Wicked Soul (Ancient Blood #1)(76)

It wasn’t until tonight, until Warin had showed me that I truly wasn’t alone, that I realized that voice had been my mother’s all along.

Once inside my suite, Warin walked over to the side of my bed and sat down, face still drawn with anger.

I sucked in a shuddering breath and wiped at my eyes, calm finally closing in around me now that there was a closed door between me and the rest of the world. “You don’t have to stay. I’m okay, and Aleric must be expecting you.”

“He can wait. Come here, little one. Please.”

I bit my lip, hesitating. On one hand, I wanted nothing more than to be with him right now… because I knew no one else would ever take away the pain. But on the other hand, I knew if I sat on that bed, I’d not be able to hide my brokenness anymore. And there’d be no coming back from that.

“Liv,” he said, so softly I knew if I closed my eyes his words would feel like a caress. “Tell me.”

And so I sat on the bed, letting him intertwine his slender fingers with mine.

And I told him everything.

I told him about my dad leaving my mom to never get in touch again when I had just turned three, about how she’s always resented me for looking so much like him, reminding her of how he'd mistreated her. I told him about how that meant I'd grown up feeling ugly and unlovable. I told him about the man she met when I was four—my sister's dad, Bruce—about how he was so outgoing, successful, and well-loved by the entire family, especially my mom.

And while carefully avoiding Warin’s gaze, I told him how I, when I was seven, had confessed to my Mom that Bruce was touching me.

Warin’s thumb, which had been gently stroking over mine again and again while I talked, stopped. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

So I kept talking. About how my mother had called me a liar, a sick and twisted liar trying to ruin a good man’s reputation.

How she’d stayed with him.

And how he’d kept sneaking into my bedroom until the day he died several months later.

“He only touched,” I whispered. “He never hurt me, or raped me. He’d tell me once I became a woman, that he’d be my first, but he… died long before I did. I think my mom blamed me for his death. I don’t… I don’t really remember what happened, but I was with him when he died. Anyway, because he died in my bedroom and the paramedics asked me why he was there… it became known in the neighborhood that he was a kiddy fiddler. My family never forgave me for ruining his reputation.”

I wasn't aware of the fresh tears until Warin wiped them from my cheek with his free hand before wrapping his hand around my cheeks to lift my gaze to his. Soft sapphire eyes sought and held mine.

“He did hurt you, Liv. Do not ever minimize what he put you through. I know the damage he did to you. There is no excuse, no extenuating circumstances. He hurt you, and you survived it because you are strong beyond words. Not because what he did wasn’t painful.”

I shook my head, biting my quivering bottom lip. It hadn't been invasive or painful, and sometimes it had been… The shame from those times was the worst of it all. “It wasn’t… You don’t understand—”

"No, Liv. I understand.” The softness of his gaze didn't change, but the intensity did. "I know the hurt you went through. All of it. The physical pain is the easiest damage to recover from.”

I stared wide-eyed at him, recognized the age-old pain in the depths of his eyes. He did understand.

Warin moved his hand from my chin to clasp it behind the back of my neck, pulling my forehead in to rest against his. "As for your family's reaction…" His gentle tone had gained a sharp edge. "They were wrong. Are wrong. None of this was ever your fault, and there’s nothing wrong with you, Liv. Nothing. They failed the most sacred obligation of any being on this Earth—they failed to protect their young. And they are wrong."

I sniffled in response, too overwhelmed by the intensity of his words to keep his gaze.

And then his arms wrapped around me, pulling me to his lap, holding me tightly. Glueing me together with the strength of his presence.

"My little one," he murmured in my ear, his steely tone stronger. "Your mother is a weak, wretched human, and she has no excuse for the abuse you have suffered at the hands of her and her family. I know you’ve been taught to accept it, but this time, you need to listen to me: They are wrong; you are wrong. You’re the strongest, most precious thing in this world, and no one will ever tell you otherwise again. I will not allow it.”

His words made me shake violently—from fear, from anger, from relief—from reasons I didn't understand. But he held me so tightly while he whispered soothing things in my hair that I finally, for the first time since Bruce’s death, broke down and sobbed over the loss of my childhood. My family.

Sobs wracked my body, my hands desperately fisting in Warin’s shirt, but when I finally—a long time later—had no more tears left, I felt… free.

I slowly lifted my red and puffy face from the vampire's shoulder and looked into ancient eyes that were completely focused on me.

"I'm sor..."

His finger against my lips made me silent. When he was sure I wasn't going to continue, he removed it.

"Do not apologize. Do not." His gaze was as serious as I'd ever seen it. "Never, ever be sorry for sharing your pain with me. I am honored that you chose me."