When He's Sinful (The Olympus Pride 3)

If so, Julius wouldn’t find Camden an easy target. “You could have simply called to bring me up to speed. I’m sensing you have another reason for coming here.”

Sheridan was silent for a moment. “I wanted to get a good look at you. See you. You’re my nephew. I wasn’t able to be there for you when you were growing up. Maybe I should have brought you back to the pride after your grandparents died. It would have been for the best. But, after all you’d been through, I didn’t want to force you. And it was understandable that you didn’t want to return to our territory. But you’re an adult now. You have family who’d like to reconnect with you.”

That had his tiger snarling—the beast wanted nothing to do with any of them. Camden flicked up a brow. “The same family members who whispered how madness was in the blood and that I was as doomed as my mother and Julius?” Shock flitted across Sheridan’s face. Ah, he hadn’t known Camden overheard them. Well, Camden overheard plenty of things.

Sheridan averted his gaze. “Emotions were running high for a lot of people back then. Much was said that wasn’t meant.”

“Hmm, so you didn’t mean it when you told my grandparents it would be a mistake to take me away? That I’d probably kill them in their sleep one night?”

A flush stained Sheridan’s face. “As I said, emotions were running high. My baby brother had killed himself. His mate was wailing and howling in agony from the snapping of the true-mate bond—that was when she wasn’t laughing hysterically. And you—” He cut himself off.

“Watched him die, and did nothing,” Camden finished. By the time he’d found his father slouched in an armchair with his wrists slit, it had been too late for anyone to save him. Dirk’s heart had barely beat. So Camden had done the only thing he could do—he’d stayed with his father so the man wouldn’t die alone.

“You were just a kid, and you’d been through hell. I was too deep in grief to make allowances for that.”

“Does that mean you no longer believe I might have killed him? Because I heard you speculate on that as well.”

Sheridan squeezed his eyes shut. “I walked in that cabin and found you sitting on the floor in his blood staring up at him. You were in shock—I realized that later. But at the time, I was a mess. I wasn’t thinking. I don’t even remember much of what I said that night.”

“I do. I remember it all. I remember you demanded that the Alpha execute me and my mother to cut out ‘the bad blood.’”

Gasping, Judith whipped her head toward Sheridan. “You didn’t. Surely you didn’t.”

Oh, but he had. And he’d stared right at Camden when he said it. Recalling it now, his tiger swiped out his paw, his claws unsheathed.

Sheridan scrubbed a hand down his face. “All I can say is that I’m sorry. It doesn’t make up for anything, I know. I don’t suppose that anything will. I let you down. Abandoned you. Blamed you unfairly. I truly am sorry.”

He looked it. Probably meant it. But Camden really couldn’t care less either way. It had been a very long time since he’d cared—or maybe since he’d let himself care—about anything Sheridan said or did.

“I don’t need apologies,” said Camden without heat. “None of it matters anymore.”

“I’m still sorry.”

Possibly, but Camden couldn’t help but get the feeling that Sheridan’s main motivation for issuing apologies was to make himself feel better.

“Well, um, hello there,” said Abdul.

Tracking the enforcer’s gaze, Camden saw Aspen’s bearcat sitting on the hood of a nearby car licking her little paw. His tiger tensed, not wanting her near these people, but he wasn’t entirely surprised to see her there. Both Aspen and her bearcat always had his back.

Letting out a twittering sound, the bearcat waved at Abdul. The four tigers all but melted. People always fell for her sweet, harmless exterior; always forgot the danger. It was easy to do so when faced with so much adorableness.

Her face was sort of kitten-like in its innocence, sporting cinnamon red tear markings and white raccoon-like badges. Her small eyes were as dark as her cute little nose and the rings of her long bushy tail. She had short legs and a kind of waddling gait, which added to the cuteness factor. He’d petted her often enough to know that the reddish-brown fur on the upper part of her body was as soft as the blackish fur on the lower part.

“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you,” said Sheridan, shuffling closer to her. “I’m guessing you came out of the rec center. When did you—ow, fuck, get it off me!”

None of the other tigers moved to help. They stared open-mouthed at the bearcat dangling from Sheridan’s hand by her robust teeth. The man lifted his hand higher and shook it, hoping to dislodge her. The bearcat bitch-slapped him like a champ and then released him, landing easily on her feet. She hurried to Camden and climbed up his body to settle on his shoulder.