“Noah,” I warn. I won’t let him make her feel any worse than she does. I’m done letting her live here in fear of him.
“I was a kid. I’m nothing like…that animal,” she whispers.
Straightening her spine, her next question hangs heavy in the space between us. “What about my mother? Is she alive?”
“Blood must be paid in blood.” Noah rubs a thumb against his palm, a phantom itch.
Nothing.
Just our mixed breathing, deep and hesitant.
An unamused chuckle shatters the silence. Freya closes her eyes, her features contorting.
“We’re not in a Game of Thrones novel, Noah. Grow the hell up.”
Simmering tension tightens Noah’s features.
“We weren’t responsible for your mother’s death, Freya,” I say softly.
Her gaze cuts to me. “So, she is dead?”
I offer a nod in confirmation. Our father doesn’t kill innocent women, but hers does.
“I need to get out of here,” she announces before she takes off running, barging past Noah on her retreat.
“Where the hell are you going to go?” Noah calls after her, giving chase.
“Leave her. Let her absorb everything we’ve told her.”
“Everything you’ve fucking told her,” he sneers, ignoring me and taking off after her.
Waiting a few minutes, I go seek them out, finding her bedroom door closed and Midnight licking his balls on the top stair. Voices mumble from inside. Sliding my back down the wall, I slip Midnight onto my lap and listen for any distress, for her to need me. Something’s happening between us all, and they need time together to deal with this hostility they harbor toward each other, masking what they really feel. I’ll give them that while waiting here. Just in case.
Eighteen
Noah
Remi has a big mouth, but maybe she needs to know. Secrets become toxic, corroding the foundations family is built on. Is she family?
I still don’t know. All I know is there’s been a change between us, and I don’t feel good when she’s in emotional pain despite the fact that I cause most of it.
I wanted vengeance, and I got that. Looking at her is so fucking hard. It reminds me of what we lost, the price she came with. I forced myself to project all the hate I had for her father onto her because the guilt of liking her was too crippling.
Pushing into her room, Midnight jolts from the bed, taking the opportunity to escape. I’ll have to find him later.
As I close the bedroom door, the bathroom door opens, her head popping through the space. Rolling her eyes, she steps out into the bedroom, a towel still wrapped around her. Only…there are no bikini straps on her shoulders now.
“What do you want, Noah? I was going to take a shower.”
“Where do you think you’re going to go?” I ask, bewildered by the change in her attitude this summer. Backbone, she found hers. And I like it more than I should.
“I don’t know. Why do you even care?” She pushes her hair off her face and shoulders. The damp strands hang down her spine, giving me a clear view of her beauty. It’s unnerving, such innocence mixed with undeniable allure. The purity of her striking features stripped bare causes my heart to accelerate, kicking around my ribcage. I imagine this is what Helen of Troy looked like, the face that launched a thousand ships.
“You’re not leaving,” I state.
“I’m not a prisoner, Noah. Father says—”
“He’s not your father.” I take a step toward her, the urge to grip that fragile neck of hers overwhelming. My eyes flash to the scar there. It’s so fine now, light, you’d never notice unless you were up close or knew it was there.
“Oh, right, my father is an evil bastard who infected me with his blood. Am I to be punished forever for a man I don’t even remember? I’m not him, Noah. Just like you are not your father.”
“I know that.” I don’t like her calling him father because it corrupts the illicit thoughts I have of her. I’ll be her fucking daddy if she wants one.
“Do you?” She quirks her brow, planting a hand on her hip. “Because you seem to think I owe some debt. Take it if that’s what you need to do.”
Turning on her heel, she stomps over to her desk, plucking a pair of scissors from a cup full of pens. Holding them out to me, she offers her arm, wrist up. “Take the blood you think I owe,” she demands, anger twisting her features.
“Stop,” I command.
Pursing her lips, she spits out, “Fucking coward. Do it.” She jerks her arm again.
“I don’t want you to bleed, Freya.” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose, a tension headache building.
Yanking her towel away, she stands there bare, stilling every morsel of air in my lungs. Vibrations rumble through my veins.
Claim what’s yours.
“If not in blood, take payment with my body. I’ve been here eleven years, let me clear my balance once and for all.”