp didn’t mean to hit you, and I was pretty sure you knew that.” She stopped for a moment, recalling his expression when she’d first noticed him. “You looked really angry even before he hit you.”
“That’s because I was angry,” he snarled. “I’ve been angry ever since—” His apparent irritation was instantly replaced by a thoughtful expression as his head tilted very slowly to one side. “Ever since my brother Larry came home with Althea as his mate.”
Moe couldn’t believe he hadn’t made the connection before, but the timing fit perfectly. He’d made it through the wedding without exploding, but only because there was plenty of tequila on hand. He hadn’t been obviously—and certainly not obnoxiously—drunk, but he’d definitely felt as though he’d had sorrows to drown. He knew Larry had always been Althea’s favorite, but that didn’t change how he’d felt. Let down, rejected, not betrayed, exactly, but something similar. As time went on, he figured he’d gotten over it. Apparently he hadn’t.
“Care to enlighten me?” she said with only a mild show of interest. “Who is Althea?”
“She’s a girl we grew up with. In fact, she’s the only girl we grew up with.”
“And you were in love with her?” That she’d made this assumption proved she was at least paying attention to whatever this criminal was saying.
“We were all in love with Althea in one way or another. From the moment she was born, she had our hearts clutched in her tiny little fists. We were pretty young ourselves—two years old or so—but we all thought she was the cutest thing we’d ever seen.” He paused as a frown briefly tightened his brow. “That never changed as we grew older.”
“I see,” Klara said. “You were jealous when she chose Larry.”
“I suppose I was,” Moe admitted. “Both sets of parents figured she’d wind up with one of our litter. I’ve never been sure whether Curly, our other littermate, really cared. But Larry… Like I said, he was always her favorite. Maybe it was only jealousy. The funny thing is, I remember what her father said when she was born. We were all gathered around to meet the new kids—she had two brothers as well—but we only had eyes for Althea. Her father, Leo, said something then that I’ll never forget.” No, he hadn’t forgotten. But apparently, he’d misunderstood.
“Go on,” Klara prompted him when he didn’t continue right away.
“He said because of her Mordrial blood, there would only be one man for her. He was looking at me when he said it. I’m not sure Larry and Curly were even listening, they were so fascinated with the baby.” He took a breath so deep it hurt almost as much as his heart had done when Larry gave them the good news. “I must’ve thought he meant that I would be that man, that he’d had a vision and knew what the outcome would be. We Zetithians have them from time to time. Visions, I mean.”
“So I’ve been told.” Judging from the dryness of her tone, she might have been told, but she didn’t seem to have been convinced.
He looked down at his hands as his voice fell to a mere whisper. “I wasn’t sure whether you knew or not, but it’s true. Anyway, looking back, I guess he must’ve been trying to tell me that I wasn’t going to be The One, which is what the Mordrial witches call the man