"What do your parents think of you working as a busboy?" she asked. Her father would die if she'd ever done something like that. He'd always carefully screened her jobs so that they would be appropriate to his career and social standing.
Wren swallowed his food. "They don't think much these days."
She waited for him to continue with that thought. Instead, he went back to eating. Frowning, Marguerite prompted him to explain. "Why don't they think?"
"It's kind of hard for them, since my parents are dead."
Her heart clenched at that. "Both of them?"
He nodded.
"How long?"
"About twenty years now."
He'd only been a baby when they'd died. How awful to not know his parents. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be. I'm not."
She actually gaped.
"They were total assholes," he said quietly. "Neither one could stand me. They couldn't even look at me without their lips curling in disgust. My mom only referred to me as 'it.'"
"Oh God, Wren... that's horrible."
He shrugged. "You get used to it. I'm just lucky I was an only child. If they'd had any more children, I'm sure I would have been killed."
The nonchalance of his tone stunned her. "You are joking, right?"
He didn't answer, but the look on his face told her he wasn't. And to think, in fits of anger she'd always thought her father was an uncaring dirtbag. He suddenly looked like Father of the Year.
"So if your parents died while you were so young, who raised you?"
"I raised myself."
"Yeah, but who was your guardian?"
"Bill Laurens. My father and Bill's firm go way back. After my parents died, a guy brought me here to Bill and he hired Nicolette Peltier to let me stay with her and work at Sanctuary for my keep."
"You don't have any other family?"
"Not really. The ones I have who are surviving don't want me anywhere near them."
"Why not?"
"I'm not right."
A chill went down her spine. Was there something about him she needed to know? "What do you mean, you're not right?"
He took a drink of his shake before he answered her. "I'm deformed."
She glanced over at him as she drove. He certainly didn't look deformed to her. He looked completely fine and healthy. "How so?"
He didn't answer as he opened up another Big Mac and started eating it.
"Wren-"
"Don't ask me anything else, Maggie. I'm really tired, I'm hungry, and I'm in pain. If you really knew me, you'd realize that it's a complete miracle that I'm sitting here and not taking your head off, literally. I just want to get home, okay?"
"Okay," she said even though she was dying for an answer.
They remained silent the rest of the way to Sanctuary. By the time she pulled into the small parking lot behind the house, he'd almost finished his food.
Marguerite came around to help him carry the bags.
He led her to a red back door where they were met with the same angry-looking blond man who had wanted Aimee to keep Marguerite in the bar. "She's not allowed in."
"Move away, Remi," Wren said between clenched teeth.
"You know the rules."
"Yeah, I know the rules. In the law of the jungle, the tiger eats the bear."
Marguerite saw Aimee come up behind Remi. "It's okay, Rem, let him pass."
Remi sneered at her. "Have you lost your mind?"
Aimee pulled Remi back. "Come on in, guys."
Marguerite didn't say anything as they headed up the stairs to Wren's room.
"What was that about?" she asked as soon as he closed his bedroom door.
"Lo doesn't like anyone in her house."
"Oh. I guess I should be going-"
"Stay... please."
Wren knew he shouldn't ask that of her. He needed rest. Hell, he needed care. But none of that mattered. He just wanted to be with her for a little longer. The danger didn't matter. Nothing did except being able to smell her. To see her.
To touch her.
He dipped his head toward hers until she met his lips. He pinned her to the door as he kissed her.
Without thinking, Marguerite buried her hand in his hair. Wren hissed and pulled back as if in pain. Her hand was still stuck in the twisted blond locks.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she said, trying to extricate her hand without hurting him more.
He frowned at her as he rubbed his head.
She reached out to help, only to have him move away. No sooner had she stepped away from the door than it crashed open. Marguerite turned to see the angry middle-aged woman there who'd been in the bar.
Wren made a strange growling sound low in his throat.
"She has to leave," the woman said in a voice that brooked no argument. "Now."
"I want her here."
"I don't give a damn what you want," she said, her voice laden with a French accent. "This is my house and-"
"I pay you enough."
"No," she said, her tone filled with venom, "you don't. Not for this."
The last thing Marguerite wanted was to get him into trouble. "It's okay, Wren. I'll go."
The anger on his face actually scared her. Wren cast a scathing glare at the woman, then escorted Marguerite downstairs to the back door.
"I'm sorry about this," he said as he led her out of the house and back to her car.
"It's okay. I'll see you later."
He nodded, then opened her car door for her. After enclosing her inside, he placed his hand on her window, and the look of longing on his face tore through her.
She put her hand up on the glass to cover his and offered him a smile.
As she started her car Wren stepped back, and watched until she'd pulled out of the lot before he went back inside.
He met Nicolette in the parlor. Aimee stood just behind her mother, looking completely contrite.
"You ever threaten one of my sons again and I will see you dead, tiger."
He gave a bitter laugh at that. "You can try, bear. You won't succeed."
Nicolette held her temper as Wren left her and headed up the stairs.
"It wasn't his fault, Maman" Aimee said. "I told him she could come-"
Nicolette backhanded her. "You ever threaten the safety of this house again, and I will see you cast out. Do you understand me?"
Aimee nodded.
"Papa?" Nicolette shouted for her mate.
He came in from the door that led to the kitchen. "On?"
"Summon the council. I think it's time we see about putting the tiger out of our misery."