13
Alaric
"Why don't I know anything about you?"
I raise my eyes to meet Monroe's. She's looking especially fucking delectable today in a pink floral dress and cute sandals that expose her pretty feet. The urge to bend her over the table consumes me, but I remind myself I need to behave in public. Still, all I want to do is bury my cock to the hilt inside all of her pretty pink holes. The thought is really fucking distracting, so I return my attention to my untouched plate of food in front of me.
We're sitting in the booth of the diner we've been to before, having dinner. She's behaving for once, so I haven't been forced to handcuff her yet. But her question is probing, and I don't like it, so I growl, "Because that's how I like it. You don't need to know more than you already do."
"But I want to know more about you." She hungrily eats her waffles while I devour her with my gaze. Something about the girl is so damn enchanting. "I want to know where you come from and what your family was like. I want to know everything about you, Alaric. What made you the person you are today. Tell me about your family. Please?"
"God, you're fucking stubborn." I pick at my omelet, my appetite waning. "My family... they're long gone by now. I told you already, I don't have a family anymore."
"But what happened to them?" she insists. Surprisingly, her stubbornness doesn't annoy me. It's kind of cute. "Why aren't they around anymore? Did you cut off contact? Did they? And why?"
"They're all dead, Monroe."
"Oh." She bites her bottom lip nervously. "I'm sorry, Alaric. I didn't even think... Did I upset you?"
"No." I shake my head, waving my hand dismissively. "It's in the past. I'm not hurting over it anymore. But I like to keep these things where they belong. Behind me."
"I understand. How... how did they die?" Her inquisitive eyes meet mine. She says she understands, yet her curiosity gets the best of her every time. "Your mom and dad."
"My dad died in prison," I find myself muttering. It's strange talking about this shit. It's been decades, after all, and I don't speak to anyone about my family. But something about Monroe's trusting gaze makes me want to open up for the very first time. "My mom... she was a drug addict since before my brother and I were born. When I was sixteen, she OD'd."
The silence hangs between us, heavy and charged with tension. Finally, Monroe reaches across the table for my hand, gently covering it with her palm as she whispers, "I'm sorry, Alaric."
"Don't be." I don't pull away, surprising myself. "She wasn't a good mother."
"And you said you had a brother?"
"Yeah."
"He's gone... too?" She looks so sad for me. But this isn't a sob story meant for her to feel sorry for me. It's a story of how I dragged myself out of the gutters and made a life, a name for myself. And I'm not going to feel bad about it. After all, everyone around me is long gone by now. And I'm the only one still breathing.
"Yes, he's gone."
"What happened?" she whispers.
"He died two years before my mom," I mutter. "He got shot in a drive-by. He was dead on the scene."
"I'm so sorry, Alaric."
"You don't have to keep saying that." I grin darkly. "I've made my peace with the past. I had to move on to save my own life. But I had help."
"What kind of help?"
"The Lombardis." It doesn't escape me how pale she gets when I mention that name. She's afraid of the Lombardis and for a good fucking reason. If I were handing out advice, I'd tell her to stay the fuck away from them. They're dangerous, lethal. But then again, so am I. "They gave me a home, took me in when my mom died. I had no one else. They took good care of me. But of course, they expected something in return. And that's how my training began."
"Your training... to be a killer?"
I don't get to answer Monroe's question because my phone rings. I scowl at the number displayed across the screen. "Sorry, sugar. I have to take this."
The call is quick and efficient, like always. It's a name, a location, and a date when it has to be completed. Except I don't even get a week or a day. It has to be done by midnight tonight.
My fist tightens around the burner phone as the call ends. I set it down and look warily at Monroe.
"What?" She knits her brows together in worry. "What is it?"