Burning Dawn
Page 37

 Gena Showalter

  • Background:
  • Text Font:
  • Text Size:
  • Line Height:
  • Line Break Height:
  • Frame:
What if he stays?
“You’re correct about my wants. In part.”
His brow furrowed. “Explain.”
“At camp, I was slapped, pushed and whipped by the very people responsible for the death of my father and husband. I was called names, and treated like an animal. But that wasn’t the worst of the abuse.” She drew in a deep breath. Held...held... “They taunted me with details of my family’s death. They wouldn’t allow me to speak to my mother, or her to speak to me. But I should have risked punishment, and talked to her. She needed me, and I was too afraid to help her.”
Emotion darkened his features. Emotions she couldn’t read. “And now you think you deserve more pain?”
“Yes. But I also thought... I mean, if sex could be an experience I hated, I’d never again want to betray Bay.”
He backed away from her, severing all contact, taking his wondrous heat.
“Thane?” she asked as a tear streamed down her cheek. He’s sickened by my acceptance of my fate. He considers me a coward—because I am. “I’m sorry.”
“You need to leave, Elin. Now.”
“But—”
“Now,” he roared.
She raced from the room.
 
 
CHAPTER TEN

HER TEAR...that one lone tear... I’m gutted. It brought Thane to his knees. He’d known in that moment, as Elin left the suite, that a female’s weeping would never again arouse him. He would always associate the action with his little human’s soul-crushing anguish.
Elin is just like me. She thinks she deserves punishment, not pleasure.
Had his other women felt the same? He’d wondered before, but the truth had evaded him. Or maybe he hadn’t wanted to face it. Now, the answer was clear, and undeniable. They had. He hadn’t chosen females based on their exterior—tall, strong and stalwart. He’d chosen those with shadows in their eyes, because deep down he’d known they’d hoped to exorcise figurative demons, just as he had.
They’d all failed.
Thane punched a hole in the wall. Right now, he had to concentrate on Elin. His sweet mortal was in need of comfort he wasn’t capable of giving. When she’d talked of her time with the Phoenix, his rage had been so great, he’d nearly stomped from the room to murder every man and woman in his courtyard.
Then Elin had listed her second reason for desiring pain. Even as she’d talked of commitments and clinging, she’d wanted to hate being with him, so that she would never again be tempted to betray her husband.
Her dead husband.
His hands curled into fists. If Thane were to harm her, even at her request, it would change her. It would dull her bright smile. Never again would she feel at ease enough to tease him. Never again would she bake him a cake or pull weeds in the garden with him. Never again would she speak so freely with him. She would flinch from him.
And if another man were to harm her...heaven and earth would tremble from the effects of Thane’s wrath.
Have to prove she deserves good things. Have to make her crave good things.
He headed into town to buy chocolates and romance novels. Several hours ticked past as he selected the very best of both. A man devoted time to what mattered to him—to what he deemed worthy of his attention.
When he finished, he tracked down Merrick.
A man guarded what mattered to him.
Shame Spiral was performing at another bar that night. Bodies danced, and strobes flashed rainbow-colored lights in every direction.
Thane didn’t bother pushing through the crowd. He flew above it and landed on the stage.
The moment he was noticed, the music stopped.
Thane locked eyes with a confused Merrick. “Stay away from the girl.”
The male frowned and moved away from the mic, coming closer. “You’ll have to be more specific. What girl?”
“The human. My human.”
The confusion intensified. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”
As if he hadn’t noticed Elin. Only a blind man would pass by her—but he would backtrack when he caught hint of her scent. “Go near her, and I’ll give you more of this.” Thane hammered a fist into the Sent One’s jaw.
Merrick’s head whipped to the side, and he stumbled. Straightening, he narrowed his gaze on Thane. The other band members abandoned their instruments to flank their friend.
“I’ll let you have that one,” Merrick said, rubbing his jaw, “because there’s a good chance I slept with her and forgot her.”
“You didn’t.”
“You sure? Because it happens. A lot.”
“Do you want me to kill you?”
Merrick shrugged. “There are worse ways to go.”
How did you frighten a man like that?
Frustrated, Thane left.
At the Downfall, he plucked the fullest, brightest roses from the garden and arranged them in a diamond vase; the action soothed him.
The next morning, he had the gifts delivered to the kitchen, where Elin was busy baking.
This time, he included a note. It read, I’ve never believed everything that happens is meant to be. Fathers and husbands aren’t meant to be murdered, and mothers aren’t meant to die in front of their children. But I do believe something good can come from something bad. You, Elin. You are my good. Give me a chance, and I’ll prove it.
* * *
LATER THAT EVENING Thane and his boys flew to Rathbone Industries in New York. They were systematically checking off names from their part of Jamilla’s list. So far they’d come up empty.
Number seven was Ty Rathbone. Once lauded for his calm under the worst kind of pressure, now known for his violent temper. The switch had happened in mere moments, his closest friends had stated.
Demons were definitely involved. But was it one of Germanus’s killers or just some minion?
Thane’s wings glided seamlessly through the night-darkened sky. Wind cut through his hair. He rolled to avoid a flock of birds, even though he would have ghosted through. He was still in the spirit realm, the birds in the natural. Spirit and flesh were not solid to each other.
Your time with the human didn’t go well, I take it, Bjorn said inside his mind. Judging by the sounds I heard—no, I didn’t eavesdrop, but, yes, you should be quieter—I expected you to be in a much better mood.
The male had recovered from his time with the shadow demons, at least. We ended...poorly. And she had yet to respond to his gifts.