Carnage Island (Reject Island)(69)

But she winces, a little whine coming from her.

Because she’s sore.

So I kiss her instead, gently, telling her with my tongue how grateful I am for her, how much I adore her, how I intend to worship her for the rest of our lives. Then I slowly guide her down to the bed and continue the demonstration of how I promise to always take care of her.

But as I start to kiss a path downward, she flinches again. “Too sore for my tongue?”

“Yes,” she admits, her voice low.

I return to her mouth, telling her with my tongue how proud I am of her for voicing the truth. “I never want to push you to the point of true discomfort,” I tell her. “That doesn’t mean I won’t test your boundaries, but I’ll never hurt you, Clove. Not truly.”

I just may make her bleed a little with my knife.

Or bite her until she screams.

But nothing that would ever do real damage.

She sighs beneath me, completely relaxed again, trusting me to keep her safe. My chest warms from her regard, my wolf extremely appeased by her faith in us. Not only did she voice the truth, she accepted my truth in kind.

Which is why I feel the need to share another truth with her.

To help her better understand our situation.

“It’s not you holding Tieran back,” I confide softly. “It’s me.”

She tenses a bit, her thick near-black eyelashes parting to reveal her gorgeous brown irises. “What?”

“It’s my past,” I explain, slowly rolling off of her to lounge beside her. She rotates with me, her long hair flowing over the pillow beneath her head as she settles into a similar position, facing me.

I tuck my arm under my head and rest my opposite palm on her hip, needing to touch her.

“What about your past?” she asks, fully alert now.

“My father mated a Beta.” My hand wanders naturally along her curves, tracing her side before returning to her hip. I just want to stroke her, to make sure she understands that she will always be mine despite our current predicament.

She mimics my position by tucking her own arm under her head, then rests her palm against my chest. I purr in response, pleased by her touch, then lean forward to kiss her. Nothing too sensual, just a peck of affection that brings a smile to her eyes.

“You’re so beautiful, Clove.”

Her cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink. But she doesn’t thank me for the compliment this time, something that pleases me greatly.

So I continue speaking.

“Alphas and Betas can’t procreate, but he went into the mating knowing that. He didn’t join a clan, either. He simply picked her with no regard for the consequences.” I shrug. “They were young. Only eighteen or so. It wasn’t until he was my current age that he realized he needed an heir.” Well, needed may be a strong word. More like wanted, but I don’t clarify that out loud as it doesn’t really matter.

“How old are you?” Clove asks.

“Twenty-nine,” I say. “Tieran and Caius are both thirty.”

“And you went to Carnage Island seven years ago, right?”

I nod, confirming the history Caius gave her. “We were all twenty-two at the time. I’m only a few months younger than Tieran and Caius.” They have summer birthdays while I have a fall one. But that’s not important.

Except she asks me for our birthdays next.

So I give them to her before asking for her own.

“I turned twenty in September,” she admits before giving the day.

“Are you intimidated by us being older?” I ask, teasing.

She snorts. “Females are usually mated younger than the males in Nantahala Pack. I had a friend who mated a male twice her age last year. Of course, he didn’t look older than thirty since we stop aging then.”

“Carnage Wolves don’t have a designated mating age. We form our clans first, then search for our Omegas. Some clans don’t find one for decades because they’re so rare,” I explain. “We’re fortunate to have found you when we did. Which brings me back to the claiming issue.”

The smile in her eyes dims at that. “So your father realized he wanted an heir…” she trails off, prompting me to continue.

“And he found an Omega willing to give him one.” I say willing with a bit of a sardonic twist because I’m not sure she was that willing. I think he found her at the right moment during a heat and didn’t claim her, but took her child away—me.

Which is why she’s always struggled to embrace me. We never experienced that mother-son connection the way an Omega should with a child.

I clear my throat. “He took her during estrus. Impregnated her without claiming her. And when I arrived, he took me home to meet his Beta and demanded she raise me as her own.”

Or that’s the way the story goes from what I’ve been told.

“It didn’t go according to plan,” I continue. “My mother, the term one I use because I called her that as a child, hated me. Every time she looked at me, she was reminded of what she couldn’t provide my father. And I became her outlet for that hatred.”

I take Clove’s hand to trace a scar along my chest, the ugly white line hidden by my blue ink.

“The tats help hide some of her handiwork, but the texture is still there.” I shift a little closer and guide her hand up to my shoulder. “If you continue back, you’ll feel the scars of the silver belt she used on me. They’re light, as she wasn’t strong enough to do a lot of damage, but it was certainly enough. And she bathed me in silver infused water to keep me from healing.”