Den of Sorrows
Page 59

Drake shook his head. "You're wrong. You've always been mine to protect and you always will be."
"You can't be more than five or six years older than me. So what could you have done at the age of thirteen? How could you have stopped a vampire?" she challenged. He saw the flash of strength and defiance that had probably kept her alive all these years.
"I am much, much older than I look," Drake admitted.
He guessed that she must be deciding to ignore his comment because she moved right on to something else without addressing it. "You have an accent," she pointed out. "Where are you from?"
"I'm originally from Romania. My family joined the Serbia pack not long after I was born. So I've lived in Serbia most of my life."
"Do you remember where you are from?" Drake asked, trying to tread carefully, yet hoping against hope that she would keep talking.
"I'm from Phoenix, Arizona. I don’t know where I've been for the past eleven years. I haven't been above ground since they took me."
Drake’s jaw clenched. "I found you in Phoenix, so you’ve probably been there the whole time."
"I don't know if my family is still there," she admitted. "Sincaro would never tell me if he did anything to them. He would just tell me that I didn't need to worry about them."
"I'm sorry, Bethany." Drake didn't know what else to say.
"It's not your fault."
Tears pooled in her eyes as she stared at him. Her gaze was unwavering and he admired her that she held her chin high after all she'd been through.
"My life will never be normal, will it?" Bethany asked him.
"I'm the wrong person to ask, love. I don’t know what normal is. I'm a werewolf, remember?"
A small smile touched her lips. "A werewolf. I don't even know what to say to that. I mean, I know it's true, obviously. But that doesn't make it any less strange." She seemed to be gathering her nerve before she spoke again. "Why did that woman lock you in there?"
"My wolf is a little unpredictable right now. It's for my own safety as well as others." Her eyes widened and he hurried to add. "But not you. You never have to fear me. My wolf could never hurt you. You're my mate."
Bethany's breath caught and her hand slowly lifted until it was lying over the place on her neck where he'd bitten her. His wolf growled and Drake had to snap his mouth shut. His skin felt hot as she looked at him. Her eyes were wary, but not fearful. There was no accusation there either, which surprised him.
"I'm sorry about the—" He pointed to the bite. "I wasn't in control and my wolf acted on instinct. I wasn't trying to hurt or scare you."
"Mates," Bethany tried out the word. Her eyes seemed to roam over him, almost as if she was realizing for the first time, other than when he'd put on the pants, that he was man—a man not wearing a shirt to be precise. Her gaze was practically a caress as she took in all of the exposed skin. Drake saw something flash in her eyes, something possessive, and he knew it was her own wolf, dormant though she may be. And by the look in Bethany's eyes, her wolf wanted its mate.
"What are those markings on your neck?" she asked him as she shifted to see if there were anymore.
"All of our kind have markings. They are a message to other wolves. The location of the markings let others know the level of our dominance and where we fall in the pack hierarchy. The more elaborate the markings, the more dominant the wolf. When we find our mate, our markings change. They usually move up our bodies to be visible on the neck. The ones on my neck are new."
"How come you only have them on your neck?"
Bethany saw a flash of pain in Drake’s eyes but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. She was trying very hard not to think too much about the fact that she was talking to a werewolf—a very, very attractive, male werewolf.
When her eyes had fluttered open, she'd been taken aback by his rugged handsomeness. He was tall, definitely over six feet in height. He had dark, wavy, unruly hair that was long enough that it would brush his collar if he had been wearing a shirt. His face was chiseled and he looked as though he'd gone a day or so without shaving. His nose held a slight bump in the center where it had probably been broken. But rather than distracting from his looks, it only added character to his face. His body was thick and muscular. Where most of the vampires she'd seen were sleek and trim, Drake was solid, but had not an ounce of fat on him. She pushed away the glimpse of his body that she'd seen when he'd stood up. Her mind was screaming at her to look away but her curiosity and shock wouldn't allow her to.
She knew nothing of the opposite sex. Would anyone blame her for being curious? Drake didn't seem bothered by her scrutiny so she continued to look. If he didn't like it, he'd just have to tell her.
"Would you like me to stand and turn in a circle?" he asked her and her eyes flew up to his. His lips were turned up slightly and humor danced in his silver eyes.
"Yes, please," she answered. If he was going to offer then she'd accept.
His brow rose. He'd obviously expected her to be embarrassed or shy. But what did she have to be embarrassed about? She'd been snacked on for eleven years of her life. She'd been told over and over that no one would ever want her. Once Drake realized the depth to which Sincaro had dragged her into his hell, how tainted she was, he wouldn't want her.
Drake stood slowly, never taking his eyes off of her. It was strangely… well, she didn't know what the word was that would describe what she was feeling.
"Intimate," Drake practically whispered. "The feeling is intimacy."
Her head tilted slightly. "Intimacy?"
He nodded. "It's a closeness, something shared between people who are familiar."
"But we don't know each other."
"We are true mates. Our souls recognize one another."
Bethany didn't understand what he was saying but she had to agree that she did feel as though she recognized him, though she'd never seen him in her life.
Drake held his arms loosely by his sides as he began to turn. Just as his back was to her, she saw something that she hadn't seen when he'd been putting on the pants. "Wait," she said quickly as she stood and moved closer.