Moon Child (The Year of the Wolf #2) - Serena Akeroyd Page 0,69
father’s debts, Sabina had been sold along to the Lindowiczs as another down-payment on money owed, and I would probably have endured a similar fate if I hadn’t run away from home when our father had started to lose it.
My eyes prickled with tears that I rarely allowed to fall. Crying was a waste of energy, and I didn’t stand well with self-pity, but I hadn’t meant to hurt her. Not after everything she’d done for me so far.
“Why’s the omega crying?”
I jerked at the question, but when I saw the alpha from last night enter the room, slipping inside like a ghost, my eyes widened. “What are you doing here? Eli told you to ask for a formal invitation, didn’t he?”
“He did. I asked, and he agreed.” His smile was small, but beautiful nonetheless. He had the richest brown eyes you could imagine. Deeper than the darkest of chocolates, and with striations that bordered on bronze and gold that intertwined as they met his pupil.
His nose was strong, his jaw firm. His brows were a deep jet black, but his cheeks were clean shaven. Last night, he’d had the makings of a beard. Not just stubble, but a few days’ worth of growth. His shirt was neatly ironed, a rich burgundy that offset his pale skin, and his jeans were new, as were his boots.
He wore simple things, but they were of good quality, and he was dressed, in his own way, to impress.
Only, there was no artifice.
He wore no expensive watch, neither did he wear any rings. His belt had a regular buckle, even though I could tell it wasn’t inexpensive because it was made from good leather. If anything, his cufflinks were the sole item that was of any merit in his outfit. They were opals that gleamed whenever the light hit them, flashing orange and green when he moved, taking a seat on the sofa where Sabina had just been resting.
“I didn’t think you ended things in a friendly way last night,” I rasped, crossing my legs as nerves filtered through me. “Why would he let you back onto his pack lands?”
“You’re very accepting of something that’s new to you, aren’t you?” he queried, and I’d admit to finding a strange kind of peace in how calm he was.
His emotions might very well be high, but he wasn’t broadcasting them for everyone to see.
I liked that.
More than I had any right to.
“I have no choice but to accept things that are new to me,” I told him, aware that he wouldn’t let the subject drop without an answer from me. As serene as he was, I sensed, equally, that he was determined by nature.
“Why is that?”
“Why are you so calm?”
“There’s no point in being angry.”
“Why not?”
“You say that when your temper is held well in check?”
“I have my reasons. I was raised in an angry household. I had no desire to continue that kind of misery into adulthood.”
His eyes narrowed at that. “Your father has a lot to apologize for.”
His anger was real. A slow burn emotion that wasn’t erratic. Wasn’t volatile. It soothed me even as I registered it was unnecessary, and I told him as much, “He’s dead now. No point in wasting any emotion on him.”
“He harmed you. I can tell.”
“All parents harm their children,” I told him softly. “Whether it’s intended or not.”
“That’s a very cynical belief.”
“No, it’s candid and true. Even the best parents die, don’t they? They can’t stop death. We come into this world knowing we will be left alone at some point. Knowing that we will have to endure a world without those we love. Is there anything more certain than death?”
“Taxes?”
My smile was brisk. “Depends on how you lead your life.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Everyone pays taxes.”
“Not if you’re dead.”
“And you’re dead?”
“Yes. According to the appropriate governing bodies that count, at any rate.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you mean me no harm. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.” Not only did I sense it, but I surmised as much from what Sabina had said. “You want what’s best for me.”
“You’re right. I do.”
“Then you’ll leave me alone. That’s what’s best for me.”
If I’d hurt him with my answer, I couldn’t tell. Not even in those signs I was accustomed to reading. He didn’t project any emotion, even though I knew he felt it.
His control, his barriers…they were as strong as mine.
Interesting.
Few knew how to contain their emotions to that extent. Not even Sabina