Night was encroaching across the desert before Cat managed to get her emotions, let alone her hormones, under control. Confusion was still running rampant, though. The confusion part was probably harder to deal with.
Stepping to the patio outside the large family room, a glass of wine in hand, Cat couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of the landscape, the rich black velvet and diamond-drop brilliance of the sky above and the sweet scent of a land unmarred by the scents and sounds of the city.
For all of Window Rock’s conveniences, at the moment she wouldn’t trade a single sweet breath for all of them. How she’d longed to escape to the shadowed, seemingly barren land over the years. So many nights she’d wanted to run, to hunt, to slip away from the ever-present gloom the Martinez household seemed to possess.
The scent of booze-laden escape didn’t exist here, neither did the putrid scent of guilt, suspicion and hatred. But there had been happy memories, though none had anything to do with Raymond or Maria Martinez.
Grandfather Orrin, with his dry sense of humor and unexpected calls to Raymond to send his “granddaughter” to him immediately. He would hustle her into his truck, wink at her, then sometimes, for days at a time, show her the desert he loved, or the memories he’d amassed in pictures.
Terran, Claire’s uncle, would often take her on vacations with him and Isabelle and Chelsea. A week of lazy wallowing in the sun next to some tropical beach where drinks were delivered by barely dressed men and Raymond’s cruelties didn’t exist.
Where were Isabelle and Chelsea now? she wondered. She knew Isabelle and her new husband, or mate, were honeymooning in some secret location. Just as Honor and her husband-mate, Stygian, were doing.
Undisclosed locations. Yeah. They were hiding in Breed Secure desert homes in the area. They were close, but she hadn’t seen them, hadn’t heard from them.
Chelsea had visited once, but the revelation that her cousin was an imposter had made the visit a bit uncomfortable for the other woman. She’d been distracted, choosing her words carefully as they talked.
Linc was the only member of her former family that she’d seen, outside of Terran and Orrin, in the weeks since the charges against Raymond had been filed.
Charges Linc had clearly wanted to deny. Not that she blamed him. How horrible it must be to have to face what his father truly was. To admit he had come from such filth as Raymond Martinez.
Why hadn’t she contacted him and told him how cruel Raymond was? Because she’d known he would have never stood by and allowed it. And her suspicion that he was part of the Unknown had kept her from contacting them as well. Informing anyone of Raymond’s cruelties might have resulted in him actually contacting the Genetics Council sooner, though, and they would have moved her. What the Unknown hid, no one found. And she couldn’t risk not being there when Graeme came for her as she had known he would. The Unknown would have ensured even he couldn’t find her.
The shadowy group of warriors assigned to protect her while she’d posed as Claire Martinez had pulled back once she’d stepped away from the protection of Claire’s identity, she’d been told.
She’d never needed them, but knowing they were near had always given her a measure of confidence in her security.
A security she didn’t have confidence in now.
Hell, she didn’t even trust Graeme’s or Lobo Reever’s security around the house and she couldn’t pinpoint why.
No doubt she hadn’t found all of Graeme’s cameras, and he would have the house and grounds secured from every corner. Against everything and everyone but himself. The one thing she probably needed protection from the most.
Was he truly as crazed as he seemed sometimes?
She almost smiled at the thought. Of course he was. He’d always been a little left of sane, but as a child, she’d loved him that much more for it.
I never loved you . . . you were my experiment . . .
She flinched at the memory of the pain that had ripped her apart that night. As if someone had reached inside her soul and torn it free of her body. It had destroyed years of trust, of security. It had destroyed her perceptions of who she was, and why he had forced her to live so many times.
Not because he needed her childish adoration. Not because she meant anything to him. Because she was his experiment. The Breed he had created from the scraps of a dying child.