Page 69 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

I resist the urge to touch my scarred shoulder. "Neither was getting the mark in the first place."

Valek goes very still. "He forced it?"

"Does it matter?" I ask bitterly. "It's gone now."

"It matters," Valek says quietly. "Forcing a bond is..." He pauses, seeming to search for words. "There are lines even monsters shouldn't cross."

"Are you a monster?"

The question hangs between us. Valek considers it, head tilted again in that disconcerting way.

"Sometimes," he says finally.

Honest, at least.

I lean back slightly, trying to read him. It's like trying to read water. He flows around direct questions, never quite answering what you're actually asking.

"Your pack doesn't trust me," Valek continues, pulling a knife from his pocket and flipping it open.

I tense instinctively.

He notices, of course. "Relax. I'm not going to stab you." The knife spins between his fingers, a blur of silver. He catches it with a slight smirk. "Though I understand why they're concerned. My reputation precedes me."

"Uh-huh. Whiskey calls you 'knife psycho.'"

"I've been called worse. Though 'psycho' is a bit reductive. I prefer 'selectively violent.'"

A laugh escapes me. "That's not better."

"Isn't it?" His silver eyes catch mine, and for the first time, there's genuine amusement in them. "At least it implies thought goes into the violence."

"You're fucking weird," I tell him.

"So I've been told."

We lapse into silence. It's not exactly comfortable, but it isn't hostile either. Just two messed up people who don't know what to make of each other.

"Why did you come down here?" Valek asks eventually. "To confront me?"

"To figure out if you're a threat."

"And?"

I study him. The casual danger radiating off him like heat. The way he watches me without seeming to watch me at all. The strange, deep, heavy sadness that shadows him.

"I don't think you're a threat to me specifically," I say slowly. "But I think you're capable of being a threat to pretty much anyone else."

"Accurate assessment." He doesn't sound bothered by it. "Though I should clarify—the only people who've found themselves at the pointy end of my knife are alphas. So far, only alphas who deserve it."

"Why?"

He shrugs.

"Tell me about him," Valek says, catching me off guard. "Wade. What did he do to you?"

So he's an alpha who deserves it, then.

I take a deep breath, considering my next words carefully. "He started out perfect," I hear myself say. "Charming. Attentive. Everything I thought I wanted in an alpha."