“My sister?” She blinked at him. “Which one? Lola?”
Shan rolled the beer bottle between his palms, not looking at her. “Yes. I think so. You said she lives in Alaska?”
“You have a good memory,” she said, impressed. “That’s right. She’s a smokejumper. On the same crew as one of Conleth’s brothers, in fact. They’re off on a job right now, I think. Why do you ask?”
Shan shook his head. “Tell me more about her.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re getting a lot of mileage out of one question here, Agent. When do I get a turn?”
“Please.” He looked at her at last, though all she could see in his face was her own reflection. “It’s important. At least, I think it is. Tell me about Lola, Leonie. Not her job, or what she does. Who sheis. What she means to you.”
“Well…she’s my twin,” she said, still baffled as to why he was so interested. “We’ve always been close, even though we’re very different people. She’s a lot fiercer than me, and more adventurous. She’s more independent, too. I suppose we complement each other. When we were growing up, I couldn’t imagine ever being apart from her.”
“And you miss her,” he said. “Very much.”
“Yes, I do.” Her chest ached; the old, familiar stab of absence. “But it was inevitable that we’d end up separated. Ilove building a community, like the camp, but Lola thrives on danger. That’s just our different natures, I suppose.”
Shan had his elbows on his knees, listening intently. “She is not a lion shifter, like yourself?”
“No, she’s not.” His focused attention was unsettling. “She’s an eagle.”
For a long moment, Shan just looked at her.
“Leonie,” he said. “Why are you lying?”
“I’m not!” she protested, stung. Itwastrue—at least now. “Why on earth would I be lying about my sister’s animal?”
“I don’t know.” His hidden gaze stayed steady on hers. “But you are.”
“Or you’re just getting confused by the taste of cheap lager,” she retorted. “Okay, my turn. Truth or dare?”
For a moment, Shan looked like he might argue. Then he let out his breath. “Truth.”
She should ask him about his mate. That was definitely somethingheneeded to confront. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It was stupid, but the prospect of Shan extolling the virtues of another woman made her want to bite someone. Possibly him.
“What happened with your parents?” she asked, and immediately felt that she’d overstepped. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer. I know that must be a sensitive subject.”
Shan looked away. He set his nearly untouched beer down by his feet, then flexed his hand. Firelight reflected from his claws as they retracted.
“My mother was human,” he said quietly. He adjusted his glove, pulling the torn leather over his fingertips. “My father was not. He was like me. Qiongqi.”
“Did he struggle to control his animal, too?”
He let out a breath of laughter, low and harsh. “No. He did not try. He saw no point. He looked as human as anyone else.”
“Did your mother know what he was?”
“Partly.” He gave her a thin, humorless smile. “She knew he was qiongqi. But not that he was a monster.”
“Shan.” She wanted to touch him, but he’d only pull away. “Your animal does not make you a monster.”
He shook his head. “You misunderstand. My fatherwasa monster. On the surface, he seemed charming, caring, compassionate. But it was all a lie. All he truly cared about was satisfying his hunger. He never loved my mother. But she loved him. Very much.”
She did take his hand then. Shan started to draw back, but she didn’t let go. She prised his fist open, lacing her fingers through his to stop him from cutting himself on his own claws.
“Tell me what happened, Shan,” she said. “Please.”
He let out a long sigh. “My father was good at manipulating people. Gaining their trust. Uncovering their secrets, so he could savor their pain. I don’t know what first attracted him to my mother. Maybe it was just that she was kind, and compassionate, and open-hearted. Easy prey for someone like him. Until I was old enough to taste his lies.”
