the hall he moved quickly toward Caprise’s rooms. She had to be here.
Instinct had finally led him here. He’d been trying to scent her on the streets but he couldn’t. Focusing was definitely an issue right about now. He and Nivea had burned the body of the tiger and left its ashes right there in the alley to be washed away by the rain. He’d known Caprise had run off and had considered giving her some space before he went to her demanding to be told everything.
Because make no mistake about it, Caprise would not walk away from him again without telling him. Something happened between her and that tiger, something that tore her apart. No, it hadn’t torn her apart, it had stolen her innocence. Not the way his had been stolen, but just as traumatizing. A part of her had been missing ever since, a part that had been replaced with the cold candor of the female that had returned to Washington, DC. The chip on her shoulder was more like a boulder that she carried because she thought she had to. He was going to set her straight once and for all.
X lifted a hand to knock on her door. But he couldn’t knock. He stared at his own hand, dark skin he’d been used to seeing all his life, bruised knuckles on the same four fingers as he’d always had. The difference now was how those fingers and that hand shook. With a curse he yanked his arm down to his side. He was shaking. Xavier Santos-Markland was never shaken. Ever.
Except now, he was.
Inhaling slowly, he let out the breath and closed his eyes, trying desperately to calm himself before going in. She didn’t need the angry X. If he went in yelling and demanding the way he wanted to, and normally would have, she’d no doubt fight back and keep everything that was already bottled inside her to herself. That’s not how he wanted this to end, not this time.
So he was a lot steadier when he finally knocked on the door. She didn’t answer. He knocked again because X knew she was in there. Her scent was strong now, his nostrils flaring with the sweet musky smell. There was no doubt in his mind she was standing on the other side of that door. So when he knocked once more and still received no answer, X punched in the code and waited until the lock clicked before pushing his way in. Being the one to reprogram her lock after he’d broken it had come in handy. That’s exactly the way he’d planned it.
She sat on the side of the bed, her back facing him. X pushed the door closed and waited until he heard the locks click back in place before walking quietly across the floor. Then he stopped, his teeth clenching, fists balling at his side.
It smelled like raindrops. The scent broke X down to a level he’d never experienced before. She didn’t move, didn’t even lift her head to see him. But X knew she was crying.
“Caprise,” he said. She still didn’t look up.
X went to his knees in front of her, pulling her hands from her lap and holding them tightly.
“Tell me what happened, babygirl. Tell me what he did to you.”
For endless moments she was quiet. So quiet X wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her. Hair curtained her face but tears fell steadily, staining the shorts she wore.
“I thought he was like us,” she said so softly X almost didn’t hear her. “But he was so angry one day, like he wanted to kill somebody. He kept talking about traitors and sabotage. He said he wanted to go back home but that choice had been taken from him. I didn’t know what he meant, didn’t realize he wasn’t talking about the Gungi, until it was too late.” She shook her head but still did not look at him. “Then I tried to calm him down. He wasn’t trying to listen to me. He walked off and was gone for a while. I followed his scent and I saw him. I saw his claws and his eyes and then he shifted and I saw the tiger.” She let out a deep sigh as if the admission itself had been a tremendous task.
Her fingers were limp in his hand, warm, but still. Without thought X saw his thumbs moving over the back of her hand, rubbing the soft skin in soothing circles.
“I was afraid and I was angry. He never said he wasn’t
“I thought he was someone I could count on—that this was who I was meant to be with. But after he lied I knew that was wrong. I wasn’t meant to be with a liar, man nor cat. My parents had already left me because they were cats and wanted more than they should have. I hated everything about shifters, their scent, their looks, their lives. Everything. I wanted to go so far away nobody would ever think I was a shifter again.”
Because he remembered how it felt to be confused and angry, X dropped one of her hands and lifted it to brush her hair back. He cupped her cheek and moved his hand gently so that her head lifted to look at him.
“Where did you go?” he asked.
He swallowed hard after asking her because when he looked into her eyes he didn’t want to talk. All X wanted to do at that point was hold her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and allow her to cry until she was completely diffused. If he had to watch those tears fall from her eyes, he wanted all her pain and hurt washed away with them.
“There was a village a couple of miles from the forest. I was so tired and hungry and I felt sick. Some missionaries saw that I was American and took me in.”
She looked away from him then and took a deep breath. “I was pregnant by Rolando,” she said finally.
“I stayed with the missionaries until he was born.”
He couldn’t ask her what happened next; his mouth just wouldn’t form the words. So for endless seconds they just sat there, neither of them speaking or moving.
“I gave birth and he looked normal,” she started again, her voice a little shakier.
Tears flowed faster, so fast her eyes didn’t even look like they blinked, just leaked incessantly.
“He looked just like my dad.” She took a deep breath. “I named him Henrique because he looked like my dad.”
The hand he was still holding she pulled back. When she stood and walked across the room, stopping at the window, X could only stare at her. Inside, his cat wanted out; he wanted to rip free and find any and everyone who’d ever hurt this woman and break their necks, the way he had Rolando’s. Instead he stood, folding his arms across his chest.
“He died because he wasn’t normal. He wasn’t human,” she said quietly.
Her back had been facing him but she whirled around so fast she was looking at him in the next instant.
“He wasn’t even part human. He was parts of two different shifters and that killed him!” she screamed.
“Did a doctor tell you that’s why he died?” X asked still trying desperately to remain calm.
“There was a midwife and a shaman. They both looked at him and knew he wasn’t normal.”
“But you said he looked like your father.”
She nodded her head vehemently. “He did. Just like my dad. But his eyes were different. That’s how they knew.”
“They knew what?”
“That he was a shifter. The shaman kept saying “shadow” over and over again. But the midwife shook her head. She said something else:
“This midwife, was she an American human?”
“No, she was Portuguese, but she was human. Just like the shaman. When they came back they prayed with me and they…” She hesitated, then took another steadying breath. “They gave me this.”
Caprise pulled down the band of her shorts and pushed the shirt away so that the tattoo on her right hip was visible. X had seen the tattoo before. He remembered the swirling lines that circled into the shape of a heart, something intricately written in the center. He just assumed it was a personal choice to be inked, as his had been.
“It’s his name in Portuguese so that I would never forget. The shaman said to use it as a warning so I’d never mix with another breed or procreate again.”
“You should have told his fake ass to take a hike,” X grumbled, remembering the shaman Yuri who’d actually turned against Ary and the shadows for the American money that Sabar offered him. That had gotten the spiritual medicine man killed. X promised that the next of these bullshit healers to cross his path was getting a bullet
