“For ages and ages, but I had to hide. Daddy Eli says it’s my way of recovering, because my brain grew up too fast.” She smiled beautifully. “I don’t care though. I has two Daddies now, and they love me.”
Yes, that came across clearly during her recon, Tabitha mused, thinking of all the ways the two men had touched the girl. Not just physically—that elicited a shudder—but it was obvious there was a strong bond between the three of them, emotionally, psychologically.
It was one of the main reasons Tabitha hadn’t eliminated Elias when she had the chance… several times. His family was a triangle of strength and love; removing one of those points would have ruined the beauty of it.
She was partial to beautiful things.
She knew Callie’s history, or at least what she’d been able to find out with a quick search. Religious zealot for a father, limp dishcloth for a mother. She’d gotten herself tangled up with a sadistic pseudo-Dom who’d ended up dead as dead could be—shame, really, as Tabitha would’ve enjoyed spending some quality hands-on time with him.
Wishing Grit would change his mind and take her back to his room so she didn’t have to sit here thinking about monsters she couldn’t kill and social etiquette, she shot him a pleading glance.
Without pausing his conversation, he just shook his head slightly.
Asshole. Feeling a pout coming on, she snatched up the blue crayon and imagined shoving it up his nose. Instead, she idly began doodling in the book as Callie relaxed into her presence and started chattering away in that manic way Littles possessed—words tumbling over each other as she switched from one topic to another in the space of a breath.
“…has an idea!”
“Huh?” Startled out of a peaceful reverie, Tabitha lifted her head, blinking to bring her vision back into focus. She watched Callie scramble to her feet, almost tripping over them, and wondered what she’d missed.
“Daddy Vander!” Callie’s voice rose in demand as she ran to him, shimmying up his oversized body like a squirrel ascending a tree. She giggled when his hands cupped her bottom, supporting her, and whispered something in his ear.
Tabitha’s spine tingled in warning when Evander’s dark gaze landed on her, his mouth curving into a smirk. Those tingles became a cold, rigid spear of ice as he shifted slightly, leaning toward Grit to relay whatever hellish idea Callie had just put in his head.
Her captor covered his mouth, fingers stroking his bearded cheek contemplatively while his gaze roamed over her body. The amusement in his stare told her to stand up and leave right now.
“Little tiger,” he said a moment later, gesturing for her to go to him.
She refused to budge. There was a conspiracy forming beneath her nose; she wasn’t going to fall into anyone’s trap when she could see it closing around her. Folding her arms over her chest, she maintained eye contact, beaming fuck you vibes his way.
Damn him and his socializing bullshit. She didn’t need to make friends or expand her circle. Look at her brother—Jasper had gone from being a lone wolf, the scariest Dom in Avalon, to being a domesticated sadist with a submissive wife and two-point-five kids all because he’d made friends.
He’d invited danger and fear into his world, loving Anarchy so much that the loss of her would one day cripple him.
Tabitha refused to become him, as much as she admired his journey. The loss of herself, the child she’d once been and could barely remember now, was a gaping wound she couldn’t heal. She wasn’t going to open herself to more of the same by making herself accessible to other people.
“Tabitha.”
To her consternation, it wasn’t Grit who approached her this time. She felt her muscles tense when Elias walked over to where she sat, crouching down beside her. The blue of his eyes was so different to her own—darker, richer, warmer.
She’d often wondered if the artic blue of her family line was an indication of their nature. Her nature. She’d been selectively bred, after all, to be cold and emotionless, and painstakingly raised in a way that eradicated the natural inner beauty of a child.
Displays of love toward Dominic and Rita, the only people she’d had contact with until she was older, were ruthlessly squashed. Any desire to be held and comforted when nightmares ripped sleep to shreds or Rita’s experiments became so fucking painful it hurt to even think about taking another breath was, she’d learned quickly, simply unachievable.
When Dominic raped her the first time, she’d already been a master in the art of self-soothing. By the time he’d introduced others to his sick games, making her fight his chosen assailants while she was handicapped, she’d been so scarred—physically and mentally—that even self-soothing hadn’t been necessary.
She learned to take the hits, the pain, the beatings and rapes, and suck them down into the black hole where her heart once occupied her chest.
“We appreciate you coming today,” Elias told her in his smooth British accent. “Callie gets bored easily, as you can imagine. It’s good for her to meet new people while we’re stuck in this troubled time. And, I’m guessing, this is not your idea of a pleasant afternoon.”
Instinctively, Tabitha angled her shoulders to make herself more intimidating. “We can cut the bullshit, Elias. Grit set this up because he thinks I need an education in being human.”
“Astute. I expected nothing less from the woman who signed herself up to murder me.” A flicker of a smile ghosted his serious mouth. “Your humanity isn’t in question, I don’t believe. His concerns lie more in your lack of a social safety net.”
She rolled her eyes. “A net turns into a cage quickly. Your wife is cute, Elias. I’m pretty sure either you or Evander, probably both of you, had objections to inviting a psychopath into your home to interact with her.” She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, leaning forward with devilment in her eyes. “My crazy rubs off on people, you know.”
To her shock, he laughed. Part of her quailed, unsure what to do when the threat of her insanity didn’t work. Usually, her patented crazy face and any mention of her nature was enough to make grown men whimper and scurry away with their tails between their legs.
“I can read people very efficiently,” Elias said slowly as his laugh died to a low chuckle. “Growing up the way I did, making the career choices to get to here, it’s a valuable skillset I developed over many years. Your crazy, as you call it, is your valuable skillset, carefully crafted to protect yourself from whatever hell you face each day. You and my Callie aren’t that different, Tabitha.”