Aric glanced to Rowan, found her lips tight with disapproval. His high cheekbones colored and he hung his head in shame. “You’re right, Nicky. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not me you owe the apology.”
He didn’t want to speak to Kalen at all. Anyone could see that. It hurt more than Kalen wanted to admit. But the man closed the distance and nodded.
“I’m sorry, Sorcerer. I fucked up.”
“Kalen.”
“What?” Aric’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“You’re always calling me Goth-boy, kitty, pretty boy, whatever. My name is
“Right.” Aric laughed without real humor. “Sure,
Nick shook his head. “All right, everyone, show’s over. Let’s call it a day.”
Kalen had never heard a better suggestion. As the group broke up, some of the guys clapped him on the back or gave him an encouraging word or two in a show of support. But none, he noted, actually stopped to
Nobody ever had before. Why should now be any different?
Even Mac had left without speaking to him further. No reason she should’ve stayed after the way he’d spoken to her. Aric had been right and Kalen had been too angry to listen.
Now he was alone in the empty corridor, longing for companionship. He’d give almost anything for the joy of the easy friendships these guys shared. Not to mention a beautiful mate like Jax and Aric had found. It seemed those dreams were to remain forever out of his reach.
“Don’t you have anything to say about that?” he asked Malik bitterly.
The bastard didn’t respond, though. At that moment, he would’ve given anything for companionship, even the slimy Unseelie’s, because then he wouldn’t be so alone.
Which was, no doubt, exactly what Malik had planned.
And that was the most frightening thought of all.
Three
Kalen tossed in his bed, twisting in tangled sheets.
The night was too hot, the room stifling. He’d lowered the thermostat in his quarters, but it hadn’t helped. The cotton sheets clung to his overheated skin, sticky and miserable. For hours he’d fought for oblivion, but it remained elusive. He was restless.
So alone.
“You’re quite the detective,” he said sarcastically to the damned Unseelie. “What do you care? And don’t the Fae sleep, either?”
A deep sigh sounded from somewhere outside, in the shadows.
A chill slithered across Kalen’s skin, despite the uncomfortable heat. The Unseelie sounded almost . . . friendly. Was this a new approach to try to worm his way into Kalen’s confidence? “No, thanks. There’s not anything you’ve got that I want to see.”
“Feeling sure about that, huh?”
“And you think you do?” Kalen asked tightly.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Go to hell.”
A darkly amused chuckle floated in the air.
The words filled him with despair. It didn’t matter that he recognized the tactic the Unseelie was using—find the point of weakness in the prey and strike. Kalen’s point of weakness also happened to be the truth.
He’d been alone and adrift since his grandmother died, not long after the day she’d given him the pendant. Ever since, he’d struggled to rise above the hatred, indifference, and ridicule thrown at him daily. It was hard to say which one hurt most.
With Kalen’s grandmother no longer an obstacle, his father’s abuse had worsened by leaps and bounds. Especially toward Kalen’s mother. On that last, terrible night, Dave Black had started beating her for some small infraction, and the sight of her cowering under his blows, crying out, made something snap in Kalen’s soul. He’d shifted into his panther form for the very first time and leaped onto his father, fully intending to rip out his throat. Only his mother’s screams for him to stop spared the bastard his fate.
When Kalen had shifted back, his gratification at seeing dear old Dad’s terror was brief. The bastard’s fearful expression quickly morphed into outright, seething hatred. He ordered his son gone from the house immediately, and he was to take nothing with him.
Kalen’s mother had remained silent, letting it happen. And his heart had broken.
That was his first experience with hatred. There’d been plenty of ridicule—Aric wasn’t the first to call him a freak, to act like Kalen didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as regular people. A recent run-in with a group of backwoods assholes at the Cross-eyed Grizzly came painfully to mind. And yeah, Mackenzie had witnessed that incident, too.
But now that he thought about it, the indifference might just be the worst. He thought of years of walking busy highways and lonely back roads. Everyone passing him by, no one caring where this drifter might be headed or what had brought him so low. Not one hand extended in welcome.
Until Nick Westfall had offered him a job with the Alpha Pack and a place to stay. Maybe—
He couldn’t, and misery swamped him anew. “I’m nothing but a tool to you, too. You’re no different from Nick, if that’s the argument you’re going with.”
“I don’t believe you,” he gritted. “You’ll probably hold me prisoner or something.”
Again, there was the ring of truth. Kalen was chilled, fear taking root deep in his soul. What could Malik possibly have that made him so confident Kalen would join him? What did Kalen want so badly that he’d give in to the darkness, as his grandmother had feared?
Kalen’s pulse beat hard in his throat. “You can’t give me those things. You’re evil, and you’re lying.”
The temptation was too much. Kalen rose from the bed and dressed, hands shaking. He was glad Malik couldn’t see them. After donning the jeans and T-shirt from earlier, he pulled on his boots and slipped from his quarters.
Moving as silently as possible, he made his way down the corridor to the compound’s recreation room. Once there, he crossed to the door leading outside and soon found himself standing in the grassy area at the back of the