“I know. I’ve seen that for myself. I’m not saying I won’t join your pride if we mate—”
“When we mate.”
“When we mate,” she corrected. “I just want you to understand why you shouldn’t take it to heart that I won’t jump for joy at the prospect of no longer being a loner.”
Okay, he could see why she’d feel that way. He could also see that this could possibly jam the frequency of their bond if he didn’t deal with it. He resolved right then that he’d ensure she got to know his family and pride mates better so that she’d feel more at ease with them. Hopefully that would dim her reluctance.
“Will you tell me more about your past?” he asked. “I’m hoping you trust me enough to share it with me. I want to know you. I want to know everything about you.”
Havana almost smiled. How often had she wished he’d say that? Too many to count. Her body relaxed a little more into his. “I want you to know me, just as I want to know you. If you have any questions, just ask.”
He knocked back more beer. “All right. Let’s start with an easy question. Is your name really Havana Ramos?”
“Yes. You look surprised.”
“A lot of loners change their names,” he pointed out.
“Usually only those who are in hiding or get up to shady shit.”
“True. Where are you from?”
“Vancouver. My father was Spanish. He transferred to my mother’s clan in Canada after they mated. They met when she was vacationing in Spain.” Just thinking of her parents made her chest ache like a bitch. She took another fast swig of her drink.
“You talk of them in the past tense,” he noted, his voice low and soft. “What happened?”
She fingered his collar. “It’s not a pretty story.”
“It’s your story. Which means I want to hear it. But we don’t have to speak of it now if it’s too hard for you.”
Her stomach rolled at the thought of revisiting that time in her life. Setting it aside for a while sounded good to her. But how could she and Tate ever build anything if she didn’t let him in? The answer was … they couldn’t.
She took in a preparatory breath that was a lot shakier than she’d have liked. “Our Alpha was an asshole. Yasiel either didn’t know the difference between leading and bullying, or he just didn’t care. My older brother, Rolando, dated Yasiel’s daughter, Neoma.”
Thinking of Rolando made a sad smile pluck at Havana’s mouth. He’d been an overly protective big brother. Oh, he’d teased and pushed her buttons at times like only a sibling would, but he’d never let anyone say a bad word to or about her. She’d adored and looked up to him.
“Neoma was a sweet girl,” Havana went on. “Rolando fell hard for her. So when her father declared he was entering her into an arranged mating, Rolando was devastated. Neoma begged her mother to intervene, but the Alpha female rarely contradicted Yasiel. Rolando had been so sure she’d stand up for her daughter.”
“But she didn’t, did she?”
Havana shook her head. She’d always wondered if the rest of what happened could have been prevented if Neoma’s mother had just spoken up for her only child. “Rolando tried convincing Yasiel to change his mind. But the Alpha didn’t give a shit what my brother or Neoma wanted. He was determined to solidify his alliance with another clan, and he had no compunction about using Neoma to do so.”
Tate rubbed her thigh. “Sad as it is, it’s not an uncommon practice.”
“No, it isn’t. No one should ever be used as a bargaining chip. Neoma was terrified of the male she’d been promised to. He was like her father, only worse. Rolando was determined to save her, but Yasiel wouldn’t budge. So … Rolando challenged him.”
Tate’s brows hitched up. “Your brother had a shitload of courage and honor.”
“He did, but those traits didn’t help him during the duel. Rolando was strong, but he was no alpha. Yasiel outmatched him in every way.” As she’d watched it play out that night with the rest of the crowd, she’d flinched at every bite, scratch, and blow he’d received. His cries of pain had been like red-hot knives stabbing her chest. “Rolando submitted when it was clear he had no prayer of winning the duel. But Yasiel killed him anyway.”
A thunderous expression twisted Tate’s face. “The fuck?”
She understood his shock and outrage. If a shifter submitted during a duel, their opponent backed off—that was how it worked. Or how it should work. But, unlike her brother, Yasiel possessed no integrity. He’d wanted to punish Rolando for challenging him. He’d wanted to scare the rest of the clan into towing the line.
A muscle in his cheek ticking, Tate curved his hand around her nape and gave it a comforting squeeze. “You don’t have to tell me anything else. I can guess the rest anyway. You and your parents abandoned the clan, but you tragically lost them at some point over the years,” he said, his voice humming with anger.
She appreciated the “out” he’d offered, but she’d rather tell the full story now than revisit it later. “I wish it had happened that way. But it was so much worse than that. My dad, Manuel, was so furious and devastated in his grief, he attacked Yasiel the moment Rolando stopped breathing. Then it was a huge pile-on—enforcers jumped in to protect Yasiel, my relatives jumped in to defend my father and avenge my brother. My mother stayed with me, crying and yelling warnings at Manuel to duck or watch his back or move aside.
“It was just … chaos. Pure chaos.” The air had stank of blood, anger, fear, and pain. She’d never forget the screams. Never. “Yasiel and his enforcers tore my father and extended family members apart right there in front of everyone.”
Tate’s eyes fell closed for a brief moment. He tugged her closer and slid his hand around to cup her face. “Baby,” he said simply, the word laced with so much warmth and compassion it almost brought tears to her eyes.
Ignoring the ache in her throat, she went on, “Me and my mother were branded traitors and shunned. She tried to hold on, but she couldn’t. I don’t think it was just the breaking of the true-mate bond that ate at her strength. I think she was just so heartbroken. She died a few weeks later. Then I was alone.”
He muttered a low curse. “How old were you?”
“Twelve.”
His jaw hardened. “You were on your own at the age of twelve?”
She nodded and took a steadying swig of her beer. “I drifted for a while before ending up here. I was living on the streets when one of the regulars from the center found me and brought me to Corbin.”
“Is your old Alpha still alive?”
“Probably. I considered going back there many times to kill him. But my devil was a mess after what he did. It was hard to get her to move forward. I worried that if I went back there even to avenge my family, it would undo all the work I’d done to help her heal.” She inhaled deeply. “So now you know it all.”
Rage beat in Tate’s blood, but he kept it buried. She didn’t need to be dealing with his anger right then. This wasn’t about him. It was about her. Careful not to jostle her, he leaned forward and planted his beer on the coffee table. He did the same with her own bottle and then sank back into the sofa, keeping her flush against him, tucking her face against his throat.