Feral: Part One (17 page)

I blinked. "What could you possibly have needed to apologize for?"

He stroked my good cheek and let his other hand wander down to my neck. "While I have not yet experienced most of my instincts, I was aware of how my behavior is going to change during the mating process. I feared how you would react to my conduct."

I gave him an adoring look. "Simon, I somehow doubt there’s anything you can say or do to upset me. Surprise me, definitely. Upset me, no."

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "Is that so,
cara bella?
You looked quite concerned earlier, when you thought that I was angry at you."

I blushed. "I... That's..." I really didn't know what to say to that, which seemed to amuse him immensely. "Yes, well, you seem quite pleased with yourself."

He helped me off the desk and pulled me flush against his chest, grinning wickedly. "I am not half as pleased with myself as I am with you." He chuckled when I glared at him then lifted my knuckles to his lips. "If you would like,
mia diletta
, I could join you later this evening for a short while. I do not wish to impose on any plans you might have, but if I am to be honest, it is a less than comfortable experience being away from you for too long."

I agreed to wait until he’d restored order to his office and allow him to follow me home, knowing my mother had meetings scheduled into the evening. It would be nice to have company instead of being in the large house alone, even more so as the company was the man I was falling more and more in love with every day.

I wasn’t too shocked when he offered to come in and help me prepare dinner. After my accident this afternoon, and the fact all of the nerves in my body were currently so sensitive, I figured it was even more difficult than it would have already been to keep any sort of distance between us. So with him in the kitchen, the salad and the preparation of the chicken were done in record time, and after sliding my main course into the oven, I decided to approach him with my question.

He seemed to sense my hesitation, because he pulled me into his arms, resting his cheek on my curls and purring softly to me. "Whatever is the matter,
diletta?
You seem troubled."

I plunged in head first, believing it best to just get it out of the way. "I wanted to talk to you about what happened in your office."

He went silent and rigid in my embrace. "You regret it." I was sure he meant it as a question, but it sounded more like a statement.

I tilted my head back to gaze into his still dark eyes. "No, Simon. I would never regret what happened. I was just worried—" I glanced down momentarily before my gaze found his again and I sucked on my bottom lip “—you would."

He understood immediately and smiled at me, drawing me back into his grasp and caressing my hair. He tenderly nuzzled my temple with his nose, and when the low rumble started again in his chest, I melted into him, sighing in contented bliss.
"Amore mio,
I made a vow to you that I would attempt to be more accepting of and responsive to my instincts. While I made this promise only to please you, I must confess I am quite pleased to have made such a vow. Even with the uncertainty of the instincts I am feeling, and will feel in the future, I am happier than I have been in all of my centuries upon this Earth."

"I'm glad," I whispered, basking in the emotions flowing between us and allowing my hands to travel over his shoulders and down his back. We stayed that way for a few moments before a twinge of curiosity hit me. "May I ask you something? I should warn you, it may be emotional.”

"Sofia," he sighed quietly, "no matter what inquiries you may have throughout our lives together, if there is something you do not understand or wish to know, whatever it may be, then you are well within your right to ask me. You are my mate and deserve to know everything you wish. I will always tell you the truth."

I swallowed. "I don't want to offend you, but if you hated yourself so much, why did you bother accepting Maymūna back and taking her, Kendal and Grace as a clan?"

He took a deep breath and held it momentarily before releasing it. He pulled back, took my hand and led me to the couch. I could only guess he wanted me as relaxed as possible when he shared whatever it was that was on his mind.

"As Maymūna informed you, while I have loathed my whole being for my entire existence up until now, I have never felt as such toward them. I know the circumstances of their changes—none of which I can tell you as they are their own stories and not mine—and they are vastly different from my own.”

He was quiet for a long before he spoke again. “As I have mentioned before, I was born to aristocracy, and people in such positions at that time were expected to participate in certain events, and I do not speak of balls or banquets, though there were those. They were more often than not full of debauchery, corrupt, but there were other events as well. With such a high standing position, my father and I myself were often in attendance of trials and executions. While I did not always agree with the punishment carried out for most of the executions, I had been raised with the strict belief that one was to honor thy father and mother. That, combined with the fact neither were pleased with my existence, made me determined to observe that rule for the longest time, if for no reason than to keep them… as content as possible with me.

“Then I met the healer,” he whispered, “and I disobeyed my father.”

His voice was distant, hollow, haunted. “I cannot recall how many times I listened to men and women scream and beg for mercy which would never be shown to them upon this Earth. Never once did I speak up on the behalf of those who did not deserve such extremes for their crimes, and worse, those who were innocent. How tragically fitting was it for me to watch the woman I loved in my human life to die in the same barbaric manner, and at my hand nonetheless?”

“Simon—”

“And when I awoke as this, I felt it was my punishment, that I was so unworthy in the eyes of the God I once believed in that I would not even receive my judgment before his throne. I took my little healer to
that man
to be put to death for being a monster she never was, so I believed this was divinely ironic retribution.” He paused. “I kept them because it helped ease the pain I believed I should bear.”

I felt horribly guilty for the hint of jealousy that bled into the heartbreak experienced. I couldn’t imagine the type of horrors my mate must’ve witnessed as a human, from plagues to horrible executions, and then feeling the unparalleled shame and remorse for believing I was responsible for the death of someone I loved. I could not begin to fathom it, and as such was completely clueless as to what to say.

Wordlessly, I lifted my hand and gently massaged his back, a tiny, sad smile curling my lips when he automatically began to purr.

ELEVEN

The rest of my week, and indeed the week after, went startlingly well. Madison avoided me at all costs, I’d noticed, even though she didn’t stop with the nasty looks. I was amazed she hadn’t said anything to me about my little tirade. Given how much she loved to cause trouble, I was even more shocked that she hadn’t run her mouth off to anyone about what I’d said, considering it had to look exactly like it was—not that she knew that.

I also spent more time with Simon, though said time wasn’t generally as active as it was the day I’d been flat on my back on his desk, and I was pleasantly surprised when he continued to join me briefly in the morning before I had breakfast with Brie. I enjoyed more lunches at the Barsetti’s, and a couple of dinners had been added to my weekly rotation. I noticed that after revealing his vampirism to me, the incubus was less worried about appearing like he was eating.

At the present, we were having, or rather I was having, dinner at my home as my mother was out at a gallery showing. I was finishing up the peppers and onions for my steak when I heard his voice coming from the warm living room.

“Cara?
Your father, what was his specialty?”

“Obstetrics.” I double checked the crock pot before wandering into the room to join my mate next to the mantle above the fireplace. I smiled at the pictures there, mostly of me and my mom. “When he opened his own practice, he designed all the rooms and painted the majority of it himself. He was a great doctor and a brilliant artist.”

He didn’t say anything, simply stood there while I let my mind wander. “He loved Olive Garden, and my mom and
nonna
couldn’t stand it. Pseudo-Italian is what they constantly called it. Mom kinda gets annoyed any time I suggest or want Olive Garden. I think she secretly finds it funny, and it reminds her of him now—one of those happy, wistful memories, y’know?

“He’d constantly sing to and with me, and I always loved it, even if he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.” I laughed. “Oh my god, Simon, he was bad! Honestly, his singing voice was horrible, but he was so damn enthusiastic I couldn’t help but love listening to him.”

I reached up and touched one of the remaining pictures of him. “I was furious with him for a long time. I was angry, because in the end, it was his fault.” My smile was gone as I thought of how I lost him. “A high risk patient went into labor about three weeks too early. They wanted her regular doctor for the delivery, so he rushed to the hospital, but on the way there—”

“A drunk driver?”

“Nope, and part of me thinks I would’ve handled it better if it had been, because then he couldn’t be held accountable.” I shook my head. “He’d been doing over seventy miles an hour, and he was in such a hurry, he ran a red light. There was semi doing about sixty, and it t-boned him. I remember waking up to the sound of my mom sobbing, and the first thing I felt was anger. I was angry because he should’ve known better than to go that fast, because he should’ve been paying attention. I was angry because my mom was heartbroken.”

“I… I am sorry.”

“Don’t be, please.” My lips began to curl ever so slightly. “It took a while, but I’ve accepted it. I still have my moments—holidays, birthdays—but I’m okay. As an adult, especially one who’s into medicine now, I get it. It doesn’t necessarily excuse him, but I get it.”

My smile was full blown now. “Y’know, I think he would’ve liked you a lot, although he’d’ve probably done that thing dads do when they’re trying to be intimidating and threatening.”

“And I would have responded accordingly.”

“Oh?”

“La mia,
though I am significantly older than your parents, they were—are—your parents and deserving of having their worries heard and respected. I have not and cannot have children, but from what I have seen throughout my long existence, I understand mortal parents only want what is best for theirs. The only experience they have to compare with is their own, so they often use those events and encounters as their hopes, warnings and guidelines for their own children, and more often than not, I have found, they are right about what is and is not helpful or hurtful to their progeny. There are always, of course, instances where parents are incorrect in their ideas. They are not perfect, but they do love.

“If your father wished to intimidate me, while I can assure you it would not have affected me in the way he would have hoped, I would have still respected his need to protect his child and done everything within my power to assure him of your safety—physically, mentally, and emotionally.”

“Yep. He would have liked you.”

“And your mother?”

“Mom is… special.” I chuckled at his perplexed look. “No, she’s reasonable, though not always entirely level-headed. She sometimes gets easily upset about things, but then she’ll take time to think about what it is that bothers her. She looks at something from every angle and tries to come to a fair conclusion about whatever it is she’s been pondering. And if she ever is wrong with her original, and sometimes loud, assumptions, she will
always
come back and apologize. She has always said, and has always taught me, that it’s not wrong to admit you’re wrong.

“My guess is whenever I introduce y’all, she won’t be thrilled, but she’ll try to be logical about it, even if she has a fit at first.” I turned and reached up to play with his collar. “I guarantee you she won’t be happy you’re a professor, even if you’re not mine, but that’ll probably be her biggest problem. If she can get over that, it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“The age, or the false-age, difference will not be a problem for?”

I shook my head and beamed. “Nope. My father was about seventeen years older than my mom. It’s not quite—what? twenty-one? twenty-two?—but still close enough that she can’t complain.”

He pulled me closer, his arms tightening securely around my waist. “Well, I am sure she is just as lovely as you are,
tesoro mio,
and I cannot wait to meet her.”

I burst out laughing. “I somehow doubt meeting my mother is something you’re
really
looking forward to, but congratulations on sounding so sincere.”

“You doubt me, Madame? I am insulted.” He reached up to caress my healed cheek. “Indeed, while I cannot say I am particularly looking forward to your mother’s potential disapproval, I can sympathize with her concerns. Were I human, these would most certainly be plausible reasons for her to be mistrusting of me, and given she does not know my status as
uno dei non morti,
one of the undead, I will not begrudge her any trepidation.”

He smiled. “Given whom her daughter is and what little you have told me of her, I do not doubt she is a highly intelligent lady. I can imagine we would get along quite amicably, provided she does not loathe me entirely for my association with her only child.”

“She won’t hate you,” I chortled. “She won’t
love
you, but she won’t hate you.”

I was completely and utterly flabbergasted when I made it through Thanksgiving without any trouble from Madison and or texts from Cole, whom I assumed had given up pursuing me. I’d briefly considered introducing my mother to my lover before the holiday, but decided that with her frantic need for everything to be perfect for gathering family, it might be better to wait.