attention to ourselves if we wish to discover the truth behind these scientific experiments on shifter and human brains. I can never apologize enough for what happened, but I can attempt to explain.”
She hesitated, and then nodded.
A bolt of hope shot through him, threatening to take him to his knees, but he ruthlessly stamped it down. “You are now afraid to remain anywhere near me, however, and with very good reason.”
She nodded again, narrowing her beautiful dark eyes but still remaining silent.
“Then perhaps you will do me the very undeserved honor of listening to me for a short time, while I tell you a tale from long ago. All I ask, though it will be almost impossible, is that you try to believe that I am telling you the absolute truth.”
She considered that for several long moments in silence, her hand still on the door handle and her body still poised for flight. Finally she apparently came to a decision, because she gave a brief nod. “All right. I’ll listen to you. For Susannah. But remember what you said about truth. Trust me, I will know the difference.”
Darkness shuttered her expression, almost as if the burden of truth somehow pained her. Brennan shook off the fanciful impression and sat down in a chair in the corner farthest from her, so as not to threaten her any more than he already had. He refused to admit, even to himself, that his legs felt as if they would no longer hold him up. Shame swamped him and he was unable to meet her eyes, terrified of the condemnation he’d see in them. That he deserved.
“Let us begin, then, with an unforgivable truth that occurred more than two thousand years ago,” he said, steeling himself against the disgust he knew she’d feel for his debauched existence and the deaths he had caused. She was the one—she must be the one—and now he would destroy any hope that she would ever have any feelings for him other than fear, revulsion, and condemnation.
After Corelia and the babe, though, he had known he could never deserve a chance at happiness. It had been an eternity since he’d even thought the state possible.
Poseidon had won. Finally and irrevocably. Brennan would tell his story, she would order him from her, and he would welcome death. There could be no going back from this, once it began.
“It was the year you name 202 B.C. I was a young warrior then—” He looked up her, the bitter shame nearly swamping him as she stood, still at the door, clutching the two sides of her ripped shirt together. “Please. If you desire to repair your clothing, I will turn my back.”
She laughed, but it was wild and held no humor. “Repair this? That will take more than the mini sewing kit. Turn around, and I’ll change.”
He did, expecting to hear the sound of the door opening as she made her escape. Instead, after a short pause, he heard the zipper of her bag opening and had to force himself to stomp on the images of her undressing that his mind tried to provide.
“Okay,” she said.
He turned around and found her leaning against the wall, one hand again on the door handle. She’d pulled on a dark sweater to replace the shirt he’d torn, which was no longer in sight. Bitter shame burned through him again, but he gritted his teeth against that or any other emotion. She deserved to hear his story without his sniveling self-pity coloring any part of it.
She nodded at him to continue, her dark eyes fixed and staring as if she were nearly in a trance, whether from fear or anger he could not tell.
“Truth, warrior,” she murmured. “Sing me the truth of your Atlantean secrets.”
Something about her voice sent chills sweeping up his spine. It was different, somehow. Almost hypnotic. Perhaps—but he could not stop to analyze it. No going back, after all. So he sat in the too-small chair in the too-small room and he told her the story of a warrior cursed by his own god.
No going back.
Chapter 5
Tiernan took slow, deep breaths and
She hesitated, and then nodded.
A bolt of hope shot through him, threatening to take him to his knees, but he ruthlessly stamped it down. “You are now afraid to remain anywhere near me, however, and with very good reason.”
She nodded again, narrowing her beautiful dark eyes but still remaining silent.
“Then perhaps you will do me the very undeserved honor of listening to me for a short time, while I tell you a tale from long ago. All I ask, though it will be almost impossible, is that you try to believe that I am telling you the absolute truth.”
She considered that for several long moments in silence, her hand still on the door handle and her body still poised for flight. Finally she apparently came to a decision, because she gave a brief nod. “All right. I’ll listen to you. For Susannah. But remember what you said about truth. Trust me, I will know the difference.”
Darkness shuttered her expression, almost as if the burden of truth somehow pained her. Brennan shook off the fanciful impression and sat down in a chair in the corner farthest from her, so as not to threaten her any more than he already had. He refused to admit, even to himself, that his legs felt as if they would no longer hold him up. Shame swamped him and he was unable to meet her eyes, terrified of the condemnation he’d see in them. That he deserved.
“Let us begin, then, with an unforgivable truth that occurred more than two thousand years ago,” he said, steeling himself against the disgust he knew she’d feel for his debauched existence and the deaths he had caused. She was the one—she must be the one—and now he would destroy any hope that she would ever have any feelings for him other than fear, revulsion, and condemnation.
After Corelia and the babe, though, he had known he could never deserve a chance at happiness. It had been an eternity since he’d even thought the state possible.
Poseidon had won. Finally and irrevocably. Brennan would tell his story, she would order him from her, and he would welcome death. There could be no going back from this, once it began.
“It was the year you name 202 B.C. I was a young warrior then—” He looked up her, the bitter shame nearly swamping him as she stood, still at the door, clutching the two sides of her ripped shirt together. “Please. If you desire to repair your clothing, I will turn my back.”
She laughed, but it was wild and held no humor. “Repair this? That will take more than the mini sewing kit. Turn around, and I’ll change.”
He did, expecting to hear the sound of the door opening as she made her escape. Instead, after a short pause, he heard the zipper of her bag opening and had to force himself to stomp on the images of her undressing that his mind tried to provide.
“Okay,” she said.
He turned around and found her leaning against the wall, one hand again on the door handle. She’d pulled on a dark sweater to replace the shirt he’d torn, which was no longer in sight. Bitter shame burned through him again, but he gritted his teeth against that or any other emotion. She deserved to hear his story without his sniveling self-pity coloring any part of it.
She nodded at him to continue, her dark eyes fixed and staring as if she were nearly in a trance, whether from fear or anger he could not tell.
“Truth, warrior,” she murmured. “Sing me the truth of your Atlantean secrets.”
Something about her voice sent chills sweeping up his spine. It was different, somehow. Almost hypnotic. Perhaps—but he could not stop to analyze it. No going back, after all. So he sat in the too-small chair in the too-small room and he told her the story of a warrior cursed by his own god.
No going back.
Chapter 5
Tiernan took slow, deep breaths and
Similar Books
