Page 72 of Craving Her Vampire

“I can’t tell you.”

“Who can?” I ask.

“If you come with me, you’ll find out.”

“Were you given Liam, too?”

“Yes.”

“How about you use big boy words and explain how the fuck me and my brother came to be in the pack?” I growl, standing straight. He squints his eyes. “You always were a bitch.”

“It was a side effect of my childhood,” I say dryly.

His lip curls. “Fuck you. Do you think I liked being a surrogate dad?” He stalks closer. “You were a whiny brat. So was Liam. You wouldn’t listen and fought every demand. Your brother was weak and relied on you for everything. He wouldn’t fall in line. I could have made him into something, yet he complained to you if I stepped too close. Your attitude sucked. Even when you gave up and let us put you in chains, you didn’t really give up.” He gets close enough that our boots touch. “Those eyes would drillthrough my head when we put them around your wrists, filled with fury and hatred. Do you know how many times I thought about killing you?”

“How many?” I whisper, tipping up my chin.

“Just like this,” he growls. “Any normal shifter faced with an angry Alpha would bow, not throw attitude.”

“I’m not a normal shifter,” I say, lifting a shoulder.

“Fuck, get on your knees or do something for information,” he snarls.

“Sorry to say, I only get on my knees if I’m sucking cock.” I cross my arms. “If you take your cock out, well,” I sigh. “You know what will happen.”

“Fuck.” He rakes his hands through his hair and takes a step back. “You know, as much as I hated your strength not to give up, I respected it, too.”

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I breathe, pressing my hands to my chest.

“Then you ruin it.”

“Not sorry,” I reply. “Just out of curiosity; why not kill me?”

He shakes his head. “You reminded me of someone.” Now, we are making progress. His thugs are still by the door, not surprised by our conversation. They know what I want to know.

“Who?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does,” I disagree. “Maybe I want to thank the person. I would be dead otherwise.”

“You can’t thank her.”

“Why? Did you scare her off? She ran away from you?”

“She’s dead,” he whispers. “She can’t run from anyone.”

“Should I be sorry?” I send up a prayer to the poor girl. I am sorry, but I have to find the truth.

“Don’t talk about her. She was a good sister and would never talk back like you.” Quinn was correct. “She was pretty and loved me, so don’t fucking talk like that.”

“How did she die?”

He crossed his arms, turning away. “She was weak.”

“Sick?” I ask, but I don’t think so.

“She was the opposite of you. She couldn’t handle the pressure of what we do. She wanted to stay home and play. Aggression scared her, and the thought of stealing was nauseating.” He looks at me. “It doesn’t matter now. She’s gone.”

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