How To Marry A Werewolf (Claw & Courtship, #1)(40)

“I think you may call me Channing now that we are engaged.”

She was arrested. “What’s your first name?”

“That is.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Channing is both my first and last name, because my parents thought they were being particularly cheeky or because they were idiots. I don’t know, I never asked them. They died in an experimental yeast fermentation accident when I was three.”

She blinked. “There’s so much I don’t know about you. And there’s so much you don’t know about me. I should tell you. I must tell you, now, before this engagement is made public.”

He quirked an eyebrow.

“Fine, before it’s made any more public.”

“I know the worst of your sins, my Lazuli.”

“No.” She marshaled her courage. “You don’t. That wasn’t the whole of it. Otherwise, I would have contradicted Kit’s boasting. I could’ve lied. Werewolves have so little standing in Boston, and Kit was only a claviger. He could’ve said I flipped my skirts for him, and I could’ve denied it, truth or not.”

“That is not your style.” He had such confidence in her.

“No, it’s not. But you’ve seen my mother. She would’ve hidden me away, kept me trapped in my room, stopped me from saying anything, and denied it all publicly. In fact, that’s exactly what she tried to do. But it wasn’t possible, you understand?”

He stopped breathing and drew away from her.

Faith’s skin went all over tight and tingled with fear. But she would do this. She owed him honesty. She owed him all her truths. He might keep his own past hidden from her, but she would not be so reticent. If they were to have anything together, it must be based on honesty.

“What happened?” She knew that he did not want the truth, but he asked because she needed him to. Faith loved him for that.

“There was a child.” She flopped her hands open in a helpless gesture. “It only takes one time, did you know that? Well, I didn’t. But apparently, only once.” She gave a humorless little laugh. “Lucky me.”

He closed his eyes, clearly horrified. “What happened to the baby, Faith?”

He is no longer calling me Lazuli. She swallowed, her throat parched.

He grabbed her shoulders, pressed her back so she must lean into his hard hands or fall. His gaze was impossibly cold and fierce.

“What did you do to it?”

Faith understood, then, some small part of his past. Not all, of course; he would have to tell her the rest. But she understood the signs of betrayal in others; she had felt it so often herself. “Channing, I’m not her. You know that, don’t you?”

“What. Happened. To. The. Baby.” A small shake each time.

“I lost it. Late in the pregnancy. Too late, they tell me. I wonder sometimes if the baby knew, somehow, that it wasn’t wanted. So, it rid itself of me.” She looked away, closed her own eyes. “There was a lot of blood. They wouldn’t even tell me if it was a boy or a girl.” She hated describing it. She wanted to shove the memory back where it belonged, locked away as if in the smallest corner of the bottom drawer of her specimen case. A deadly little treasure, like a chunk of cinnabar, that she knew was there, that she had collected, but that would destroy her if she took it out and handled it, dwelt upon it.

He made the funniest sound then, a lost whine-whimpering, and drew her back against him. Arms gentle. But she didn’t deserve comfort, so she pushed away, forced herself to go on. I’ve got to get this all out now, or I won’t have the guts to do it later.

“No,” she said, “Let me finish.”

“No more,” he begged.

She overruled him. “It damaged me. The baby damaged me, tore me open. Inside.” She took a little sip of air. Almost there now. “The surgeon – they had to call him to stop the bleeding – he said… He said I could never have another. Even if the seed took, I’d likely die in the attempt.”

“So, they set you to net a werewolf. Because a werewolf cannot get you pregnant.”

“See why I didn’t fight it? One moment, one stupid, stupid choice, with one stupid man, and this becomes my only option.”

“I become your only option.”

She shook her head, desperate for him to understand. “I still wanted something more, something better. Although I know I don’t deserve it.” Faith could feel her voice cracking, breath hitching. I’ll not cry any more this evening. Enough of that.

“Not that I think I’m worth any form of loving. I just didn’t want my existence to end as well, there, like that, with the baby. Do you see?”

“Oh, Lazuli.” He tried to reach for her again. His face was pained and pulled into harsh lines. Ice cracked open under stress.

She held out her hands, palms forward – wait. This was like lancing a boil and she must pour out all her confessions like pus, ruining herself in his eyes forever. I don’t want your pity!

“I wanted you. You know I wanted you. You were not a second choice, or my only option. You’re glorious and perfect, and grumpy, and angry all the time, and secretive with your past. There are horrors there. I know there are. But it’s different for you. It’s different because you’re a man. And you’re immortal. And you have a pack. You still have everything. No matter what happened to you, don’t you see how lucky you are?”