“Well, Eleanor’s waiting for you near the entrance of the combat circle.”
Tanner swore under his breath. He did not have the time, patience, or inclination to deal with her. But then, he never did.
Leaving Knox’s office, he descended the stairwell of the small building and yeah, there she was. She gave him a bright smile that lit up her face and could probably stop traffic. There was no denying that Eleanor Owens was astoundingly beautiful. Violet eyes. High cheekbones. Long, silky auburn hair. Sensual mouth. Hourglass figure. He’d soon realized that she wielded that beauty like a weapon. Used it to charm, manipulate, and disarm people. It often worked.
“Tanner, I’ve been waiting for you.” Her expression molded into one of mock reprimand as she playfully tutted. “You didn’t answer my calls.”
“I had nothing to say. Still don’t.”
Her smile didn’t falter at his flat tone. “Let’s take a walk.”
Tanner blocked her arm when she tried to link it through his. “There’s nothing for you here, Eleanor. Go.”
Her eyes hardened. “Why are you being so stubborn? I come from a long line of strong, powerful hellhounds. My family would make good allies. I wouldn’t refuse you access to your child or—”
“Eleanor, you already gave me this speech. It made no difference the first time you said it, and it’s not going to change things now either.”
“You can’t honestly tell me that you don’t have any inclination to start your own line. You’re an alpha hellhound who’s centuries old, for God’s sake. I’d wonder if maybe you were gay, but I’ve heard enough rumors about you from women—all good, by the way—to tell me that isn’t the case. Is there another woman in the picture?”
“I’m not gay or in a relationship. I’m just not interested.”
“What about your hound? Surely it wants to start its own line.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Given your age, I find that hard to believe.”
He shrugged. “Believe whatever you want—it doesn’t change the facts.”
She sighed. “Look, I’ll be going into heat again in exactly three weeks—”
“Then you’d better find yourself a male you think is a worthy father for your child. That male isn’t me.” With that, Tanner skirted past her and stalked off.
If Eleanor wasn’t so focused on the physical qualities he possessed, she’d have noticed that Tanner wasn’t what anyone would call father-material. He’d been just a toddler when he was placed in Ramsbrook House. He didn’t remember his own father, and he’d never had anything even close to a father figure while growing up. He didn’t know the first thing about parenting.
Despite that he was a sentinel, he wouldn’t make much of a role model. Ramsbrook hadn’t been a stable environment to grow up in. The staff hadn’t been cruel or abusive, but they’d been incredibly strict in an almost military fashion. They hadn’t been warm or affectionate. Hadn’t given out hugs or comforting words. Hadn’t tolerated any rule-breaking, no matter how small the rule happened to be.
You didn’t bother crying, because you knew nobody would come. You didn’t bother reporting your problems to the staff, because they’d trivialize or outright dismiss those problems. You didn’t dare show any attachment to an object or person for fear that that would be used against you during punishments.
His experiences there had shaped him into a person who even he could admit was riddled with issues. A person who was uncommunicative, volatile, highly private, and disliked relying on people. Someone who was very protective of his possessions, found it difficult to share, and who found it even harder to trust or take people at their word.
He also didn’t easily connect with people, just as his hound didn’t easily form attachments to places, things, or people. The only people that he and his hound had ever let close were Knox and the sentinels—their shared experiences had bonded them in a way that nobody outside of Ramsbrook could possibly begin to understand.
So, given how fucking messed up Tanner was, he honestly didn’t trust that he or his hound would be able to truly form an attachment to their own child. And they had no business fathering one until they were sure that wasn’t the case.
*
“I still can’t believe you let him mark you,” said Raini later that day.
Tightening her grip on the brush handle, Devon turned to her. The succubus was staring out of the window at Tanner, who was talking with Enzo and Lex. He’d obviously come to escort Harper home, just as he normally did near closing time.
Plenty of people had spotted the mark on Devon’s palm throughout the day. Some had merely raised their eyebrows. Others had made passing comments like, “A hellhound marked a hellcat—well that’s new.” News of it would no doubt circulate through the Underground like wildfire, just as news of her kidnapping had.
Devon sighed. “I told you, Raini, it wasn’t that I let him do it. I didn’t think it would work for obvious reasons.”