I considered it.
Telling him that piece of my truth, or keeping it to myself.
I didn't owe him anything. Not really. But keeping secrets from him hadn't exactly done anything good for me so far.
Ultimately, given everything between us, he did deserve to know. I could admit that, even if I didn't want to.
"No one knows this. Not even my family. You can't tell anyone," I whispered.
I slid off his erection, and he let me go. When I eased myself to a sitting position beside him, still tangled up in the blanket, he sat up beside me.
We were no longer touching.
We were no longer connected at all. Not physically, at least.
My overwhelm came rushing back in, but I knew that wasn't his fault, or even because of my own emotions. It was just my magic.
"I won’t.” He took my hand.
I closed my eyes as his touch erased the flow of my magic again.
Was I really going to let him in to that extent?
I didn't really want to, but it felt... important.
If anyone was going to know, it should probably be him.
"My mother met her fated mate when I was seven. Up to that point, it had just been the two of us. She had wanted a child her whole life, for hundreds of years, and she never told my biological father that I existed. We were best friends. I looked just like her. She didn't care that my power was death, and she knew how to walk away from me before my magic could take her life. It was dangerous for her, but she didn't care. She loved me too much to worry," I said.
I had Grayson's full attention. He didn't look away. I felt his gaze on my face.
"Everything changed when she met him. Her mate. Hehatedme. Some of it was probably fear, given my power, but it showed as hate. She stopped defending me. She stopped spending time with me. He became everything to her, and I was an annoyance." I released Grayson's hand and wrapped my arms around my middle. He set his palm on my thigh.
"If I didn't cook for myself, I starved, and I couldn't cook without ending up crying on the floor with a blanket wrapped around me. I was even more overstimulated, as a kid. If I didn't teach myself, I didn't learn, and I couldn't touch the books long enough to teach myself. If I got in their way, he hurt me, and she let him. Afterward, she would fill the bath so I could scrub the blood off my skin, and she would tell me to listen better so he would stop."
The growl that escaped the man beside me could be described perfectly by the words I'd applied to him when talking to Liv not too long ago.
Practically feral.
It sent goosebumps over my skin. The delicious kind of goosebumps.
My throat was swollen. I was supposed to be telling the neutral version of this story, but I was failing. There was no neutrality in those memories, despite their age. There had only ever been pain, and I hadn't ever managed to work through it.
"After two years, he decided he was tired of taking care of me, and that if my mother wanted a child, she could carry his. She agreed. He sold me to someone who had use for my particular brand of magic. She wiped my tears away as she thanked me for paying the fee their unicorn midwife would charge. Then he took me to them. I lost control of my magic partway through the drive, and drained his life. The car crashed, but the people they sold me to found me, and took me."
"Are your scars from them?" Grayson knew those scars better than anyone. He'd asked about them before, too, and I'd given him small pieces of information.
Most were made by arrows. They'd hurt like a bitch. I hadn't been given anything to help with the pain or healing.
"From the people who took me, yes. My mother's mate never left a permanent mark."
"How long did they have you?"
"About five years. Them teaching me to hone my magic the way they did was what allowed me to kill them and escape in the end."
"When you were fifteen?"
I dipped my head in a small nod.
