“Yeah, it took me a while to realize that was what she was doing.” But she hadn’t done it recently; she’d kept her word and let him in. Both Tao and his wolf felt rather smug about that.
“It’s nothing personal to you.” Ethan paused to drink some water. “I don’t know if you’ve ever been around a child who’s lost a parent, but it’s heartbreaking. Riley was very close to Anabel and Daniel. She’d only just turned four when they died and she didn’t really understand what happened. Even though she pretty much watched Daniel die, she’d look for them, call out for them, wait at the window for them. We’d try to explain the situation to her and she’d nod like she understood, but then she’d go searching for them again.
“Eventually she stopped looking. And then all we’d ever see in her eyes was fear. Fear of being without her parents, fear of being alone, fear of anything else bad happening. She didn’t trust the world anymore. She changed from happy and open to wary and cautious. She didn’t accept new people in her life easily, and if she could annoy them into leaving her alone, she would.” Ethan paused. “You see, deep inside Riley is a little girl who doesn’t think she’s enough to hold anyone to her.”
“Because her father didn’t hold on for her,” Tao guessed.
“It’s probably not fair of me to judge him for it, but she’s my niece and I love her—it’s my right to judge anyone who hurts her.”
“Sage should never have put pressure on her to keep him alive,” said Tao.
“No, he shouldn’t have,” Ethan agreed. “He’s my Alpha and I respect him, but he let her down there.”
Max leaned back. “She’ll take a little time to let you fully in, but that’s only because a subconscious part of her is testing you—if you’re persistent, it will show you’re truly interested and worth the risk. It’s a defense mechanism, I guess, and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t even realize it’s there. But once she lets a person in, they’re in.”
Tao tilted his head. “What you’re saying is that I should be patient with her?”
“Patient?” echoed Ethan. “No. You don’t strike me as the patient type. We’re telling you to keep on chipping away at her walls. If you give her even a moment’s reprieve, she’ll shore up her defenses without even knowing she’s doing it. Riley will drive you crazy, but she’ll also protect you with her life and be loyal to you to the day she dies . . . if you’re worth it. So be worth it. She deserves that in a mate.”
Mate? Tao stiffened. “It’s not that serious between me and Riley.”
Max smiled. “I said the same thing about Ethan when my mom asked about him.”
Ethan chuckled at Max. “I told my mom I was just using you for sex.”
“You were,” said Max.
“At first.”
Tao raised his hands and gently stated, “I really don’t think she’s my true mate.”
Max’s smile widened. “I said that about Ethan too.”
“If you want the truth,” said Tao, “I was a shit to her in the beginning. If I’d had my way, she wouldn’t have been allowed to step foot on my territory. Why is that funny?” Tao had expected her uncles to be pissed at him, but both were laughing.
Ethan took another drink of his water. “When I first met Max, I wanted to kill him. I didn’t even know why. He just rubbed me the wrong way. Looking back on it, I think part of me sensed he was my true mate and felt threatened by it. Taking a mate, making that ultimate commitment, can be a scary thing. There’s no going back from something like that. It can freak a person out.”
Suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable, Tao rolled back one shoulder. “I know what you’re getting at, but I don’t think she’s my true mate.”
Max cocked his head. “You don’t sound particularly bothered by that.”
“I’m not. But things truly aren’t serious between me and Riley. And trust me when I say that’s a good thing for her.” And for him too. For Tao, flings were safe. There were no expectations to “complete” someone, no dependency, no pressure to feel something he hadn’t yet been able to feel for a female. It wasn’t that he was incapable of loving someone. He’d just never been able to feel love for someone outside his family or pack.
Max shrugged. “All right, if you say so.”
He did say so, but neither raven looked as if he believed him.
It was 3:40 a.m. when Riley woke up the next morning. Because it had taken her a while to fall asleep, she’d had three hours’ rest in all. Not great, but she’d learned not to moan about what sleep she didn’t get and just be thankful for what she did get.
Feeling ridiculously alert, she didn’t bother closing her eyes and trying to fall back asleep. Tired though she was, it wouldn’t happen, so she simply lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. Getting out of the bed without waking Tao would require some finesse. He’d proven to be a light sleeper, and, well, he wouldn’t like it when Riley tried to take her breast back.
Tao wasn’t a “cuddler”—which she loved because she didn’t like being smothered—but his hand would often end up splayed possessively over her breast, stomach, or ass while they slept. Her raven liked it.
Hell, her raven liked practically everything about him. In truth, she was becoming a little too attached to him for Riley’s liking. If Tao knew just how territorial the avian felt about him, he’d probably shit his pants and run a mile.
He’d impressed both Riley and her raven yesterday by snapping her out of what her uncles called “her zone.” One minute she’d been in that dark, emotionally sterile pit, struggling to feel anything but grief. The next she’d been absolutely outraged by the dominant hold on her throat, and the world had been a colorful place once again.
It was a world she’d paint red with the blood of the bastard who—
“What’s wrong?” he rumbled.
“I’m fine.” And a little turned on by how deep and gravelly his voice was when he was half-asleep. “Go back to sleep.”
“Stop plotting and let your mind rest.”
“What?”
“You’re a plotter. There’s no way you aren’t planning your revenge.” He kissed her shoulder. “Let it go for now and go back to sleep.”
“It doesn’t work like that.”
“How long have you had insomnia?”
“As far back as I can remember.”
“Is it hard to fall asleep or just hard to stay asleep?”
“Sometimes my mind shuts down pretty fast, sometimes it takes a while to drift off. But I always wake up after a few hours.” She gave a nonchalant shrug. “I’m used to it.”
“I don’t know how you function with it. After I left my childhood pack I had . . . well, I wouldn’t call it insomnia, but there was a month when I kept waking up in the middle of the night and couldn’t get back to sleep. By the end of the four weeks, my concentration was shot to shit, I looked like crap, and I was so damn edgy I bit everyone’s head off.”