Wrong.
He needed her to trust him.
“I can’t tell you.” Her tone brooked no argument.
A fury the situation hardly warranted rushed like a burning heat through his blood and he felt his gums and fingertips tingle with the shift. Jesus fuck. He took a calming, slow exhalation. Thea’s eyes narrowed on him.
“Are you okay?”
No, he was far from okay. He was disappointed and angered beyond measure by her lack of trust in him and yet how could he blame the lass? Hadn’t he spent the last few days holding her captive, to return her to a man who had brutalized her?
Still, she knew his weakness, and he was giving her his trust by believing her over Ashforth. “You know I’m weakened by silver. What’s the difference?”
Thea crossed her arms under her chest, drawing his attention. The heat within him changed in an instant before he fought it and dragged his gaze back to her face. If she noticed his wandering eyes, she didn’t acknowledge it. “Every supernatural on the planet knows silver is poison to a werewolf, the same way every supernatural knows a wooden stake to the heart will turn a vampire to dust. But no one knows my weakness except Ashforth, and that’s as big as I want to make that circle of death.”
Conall’s frustration mounted. “If you tell me,” he bit out sharply, “maybe I can help you find out what you are, why you have the abilities you have.”
“I’m not interested in knowing.”
He raised an eyebrow at her mulish expression. “Ashforth knows, Thea. If we know what he knows, we’ll have a better chance of understanding what is driving him.”
“Power. I told you that. Absolute power.” She sneered. “Do you know before he found out about me, he was gearing up to run for president? Of the United States. President. So he could be immortalized forever in world history. But then I came along.” She took a step toward him, her intoxicating mix of fresh, floral, heady, sweet scent thickening in the air between them. “Why be immortalized in history when you can be immortal? He thinks I’m a true immortal. Whatever that means.”
Ashforth’s voice filled Conall’s mind. “Well, they’re not true immortals. They can still be killed.” “He thinks you’re indestructible.”
She slumped down on the twin bed next to her. She was the perfect image of youthful weariness, like a thousand-year-old vampire that had stopped aging at twenty. “The vampire who punched me in the chest …”
Conall sat on the other bed. “Aye?”
“My heart wouldn’t budge, Conall.”
His heart raced a little harder at the sound of his name on her tongue. He forced himself to concentrate on the words that had come before it.
“He couldn’t pull it out of my chest, and he couldn’t crush it.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t want to be immortal. I don’t want to live forever.”
Her pain affected him more than he’d like so he covered it with his usual brusqueness. “The only way to find out one way or the other is to discover what you are.”
“And you have no inkling?” She cocked her head in thought. “You’ve never heard about someone like me?”
“No. The only beings that come remotely close are myths and legends. Some supes think of them as our origin stories, a religion. But I’ve never believed in them. I believe in facts and evolution.”
“Then how do you explain me?”
“Evolution.”
She cracked a smile and his eyes lingered on her mouth. “Like X-Men?”
Conall flashed her a wolfish grin. “Aye, why not?”
Thea laughed and shook her head. “If only it were that interesting. I’ve read about those origin stories too. They sound like fairy tales.”
“Aye, well, some people need to believe in fairy tales but it’s a waste of time.”
“Let them have them, Conall,” she whispered sadly. “If it helps them deal with how shitty the real world is, let people have their fairy tales.”
“I’m happy to.” He nodded. “But there are people like Ashforth whose beliefs become a justification for evil. That’s where I draw the line.”
Her eyes filled with wariness. “What does that mean?”
The blaring ringtone of Conall’s temporary phone made him bite back a curse. Pulling it out of his pocket, he saw it was Ashforth. He looked at Thea. “It’s him.”
“Answer it.” Her expression hardened. “He still has your sister.”
The thought of Callie anywhere near the slimy fuck made Conall murderous. A growl erupted from the back of his throat before he could stop it.
A gentle hand on his arm brought his head up from the phone. Thea was touching him. “You can do this. For Callie.”
A calm moved through him and then a sense of loss when she removed her hand. Ignoring the latter, he answered Ashforth with a curt, “Conall.”
“Good, you’re still alive.” Ashforth’s cool, cultured voice threatened to obliterate Conall’s calm but he kept himself under control.