Page 26 of Prodigy & Tybalt
“I stole it. Still counts.”
His snort warmed some of the cold in me.
“Hurts,” I admitted, the contrast between his warmth and the cool kiss of the rain calming the chaos a little.
“I know,” he sighed, stroking up and down my back. “It always will, but if I healed from it, so can you. I won’t lie to you, it’s going to be fucking hell for a long time. It feels like it will never end. But you either key his bike and plan his murder, or you find a way to live with it.”
“Murder,” I answered immediately.
Tybalt’s laugh was like rich chocolate and warm sunlight. “Unfortunately for your bloodlust, he’s not here. Neither is his bike, so keying it is off the menu. Looks like you’re gonna have to find a way to live with it. I’ll help.”
I would have argued with that, but he kissed my temple, as if Prodigy’s kisses earlier had opened the floodgates to physical affection between us. I sighed, the very sharpest edge leaving the pain.
“It annoys me that you were right.”
“I’m always right. But about what?”
“It helps. Touch, contact, being close to someone. Being close to you.”
There was a smile in his voice when he said, “Told you so.”
“So mature,” I drawled, feeling a little more like myself. If you ignored the fact I was plastered to him and kept rubbing myface against his throat, covering myself in his scent. “How did you do it? Move on, I mean.”
“I—” Tybalt sighed, his voice a little rougher, the gravel more familiar when he continued speaking. “I didn’t have a typical meet-cute situation. I met my mate after some pretty fucking fucked up shit happened to me, so it was… abnormal.”
“Fucking fucked up shit,” I repeated with a raspy laugh. “You have such pretty speech patterns.”
“Don’t be a dick, Miraya.”
“Just evening out the score, Tybalt. I’m nowhere near your impressive level of dickness, but I’d like to catch up. I’ve already learned a lot under your tutelage.”
“Sarcastic little shit,” he said warmly, pinching my hip. “Don’t ever lose that. The sarcasm, the humour—that’s what will save you. It’s the opposite of pain. If you can laugh in its ugly face, you’re already winning.”
“It’s easier to be sarcastic when my heat isn’t trying to murder me,” I muttered. “What—what happened to you? Am I allowed to ask?”
Another deep sigh punched from him, pressing his body to mine. “You’re allowed. It’s not something I can talk about easily, but—cards on the table, I don’t plan on letting you go. You’re hot and vicious and I wanted you from the first time you called me a dickhead so creatively. I’m keeping you. So yeah, you can ask about the shit going on in my head.”
“What if I don’t want to be kept?” I challenged.
“Then I hope you enjoy being stalked, because I’m not leaving you alone, warrior.”
“That’s so fucked up,” I muttered.
“So why are you purring?”
Dammit. Apparently the part of me that loved Tyb beating the shit out of Lance Brown had the controls for my purr. I couldn’t shut it off either. Especially not when Tybalt’slower, thunderous purr joined mine, a sound of affection and admiration and a fuck-load of possessiveness. That only made me purr louder, made me melt against him.
His hand flexed against my spine and then he said, “Way before I ever found my mate, my piss-poor excuse for a family decided I was dead weight and they’d be better off selling me to provide a nicer life for the child they actually wanted.”
A growl crammed into every space in my chest, the sound of it cracking through the garden like thunder.
“Are they still alive?”
“Yeah, as far as I know.”
“Not for long,” I seethed, my voice low and violent. I found I liked that voice, liked all the darkness and danger in it.
“You gonna let me finish my sad story, warrior, or keep thinking about scooping my family’s eyes out?”
