Hunger Untamed (Feral Warriors #5)(65)

This night was a time apart. An island in a churning sea. They had yet to find a clear path to saving Hawke and Tighe, one that wouldn't endanger Ariana and those she loved. But he refused to believe they wouldn't.

He refused to let them die.

And he refused to die himself. Not when Ariana was finally back in his life.

She turned to him, a warmth and depth in her eyes he thought he could happily drown in. "Do you remember the time you filled the garden with flowers, Kougar? Wildflowers of every color and type."

Of course he did. He remembered better the happiness the flowers had brought to her brilliant eyes. "You liked flowers."

"I loved them. I still do."

"I liked making you smile." Being in love with her had felt so simple then. So right. "It was all I ever wanted--to make you happy." The words came out, low, a whisper from his heart.

"Was it?" She cocked her head, looking genuinely surprised.

He frowned. "You were happy."

She hesitated. And in that hesitation, something died inside him.

"I loved you, Kougar." But she turned back toward the garden and the festivities, avoiding his question. Below, two of the maidens shed their gowns and leaped, naked, beneath one of the small waterfalls, their laughter so at odds with the cold invading his mind.

"You were happy." His voice was starting to sound belligerent, but he didn't care. I didn't get that wrong, dammit.

"I was happy," she murmured; but she was hedging, he could hear it in her voice.

"You're lying." The ground was shifting beneath his feet, playing havoc with his balance.

She looked at him helplessly. "I was happy most of the time. At least when we were together."

"I had responsibilities. I came to you as often as I could."

"I know. And we made love, which was wonderful. But . . ." Her hand lifted, then dropped. "I never really knew you."

"We were mated," he snapped. She couldn't just rewrite a thousand years of history.

The look she gave him was starting to spark with annoyance. "Joined, yes, body and soul. But that never gave me access to your mind. I never knew what you were thinking, what you were feeling, unless we were making love." Her brows drew down. "I never knew what made you happy."

"You made me happy. You."

"I don't think you ever told me that."

He glared at her. "You knew." The floor had turned to quicksand beneath his feet.

"You don't get it, Kougar. You never let me in. There was always this wall between us. I could see you through it . . . just as I still can . . . but I've never been able to truly reach you. To this day, I have no idea when or where you were born, or when you were first marked as a Feral Warrior. I loved you, Kougar. But you've never let me really know you."

He stood stunned, silent, his mind reeling. She was rewriting everything he remembered of those two years they'd been together. They'd been happy. He'd been happy. Those had been the best damned years of his life. How could she not . . . ?

A thought slammed into him. "That's why you didn't turn to me after you severed the mating bond."

She shook her head, then sighed. "I honestly don't know. Maybe things would have been different if we'd been closer."

If they'd been closer? Goddess, he'd never been closer to anyone. Except his Feral brothers. The Wind and Horse had known everything about him. Everything.

"I loved you." How could she believe he didn't love her? He'd brought her flowers.

"I knew you loved me, in your way. But no, I never thought I had a very big piece of your heart." She turned to him fully, her hand covering his, her eyes pained. "I never thought the rending of the bond would physically injure you the way it did. I'm sorry for that."

The rending of the bond had been the least of his injuries. When she'd died, when he thought she'd died, he'd lost his heart. Even after all this time, the pain was so sharp, he had to close his eyes against the memory of it. A thousand times sharper than the acid destroying him now. How had she not known how deeply he'd loved her?

He stared at the women below, barely noticing that more and more had shed their gowns and were now dancing in the nude, cavorting in the waterfalls and small pools, their laughter ringing gaily over the music. All he could think about was Ariana's words. That he'd never opened up to her.

He didn't talk about his past because it was nobody's business. And yet, just a few days ago, as they'd tried to re-create one of the old Daemon traps, Hawke had asked him questions about the old days, and he'd told him virtually nothing even though the warrior's curiosity had risen thick in the air between them. Even though he'd felt closer to Hawke than he had any of the current Ferals. Even when he knew Hawke possessed a quick mind and an insatiable curiosity, that telling him tales of those old times, of Hawke's own father, the Wind, would be the finest gift he could have given his friend.

Did Hawke even know he considered him a friend? His best friend?

Keeping it all buried had been his way for so long, he wasn't sure he could share the past if he wanted to. But he'd give just about anything to be able to share those stories with Hawke, at that moment.

And sharing himself with Ariana might be his only chance of keeping her in his life. Could telling her his story be any harder than what he'd endured these past thousand years without her? Could it be harder than losing her again?