His Lover, My Mate

Thirty: Less Than Nothing

*Aletha*

Never in her life did she expect him to apologize to her. She'd felt his resentment toward her ever since he brought her back to the Night Pack. In the beginning, he couldn't even stand their touch, because the bond between them had been searing. It had been in pieces, its strings torn and gnarled. She'd felt it all day and night and wondered, what had she done? How deep had her actions sabotaged everything between them? Now, even though it was healing, their bond may never return to its unblemished form again.

She knew from the way his fingers occasionally tremored that touching her still hurt him more than it hurt her. Although the bond didn't give him pain, he had felt everything that had transpired when she went back to Lucien. She'd let him mark her again, and that was when the betrayal began. That was when her entire body had been lit by agonizing fire and it never truly stopped. Every time she looked at him, she felt her insides burn. She felt herself clench inward, because although he'd acknowledged her, he grew distraught. The trance was broken. He was haunted by what he'd felt through the bond. And from the look in his eye, he'd never stopped hurting.

Since the day she saw how the darkness preyed on him, she saw a completely different side to him than she ever had before. There was that gleam to his eye, that darkness that suggested a level of trauma that bordered carnality. It made goosebumps break out of her skin.

What had happened to him? She'd wondered that for days. What happened before? What happened for all those centuries he'd been trapped with his mother?

Horrible things.

She felt his hands leave her face, slowly trailing over to her shoulders, her arms, her fingers. He was reminding her with his touch that he was still here, still with her, and he wasn't going to leave. "You won't do it again?" she asked. "Force me against my will?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Can I ask you something?" she began slowly, watching him.

He stared at her with his dark grey eyes. "Yes," he said. "Go on."

She gripped his hands tightly again. His warm fingers wrapped over hers, and he wasn't letting her go. "Why do you hate your mother?"

She'd remembered back in the throne room when he'd told her he hated his mother the most. His voice had been laced with cold abhorrence for the female. The female who had given birth to him. And it wasn't just the normal kind of hate either. There was nothing close to love in the inflection of his voice. Just endless hatred that ran darker than the night. It sent chills through her body, just knowing such hatred existed in the world.

He regarded her for a long moment. The silence was almost unbearable, and she thought he could hear how loud her heart was pounding against her chest. "She has given me endless nightmares," he began. "They chase me every night, trying to tear me down. For centuries, I've only known nightmares." He fell silent before whispering softly, "I can't dream anymore."

She felt her heart tighten. "Why is that?" she asked, knowing whatever the reason was, it was gruesome. Everything in his expression revealed the darkness behind his past. The unknowingness of it, it terrified her. But she still wanted to know. "Why do you have nightmares?"

His gaze never left hers. Instead, they flashed stark silver. His lips parted, soft, full, and for a moment she thought he would kiss her. He leaned closer toward her and whispered, "Touch my neck."

Her fingers instantly tremored at the intensity of his tone. Her face grew alarmingly hot as she slowly moved her fingers over his throat. But the moment she did, instead of smooth skin, she felt jagged abrasions. She'd always just assumed his skin was flawless from the distance but now as she ran her fingers over his skin, she knew he'd been brutally tortured once. "What happened?" she asked, completely alarmed now.