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“I love you, Bryn.” I said it like a promise into the inches of space between us.
She gasped gently, though the gasp was more of a small sob. “Night, I love you, too.” Her hands trembled as she moved them through my hair. I would have loved to focus on how good her touch felt, but she was crying harder now and I didn’t know why.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” I asked, moving my hand up to thumb away her tears.
More fell, coating my hand. “I’m so—so sorry,” she choked. “It’s my fault that your mom—that she—” Instead of finishing, she started crying in earnest.
“Bryn, my love…” I kissed her forehead. “My mother is alive.”
She halted her sobbing just long enough to ask, “She-she’s what?”
“It would take more than a Redwolf to kill Violet Shepherd,” I told her. I’d hoped to lighten the mood, but she started crying again, though this time I knew they were tears of relief and joy rather than sadness. She was starting to cough and wheeze, so I kissed her forehead.
“I hate that you’ve had to believe all this time that she was dead,” I said, stroking her back. “It’s not your fault, and I don’t blame you at all for what happened to her. That was between my family and Redwolf. Everything is okay, you’re safe, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She was crying too hard to respond, so she nodded into my hand. She lifted the sheet and wiped her eyes with it. As her tears began to stop flowing, her breathing became more regular, too. She heaved a sigh and pulled back to look at me. Her eyes were so blue and bright with wetness.
“Night, I’ve been wondering about something for a while.”
“What is it?”
Her lower lip wobbled and she almost started to cry again, but my brave girl didn’t let them fall. “Why didn’t you claim me when you had the chance?”
The question caught me off guard, so I was slow to answer. “I—”
But she was speaking again, too fast for me to interrupt. “If it’s because I need to prove that I’m worthy first, I understand, but it hurts when you tell me that you love me if it’s not true.”
Her words were like a lance through my chest. And the wound that was left behind burned with shame. I had no idea—none—that she was so hurt, or that she’d been carrying this burden around even through all this shit with Troy. She must have been wondering this from the first time we' had sex.
“Bryn, look at me.”
At first, she refused, looking instead at my chest or at the blankets.
“Bryn, please…”
She lifted her head, and her gaze met mine.
“How can you think that you’re not worthy when you’re a descendant of the pack mothers, when you survived through a week of torture, when you bore an Alpha wound and lived, and when you defeated the fucker who’s tormented you your whole life? You are incredible and brave and strong, and if anyone isn’t worthy of you, it’s…” Me. That was what I almost said. But I wouldn’t take attention away from what she was saying about herself. I needed to comfort her. “Bryn, how can you think something so cruel and so wrong about yourself when you’re the most amazing woman I have ever met in my life?”
She started to push away from me, shaking her head. “Because I know I’m not. And with this ugly Alpha wound and all the bruising and…and the shit that Troy put me through…it’d be wrong of me to think that you could ever want me…”
“Bryn.” I tugged her back into my arms, and after a moment’s hesitation, she let me. “Bryn, I wouldn’t deserve to be your mate if I thought any less of you for these wounds, these battle scars.” I brushed my hand over her cheek.
She looked away, glancing at the mirror on the wall across from the bed. She gently touched the wound with her fingertips, prodding the swollen skin with her fingertips.
“But I can hardly stand to look at myself. I can only imagine what you must think about me now. Just because we’ve mated doesn’t mean you want me.”
My heart twisted at hearing her say these things about herself. “Bryn.” I silenced her with a kiss. “No,” I said. “None of that. I will always want you. No matter what, you will always be beautiful to me.”
She let me kiss her again, but she felt listless in my arms. There was still uncertainty in her eyes, and I knew that what I was saying wasn’t enough. She still believed that there was a greater reason for why I hadn’t claimed her, a reason that had to have something to do with her. I knew I needed to come clean about the things that had held me back. Damn my insecurities—I’d done this to her. It was my fault that she doubted me now.
“Mate,” I said, pulling her closer, “it wasn’t you that made me hesitate, it was myself. I was terrified that you would reject me when you found out that I was related to the Redwolfs. After everything Troy and Gregor and the Kings had done to you, I thought for sure that you would hate me for having any connection to them. I didn’t know how to tell you the truth, and I didn’t want to claim you before you had the option to say no.” It felt like I was ripping my heart out to admit this to her, but I pushed through it. Bryn needed to hear this. “I didn’t want to take away your option to refuse to be linked to them, through me, but I had no idea how much it would hurt you.”
“Oh, Night,” she pressed her hands to my chest, “you’re nothing like them.”
“If you knew what I was like before we met, you might not think that,” I said, bitterness giving a harsher edge to my tone than I intended. “All I cared about was taking back my birthright.”
“That’s not true. You wanted to make the lives of your pack better.”
