She tilted her head to the side and studied my features as if I didn’t make much sense to her.
“Because you’re my child,” she replied in a self-evident manner.
“A child that you didn’t want,” I snapped.
She raised an eyebrow at me. “You’re here, aren’t you? So clearly I did.”
“Not by choice,” I countered, shamed by the hurt and bitterness that seeped into my voice. “You never planned me. If you hadn’t been tricked, I never would have existed.”
She stared at me for a moment. That she didn’t vehemently deny it right away cut me to the core. It shouldn’t have. Why the fuck was I setting myself up to be hurt when I already knew the answer? I’d always known myself to be a bit of a sadist, but I never realized I possessed such masochistic leanings.
“You’re right,” she conceded softly. “Youwere not planned. Never in a million years would I have ever wanted a child with your sire.”
A sharp pain sliced through my chest, and it took every ounce of my willpower not to show how devastated I felt. It was a stupid endeavor as my mother undoubtedly knew exactly what emotions were currently coursing through me. Although I didn’t have proof, I strongly believed that my mother could read minds, at least to some extent.
“So is it true that he also tricked you into keeping me?” I asked, hating myself for further stabbing at the gaping wound.
“Yes,” my mother said with a shrug.
“So youdidn’twant me!” I shouted, anger and a sense of betrayal burning in my gut.
“Yes, you foolish boy, Ididwantyou,” she countered with a conviction that took me aback. “You seem to forget who I am. IfI wanted to be free of the obligation of keeping you, I could have easily circumvented it. Ichoseto keep you. You are my son, and no one—least of all me—blames you for his actions.”
“But you still hate me,” I argued.
“No, you fool,” she said with a snort. “If I hated you, or if I wanted you dead, it would have happened a long time ago. Your sire paid for what he did, with interest. That part is settled. But you are my blood. You aremine. I chose to keep you then, and if I could go back in time today, I would choose to keep you again, and again, and again.”
My throat constricted painfully. How I had longed to be thus claimed by my mother. It shamed me to admit that I had been too much of a wimp to confront her about this. But although my mind acknowledged her words, the broken boy in me continued to struggle to reconcile any of this.
Her face softened, and she gave me one of those far-too-rare maternal smiles that always melted me from the inside out.
“If I wanted you dead, Lyall, I wouldn’t have sent Amara to you,” she said softly.
My back instantly stiffened upon hearing those words, the warm and fuzzy feeling that had started seeping into me evaporating.
“You sent her to save Ranael and to torture me as an added bonus,” I snarled.
To my shock, my mother recoiled. An air of disbelief and almost hurt flashed over her timeless face. I couldn’t recall ever seeing such an emotion from her.
“To torture you?!” she echoed, outraged. “I sent her tosaveyou, you idiot! Without her positive influence, you would have died six months ago. Your life thread was beyond stunted. For far too long, you’ve systematically chosen the wrong paths and acted out in ways that all but guaranteed your downfall!”
Those words struck a nerve. A year ago, my brother Pharos—an Angel of Death—spoke similar words, moments before I had to decide whether to spare Remus’ life, thereby allowing him to have a future with Amara, or kill him so that I could claim her for myself. I would have gotten away with it, too, as I could have easily claimed that there had been no other way to protect her from him. At the time, he had been affected by the werewolf curse which turned him into a rabid, feral beast for the duration of the full moon.
Pharos informed me that my life thread had steadily lengthened since I had allowed Amara’s influence to guide me into making more morally acceptable choices. In my arrogance, and with the tremendous powers that being a demigod bestowed upon me, I never considered my mortality as being a real thing. It shook me to the core to have my mother confirm that I had indeed been steadily edging towards the precipice.
Despite the anger still visible on her face at my accusation, my mother took a deep breath and continued in a controlled voice.
“Sending Amara to you allowed me to kill two birds with one stone. I provided an opportunity for you to change direction while also taking a step closer to bringing peace to your brother. I didn’t have to send her to you,” she added with an intensity that made me uneasy. “Amara and Remus suffered far more than they needed or deserved to just so that I could save you. There were other, less arduous ways that they could have achieved the same goal while helping Ranael. But then I would have lostyou.”
I shifted in my chair and swallowed hard, guilt and confusion battling within me. There was no question they had both suffered a great deal. Especially Amara. The thought that saving me from my reckless lifestyle caused the beautiful human so much torment burned my gut.
“Stop fretting over nonsense, Lyall. You are my son, and you are wanted.”
“Wanted but not loved,” I muttered under my breath, immediately kicking myself for being so pathetic.
“I love all my children equally, silly boy.”
She snorted and shook her head at me as if I was a hopeless case. I didn’t need a mirror to know that my face screamed how dubious I felt about that statement.
