Desire Untamed (Feral Warriors #1)(45)

"When were you born exactly?" she asked finally. Her face was turned to the wind, the breeze tugging wisps of hair free from her ponytail to tease her cheek. A cheek he knew to be soft as silk.

"I was born somewhere around 1314. Maybe 1315. Dates were unimportant back then, and no one ever marked my birthday."

She turned to glance at him, her brows drawing together. "Even your mom didn't know?"

Lyon turned back to the river. "My mother was human. She died when I was born."

"I'm sorry. Who raised you?"

"Me."

"You had no one?"

"I had a father. A Therian. But I wouldn't go so far as to say he raised me. He'd been kicked out of the enclaves years before for excessive drinking. He was basically an immortal drunk. He'd have committed suicide a dozen times over if he hadn't been such a coward, and if it hadn't been so damned hard to do. He hated his life. Hated his wife for dying on him."

"And hated his son for killing her?"

He met her too-perceptive gaze, his gut clenching as a vivid memory rose from the distant reaches of his mind.

His dad dumping him, headfirst, into the rain barrel and holding him there until his lungs were full of water and exploding with pain. The summer solstice. The day his mother had died. It had happened every year on the summer solstice, until Lyon finally stopped going back.

He'd never told anyone. "Why would you say that?" he asked sharply.

Kara shrugged and turned back to the water. "One of my preschoolers, last year… It was his birthday. When we sang 'Happy Birthday' to him, he burst into tears. I took him aside and he told me he wasn't allowed to celebrate his birthday because it was the day he'd killed his mom. His dad had told him that. The next morning, he came to school with a black eye and bruises on his back and stomach. I reported it, and his father was arrested for child abuse."

She turned back to meet his gaze, warm sympathy in her eyes. "I'm sorry that was you, Lyon. Even if he never actually hit you, blaming a child for something that was so clearly not his fault is a terrible thing to do."

"Yeah, well, it was a long time ago." And not a memory he'd ever wanted to keep.

"When you say a long time ago, you're not kidding," Kara said softly. "Hawke did tell me no one knows who your father was. Have you ever seen him since you became a Feral?"

"No. I left him when I was ten or eleven. I'd gotten pretty good at avoiding the fists and boots of the other drunks on the street, and had been feeding myself and fending for myself for years. He beat me once too often. I left and never went back."

Kara's soft hand touched his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Lyon shrugged. What he'd said was true. It was a very long time ago. The memories should have faded long ago.

"Where was this?" she asked.

"The slums of London."

"Were you always called Lyon?"

He gave a soft snort. "I grew up as a scrawny kid by the name of Arthur Bannister. A Feral isn't named until after his first shift, when he discovers which animal has chosen him."

Her sweet face turned to him, her eyes bright with curiosity. "That must have been amazing. To discover you could become a lion."

"It was… strange. And, yeah. Amazing. And one hell of a relief."

A smile trembled on her lips. "Why a relief?"

"Because, back in those days, the moment a new Feral arrived at Feral House, the others started calling him Mouse. It was a long-running joke, but of course, I didn't know that. They swore up and down that the Feral who'd recently died, the one I'd been marked to replace, had been a mouse." He shrugged. "I was sixteen. They had me totally convinced."

"But you turned into a lion."

"I did. It was the proudest day of my life." Her eyes shone as she gazed at him, making something tighten and ache deep in his chest. He cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable. "I'm not sure why I told you all this. I've never told anyone."

"I'm glad you did."

The urge to reach for her nearly overwhelmed him, and he shoved his hands into his back pockets. She was too close. Too tempting. Again, he considered calling one of the others to finish for him. They knew she was a flight risk, now. They'd never let her out of their sight.

But then he'd miss the look on her face the first time she turned radiant. Goddess,, but he was turning into a glutton for torture.

He turned away, putting what distance he could between them. "Let's try again, Kara."

Without a word, she returned to her place on the stone and sat. Could he possibly touch her again without giving in to the need riding him to pull her against him?

The answer to that was a resounding hell if I know.

"Why don't you try it yourself this time," he suggested, and sat a distance from her this time, leaning against the rock wall that formed the backdrop of the goddess stone.

Kara nodded, placed her hands on the stone, and closed her eyes. Lyon stretched his legs out in front of him, settling back as he watched her go through the steps on her own. Concentrating, pulling, over and over until finally she succeeded in pulling the small blue flame. But each time it flickered out. Again and again.

Finally, she held it.

Lyon tensed with excitement, leaning forward. "That's it, Kara." He watched as the flame sank into her hands, flowing out beneath her skin like a faint, iridescent glow that lit her from within wherever it touched.