“No! No, you really haven’t.” The corner of her mouth hitched up just a tiny bit, and she squeezed his hand in return. “I was talking about Fate. It seems so strange to think that Fate could send me some perfect mate, some guy I’m destined to love and be loved by forever when it couldn’t even be bothered to make my parents give a crap about me.”
She tensed when she said the words, as if waiting for a blow or as if her own admission had shocked her. He suspected it might have been a combination of both.
Her hand tugged at his, trying to escape his grip, but Dag refused to allow it. Instead, he used the connection to pull her closer until he could scoop her into his arms and cradle her against his chest. She struggled halfheartedly while he settled himself in her bed, bracing his shoulders against her headboard and arranging her neatly in his lap. When she sniffled, he felt a crack run through his heart.
“I cannot explain the foolishness of your parents,” he said, bending close to press his cheek to her curling hair. “It is unfathomable to me that a parent should treat their child so coldly, let alone that anyone should behave so toward one as good and precious as you.”
She sniffled again, then followed with a laughing snort. “You’re just saying that because you want into my pants.”
“You are not wearing pants,” he pointed out, running his hand up the smooth skin of her thigh beneath the overlarge T-shirt she wore as a sleeping garment. “And as I have already been inside them, the argument loses all meaning.”
She gave another disbelieving snort, but then she let her head rest in the hollow of his shoulder and snuggled closer against him.
Dag continued, “You are precious to your grandmother, so much that she argued with her own child in defense of you, did she not?”
Kylie nodded with clear reluctance.
“You are precious to Wynn, too. Anyone can see the affection she holds for you. She claims you as her sister, in her heart even if not by blood.” He had to clench his teeth to get the next example out without biting something. “And it is clear that you are precious to your other friends, if Victim was any example.”
She slapped his chest lightly. “Victor, you big jerk. You know, you weren’t very nice to him while he was here. I’m sure that’s why he rushed off like that.”
Not nice to the puny human? Dag had allowed him to leave with his head still on his shoulders and his intestines intact in his abdomen, hadn’t he? He called that being very nice indeed, especially given the puppy-dog look of devotion the young male had turned on Kylie every time he glanced at her.
He swiftly moved to his next point. “You are precious to anyone who takes as much as a moment to get to know you, little one, because to know you is to see your true beauty.” His arms tightened around her and he nuzzled the soft, fragile skin at her temple. “You are very, very precious to me.”
She melted against him, which pleased him greatly, but he felt the hot warmth of tears on her cheeks, which made him want to kill something for daring to hurt her. Her relationship with her parents was clearly strained, but he sensed she might object if he tore their hearts from their chests and stomped on them.
He had to content himself with merely holding her, rocking her gently until her tears dried up and her breath went from uneven hiccups to a soft sigh. For a moment he thought she had fallen asleep until she raised a hand and laid her soft palm against his face. Unable to help himself, he turned into it and inhaled the sweet scent of her, loving the touch of bitterness that grounded her and made her somehow attainable for a monster like him.
*
Kylie threw her pity party for five more self-indulgent minutes. She wore the pointy hat, blew the noisemaker, threw the streamers, and ate the cake. Then she sat up and took a long hard look at the man sitting before her.
Dag looked back, his black eyes steady and unblinking, his expression calm and neutral. He didn’t push, didn’t withdraw, he just let her be.
How did he know to do that? Even she wouldn’t have been able to identify that as what she needed, but Dag knew and he gave it. Maybe that was why she trusted him; even after only a week—and what a week it had been—she knew that when he had sworn to protect her, he had meant it. And she knew that when he had sworn he was her mate, he meant that, too.
Did Kylie really want to fight him on it? After all, what good would it do? The man’s head had been carved out of granite, more literally than most, so she knew he wasn’t going to change his mind. She didn’t know if she could change hers, either, but she knew she didn’t like the person she’d been on and off for the last couple of days. She didn’t like being confused, didn’t like being angsty, didn’t like being a big, whining ball of “why me?”