Page 17 of The Guardian (Dark-Hunter 20)
Lydia sensed that that wasn't what he'd started to say. "But you do have a name, don't you?"
He nodded. "You may call me Master."
Fire burned bright in her eyes as she curled her lip derisively. "I call no man Master. Ever. And that includes you, for the record, buster. So get over yourself. Gah! I can't believe the nerve of you."
Those words angered him. "Are you mocking me?"
Lydia seethed at his ridiculous question. "Aren't you mocking me?"
He actually managed to appear stunned by that. Several other emotions she couldn't identify flickered over his features as more blood trickled from his nose. Absently, he wiped it away before he spoke again. "How so?"
She closed the distance between them, wanting to strangle him for it. Was he really that dense? "Telling me to call you Master? What kind of bullshit is that? No one owns me and they damn sure don't control me."
Her anger didn't seem to faze him at all. Of course, he lived and served Noir who, she'd been told, lived in a state of constant PMS. He was probably immune to any form of heated words.
"Fine then," he said in a calmer tone. "Call me Guardian."
She made a deep sound of disgust. Like that was any better? Good grief. Was that really the only choice she had? Master or Guardian?
She shook her head at him. "Your mother named you Guardian? Really? She must not have thought much of you for that." She'd meant it as a joking barb, but he went ramrod stiff as pain flared deep in his eyes-something that told her she'd unintentionally struck a nerve.
Crap ...
"I'm sorry, Guardian. I didn't mean anything by that." She reached out to touch him.
He shot to his feet and stepped back so fast, he almost tripped over his chair. "Don't touch me." Those snarled, angry words came out like rapid gunfire.
She balled her hand into a fist as she saw a huge, fresh, ugly bruise on his cheek through the white makeup. It reminded her of all the others marring his flesh-the bite marks she'd seen on his chest, thighs, and neck. And it was then she fully understood his secret.
His true pain.
"Has anyone ever given you a touch that didn't cause you pain?"
Seth didn't move as her question slapped him hard in the face. But the most painful of all was the harsh truth. Once, a long time ago, he'd lived like a normal person. He'd had people he thought loved him. A family who said he was a part of them.
But that had been a cruel lie. He'd have been far better off without knowing their fake kindness. All that had done was show him what he was missing. Show him what other people took for granted.
Show him what he was unworthy of having.
It doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as I, never mind share my name! How dare you name such a wretch after me. If you think by whelping it you would endear yourself to me, think again.
With his father's words ringing in his ears, Seth started away from her.
But she stepped in front of him, cutting off his retreat. Before he realized her intent, she laid a gentle hand on his cheek that still burned from Noir's fist. The tenderness of it shocked him.
Closing his eyes, he savored the warmth of her touch, and tried to imagine a life where such a thing wasn't a rarity. But the truth wouldn't let him have even that much comfort. It shouted angrily in his head, reminding him of who and what he was.
Who could ever love a mongrel like you?
You're disgusting. Pathetic.
Worthless.
Get out of my sight, wretch, before I vomit. Even when he pleased Azura or a she-demon, they threw him out of bed the minute they were finished with him. He was only a tool to pacify a bodily urge.
Nothing more.
He mattered to no one and no one mattered to him.
Seth opened his eyes to see her staring up at him with kindness burning bright in her topaz gaze.
That lie slammed into his stomach with the force of Noir putting him through a wall. She didn't give a single shit about him and he knew it.
Solin was the one she loved. He was the one she'd come here to save.
A woman like her would never risk her life to save something like him.
Rage tore through him as he realized her ruse. He knew what she was trying to do and he hated her for it.
He snatched her hand away from his face. "What kind of fool do you take me for?"
She actually managed to look shocked. "I don't understand."
Yeah, right. She knew and she was trying to play him. To weaken him. "I'm nothing to you, but an enemy to get past. Don't insult either of us by pretending otherwise."
Lydia winced as his grip tightened on her wrist and he dragged her toward his bed. Panic swelled inside her as she feared his intent.
She started to fight him, until she realized he wasn't going to attack her. Rather he manifested a chain that ran from the bedpost to her ankle.
His eyes glittered like ice as he released her and then returned to his desk.
"You're just going to leave me chained here?"
"Yes." He opened his laptop.
"Really?"
He refused to look at her. "Is that not what I said?" He started typing something.
She was flabbergasted by his overreaction to a simple question. "Are you honestly that afraid of a touch?"
Turning his head, he glared at her over his shoulder. "I told you, I fear nothing."
But she knew better. He wouldn't give her his name. He wouldn't let her see his real face or offer him comfort of any sort ...
"You can lie to yourself all you want to, Guardian. I know the truth about you."
A deep scowl lined his brow. "What truth?"
