Dark Instincts
Page 55

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.
“Was it an attention-seeking thing?”
He shook his head. “She didn’t do any of it for attention—she just liked it, liked the pain, liked the humiliation, both physical and emotional. My dad tried everything to help her. He stood by her through it all. He never told anyone; he let everyone believe he was abusing her. My sisters and I were sworn to secrecy.”
“Did anyone find out?” Surely something like that couldn’t be kept totally buried.
“Trick knew. He was with me one day when I found her slicing her arms with her own claws. But he didn’t betray the secret. I wanted to tell people, but I knew my dad would have made us switch packs to protect her from their disgust—he always put her first. Other than my sisters, who were the ones who really took care of me, my friends were all I had.”
“Are you in contact with your parents?”
“No. I tried to have a relationship with them, but I can’t. What my mother does . . . it’s like an addiction. Whether my dad realizes it or not, he’s her enabler. He’s emotionally distant, which helps her since she recoils from affection. But he can’t give her the physical pain she needs. So he takes her to these clubs, lets someone beat the living shit out of her, and then he takes her home.”
What a total mind fuck. Following her wolf’s instinct, Roni rubbed her jaw against his shoulder. It seemed to soothe him, because he took a deep breath and then kissed her hair. She knew now why he hid behind a carefree mask. He didn’t want to care, because then he wouldn’t hurt anymore. Not only had his mother rejected him, but his father had rejected him too when Marcus’s strength became apparent. If someone was carefree and happy on their own, they didn’t need anyone else, they didn’t need love, and then they couldn’t be rejected, could they?
“Maybe it’s unfair, but I can’t go there to visit them, Roni. I can’t look at them and pretend I’m okay with it. I get that, in their own way, they’re both trapped. And I get that my dad thinks he’s making the best out of a bad situation. But I can’t be part of it. If that makes me a shit son . . . well, then, I’m a shit son. I just can’t be part of the lies anymore.”
She leaned into him, feeling helpless. “It doesn’t make you a bad son.”
“On my dad’s birthday last year, he asked us all to get together for a family meal. I didn’t want to go, but my sisters convinced me to give it a try. My mother was sitting there, black and fucking blue with rope burns around her neck and wrists, and we all had to pretend it was fine. I couldn’t do it. I walked out, and I haven’t seen either of them since. Teagan doesn’t visit them either, but she talks to Dad over the phone sometimes.”
Understanding now the source of all that anger trapped in ice, Roni felt like shit. He’d grown up watching his mother hurt herself over and over again, had been forced to let his father bear unwarranted shame, and she’d just made him talk about it. “Marcus, I’m really sorry I dredged this up. I really—”