“Not since I came here.”
“And when was that?”
“I was eleven.”
“Oh,” she whispered. “Will you…?”
“Will I tell you? No, April. There’s no purpose in it.”
Asking hadn’t been fair. He didn’t know her, and seeing her as his life mate didn’t change that. Not in a single day. But when he talked of a child coming into the world, his eyes held such depth of feeling that her question felt needed, even important. April’s heart knew that something throbbed within his, something that needed the release of words. Strangely, in this moment she wanted to touch him, to take a portion of that throbbing away. As if she had the ability to do so.
And there she went again. Her guard dropping too easily, her heart softening toward someone who could use that softness to hurt her. Why couldn’t she stop being so…soApril?
“It was wrong of me to bring this up. I’m sorry.”
He growled, but the sound held acknowledgment rather than offense. “It was a perceptive question. But please leave it alone in the future.”
“Of course.”
“Thank you.”
She couldn’t bear the silence now. It held onto his past in a grip that squeezed the room itself. She had introduced the topic; she must now move them away from it. But she could think of nothing.
“Would you tell me something about you?” she said at last. “Anything you do want to tell me.”
His shoulders relaxed, but a moment later, a furrow formed between his eyes. “You know the significant parts. I’m a wolf. I’m alpha of my pack.”
“Oh, come on. There’s more to you than that. Do you like music?”
“At a tolerable volume, yes. I don’t sing, of course.”
“As long as you’re not tone deaf, I’d imagine you could do a great Tom Waits impersonation.”
When Malachi laughed, the sound was like a sudden roll of thunder. The vase on the table wobbled with the force of it, and April should have trembled too. Instead she couldn’t help smiling. She had caused that rumbling humor. She hadn’t known this alpha could laugh.
“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” he said. “But it’s misplaced.”
“Okay, how about movies? TV?”
“Some movies are all right, if they’re not adapted from a book. I don’t watch adaptations.”
“Ever?”
He shook his head. “I tried it once. Trevor got us all together to watchThe Fellowship of the Ring.” A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “He wanted my opinion, knowing I’d read the book. Then he was sad that I hated the movie.”
“You realize not all adaptations are created equal?”
“It’s not worth the risk of tainting the pictures in my head.”
“Your opinions are so absolute,” she said, trying to hold in her smile, but of course he smelled the tease in her mood. He didn’t seem to mind though.
“It’s been said.” His mouth tipped up. “What about you?”
“Music, definitely. TV, no—too much of a time commitment to finish the story, and I’d rather read a book. Movies, only if there’s some sort of romance.”
“Strong opinions there too.”
She laughed. He was easy to talk to. Easy to be with. Trying to steel herself against this ease and calm felt like leaving the shelter of a warm cabin and deliberately locking herself outdoors in the middle of a blizzard. But she had to do it anyway. Didn’t she?
