She met my eyes.“My father would never…”
“Are you sureabout that?”
“Actually.” Hereyes filled with tears. “No.”
I set my drinkon the side table and moved to sit beside her. “I’m sorry, love, I’m not sayingthat he—”
“No, I get it.My father might not be part of some kind of trafficking ring, but Myron wouldbe a perfectsoldierfor him, and his family has money, so Daddy wouldabsolutely not hesitate to hand me over to him.” She met my eyes. “My father’samonster,” she rasped, then burst into tears.
* * *
Phineas
No longer able to keep my handsoff her, I pulled her onto my lap and held her close, allowing her to feel heremotions, rather than ease them as only a mate could. If I took her hurt andrage away, she’d lose her righteous anger toward her father, and I needed herto start to separate from him. I had to help her fight the brainwashing she’dbeen subjected to her entire life.
But ultimately,she had to do it on her own. It had to be her decision and I would walk downthe road with her while she worked it out, picking her up when she fell.Because she would fall. Probably more than she could ever imagine. This wasgoing to be both a divorce and a death. A divorce from her entire family andthe death of whatever parental ties she thought were there. She didn’t know ityet, but she was going to have to mourn the life she’d envisioned for herselfand that was going to turn her inside out.
Burying her facein my neck, Lennox slid her arm around my waist and sank into me as I held her.
Að eilífu maki minn. (Forever mate)
These are thefirst words we say to our mates, and our souls instantly recognize them andbegin to connect.
“What?” she whispered.
“Nothing, love.”
She wasn’t readyto hear that yet. Her soul knew what to do, but her mind didn’t, and would tryto reject the information, stressing her out, so I pulled her closer andstroked her hair.
“You’re okay,Lennox, just rest.”
“Phin?” shewhispered.
“Yes, love?”
“What did I dowrong?”
I pulled hercloser, kissing her temple. “Not a goddamn thing, sweetheart.”
“Why does myfather hate me?” She looked up at me. “And please don’t tell me he doesn’t hateme. His disdain seeps from his pores.”
“I don’t know,love.” I sighed. “But what I do know is that it has nothing to do with you.”
“Do you thinkI’m being punished?” she rasped.
“For what?”
She shrugged. “Idon’t know, maybe I don’t pray enough, or I’m doing something wro—”
“Stop,” I growled.
“You don’tunderstand,” she rasped.
“What don’t Iunderstand?”
Taking a deepbreath, Lennox spoke. So quietly, I almost didn’t hear her, but when I listenedwith our mate frequency, I heard more than perhaps I was prepared for.
“One day, when Iwas twelve years old, my father and I rode home from church together. Just himand me alone, in his car. I couldn’t think of another time this had happened,as I usually went home with my mother and my siblings in her car. To this day Idon’t know why it happened, but I remember feeling like the most importantperson in the world at the time. A private audience with my father was a rareand special thing for anyone, including his own children, so I was over themoon. He didn’t take me out to ice cream, or anywhere special, but he didn’thave to. The drive home itself felt magical. Sitting up front, next to mydaddy, talking about this and that, and asking him questions. I’d always beenmade to feel that I was too curious for my father’s liking, but today God had blessedme with my daddy’s attention and his ear.”
