Bound by Vengeance (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles #5)(30)

Growl tensed. Another sound disturbed the monotone sloshing of water. Sobbing. He pushed away from the kitchen counter and stalked into the corridor and stopped in front of the bathroom door. The sobbing was a low sound, meant to be drowned out by the shower. It wasn’t meant for him. Cara was crying.

Growl reached for the door handle, his fingers clutching the cold metal until his bones ached from the pressure. He let go and stepped back. Why was she crying?

Anger surged through him, burning hotter than his lust. He turned on his heel and stalked away from the sound of her tears and didn’t stop until he was outside on the porch. Both dogs had followed after him and now watched him with curious eyes.

Growl curled his hands to fists and stared up at the night sky. He’d never found the sight calming or even inspiring. For Growl it had always looked too vast, too uncertain. Something he couldn’t control or comprehend, not even begin to.

Cara, she, too, was like the night sky. As beautiful, there was no doubt about it.

He could control her, at least physically, but what went on behind that perfect face, that was completely out of his grasp. Her brain worked in ways his would never be able to. He liked things simple. Uncomplicated. She was anything but. Comprehending her, that he would never.

His eyes found the door. If he went inside now, would she still be crying? “Fuck,” he growled and kicked the ground. Both Coco and Bandit jumped back and eyed him warily. Anger was something he was familiar with, something he even found consoling. But tonight it didn’t make him feel better. He was angry at her but he couldn’t unleash his fury on her. No, he could, but he didn’t want to. And that made things worse.

She’d enjoyed herself. He’d seen her enjoy herself. Her body had responded to him. She’d moaned, had given herself over to pleasure. And now she was crying.

He was angry at himself, too. He shouldn’t give a shit about her feelings. He’d heard people cry before, had heard them beg and scream in terror. What was one woman crying? Nothing. But it didn’t lessen his anger. He kicked the ground again. Coco hid behind the chairs and Bandit backed even farther away from him.

He got down to his knees and made a soothing noise. His dogs had never been afraid of him. After a moment of hesitation, first Coco and then Bandit came toward him and pressed up to his body. He patted them for a long time, and finally some of the fire beneath his skin faded. That’s why he preferred the company of dogs. They weren’t complicated. They showed you what they were feeling.

He stood and returned into the house. He wouldn’t let anything or anyone drive him out of his own home. Coco and Bandit followed him closely. Growl closed the terrace door, then listened. The shower wasn’t running anymore. He waited another moment but it was silent. No sobbing, no nothing. Coco left his side and trotted toward Cara’s door, sniffing before she sat down. Growl sighed. Especially Coco had taken to Cara, but even Bandit who never liked anyone, seemed to enjoy the woman’s presence.

Growl strode toward Coco and listened even more closely, but silence reigned behind the door. He grabbed the handle, and before he could stop himself, he pushed it down and opened the door. His eyes found the bed where Cara lay curled up, her legs pressed against her chest. Her face was turned away from him, and when he was honest with himself, he was thankful for that fact. He didn’t want to see her tearstained face. Her breathing was even, and she hadn’t tensed when light had spilled in. She was truly asleep.

That didn’t make him feel better. He shouldn’t have felt anything at the sight at all.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN


Cara

I considered staying in my room, but then I decided that it would be stupid to do so. I hated myself for what had happened last night, but perhaps I could use it to my advantage. I wanted to get on Growl’s good side, so he would help me and my family. Sleeping with him was perhaps the first step in the right direction, no matter how crazy it sounded.

When I walked into the kitchen, Growl wasn’t there but the door to the yard was open. I stepped outside to find Growl sitting on one of the chairs staring off into space. His eyes turned to me, and my cheeks heated, but I returned his gaze.

There was a flicker of surprise on his face when I approached him. I sank down on the chair across from him, wincing slightly.

“You alright?” he rumbled, brows drawing together.

I nodded. “I’m fine,” I said. I didn’t want to discuss my soreness with Growl.

“There’s coffee for you inside,” Growl said. Then he rose and I thought he wanted to avoid me but he returned a few minutes later with a cup of coffee. He’d put way too much milk into the coffee but I was glad for his consideration. I took a sip, then asked a question that had been bothering me for a while.

“What’s your real name? Growl was given to you after that thing with your vocal cords.”

“Was it?” he asked calmly.

I frowned. Suddenly unsure, but nobody was called Growl at birth. “Yes, because of how you sound.”

“Growl,” he repeated and hearing him say the name, it fit him even better.

“So what was your real name?”

“What does it matter?”

“I just want to know,” I said quietly.

He stared off again, as if lost in the past. “I’ve been Growl for a long time. That other name, it doesn’t matter anymore.”