Page 90 of Scars of the Sun
Had I begun to think of how I’d introduce myself to this female that Ramona had only briefly described as ‘intense and judgmental’? Putting my hair in a neat bun or a braid, trading the jeans and t-shirt for the tailored suits I’d grown to hate so much—but maybe Ramona would like seeing me in one? I’d gotten rid of the silver cow skull bolo tie I always wore while working for my father, but I’d find another or one similar. No fucking way would I wear a normal tie. It was an act of rebellion I’d stood by since I was a child. But I’d bring flowers, dark-colored, beautiful ones with supple petals and bright greenery, and a bottle of wine for her parents. I’d use every ounce of the manners Mamá taught me.
And here I was, messing up another meeting with my mate’s family from the jump.
Instead of maybe a little wary, her mother now had a very negative first impression of me. One with her daughter bentover a table. Well, if I ran away with Ramona, it wouldn’t really matter anyway.
Her mother scoffed and took a disgusted look around the room, arms crossed. “No. Your ungrateful brother wouldn’t answer the phone, and when I called his wife, she claimed to not know where you were. Just that you weren’t with them.” Did I mention how much I liked Sylvie? She almost ripped my face off that one time, but she’d very quickly grown on me.
Ramona’s shoulders relaxed minutely, undoubtedly glad that her brother and sister-in-law hadn’t divulged the information that they were privy to. “His mate. And the mother of your grandchildren, by the way.”
Something flickered across the female’s face, but it was quickly erased with more of that pinched annoyance when she looked at me again. As if being angry with me was easier than facing Ramona’s words. Ah, was she one of those mothers that were weird about their son’s female partners taking them away or something? There was no doubt in my mind that when we finally reunited with Mamá, she’d embrace my mate with open arms.
“Leave. I need to speak with my other ungrateful child.”
I opened my mouth, but Ramona bristled and shot back. “He’s not going anywhere, and neither am I.” Her words were firm, but her breaths were picking up. Arms still against my chest, she started pulling at the cuffs of the hoodie. I gave her a reassuring pet on her back and kissed her temple. If I couldn’t kill her mother for being one of the factors that’d pushed my princess into such a deep depression, I would at least comfort her during their confrontation.
“You let him treat you like a whore, you stupid girl. What has gotten into you? Your father and I gave you far too much for you to act this way. Have you completely lost your mind?” Her voice rose to a biting yell that grated on my ears.
And instead of biting back, I felt my Ramona let loose a tremble. I tore my gaze from her mother to find her jaw clenched hard enough to crack a molar and the beginnings of tears shimmering in her eyes.
All right, that was it.
I gently removed her from my lap and whispered in here ear, “It’s okay, Princess,” when she continued to cling onto the front of my shirt. The skin of the backs of her hands was petal-soft, and after a few coaxing rubs, she released me.
My own father’s abuse had come with calm, quiet commands, hard looks, and blows. Yelling didn’t trigger me, but I already knew it did for Ramona. I stood between the two of them, shielding my mate from view once again. She’d been through enough.
“You need to leave.”
Her mother swallowed but stood her ground. “I’m her mother.”
I gave a dry chuckle. “You are. But if you’re going to continue speaking disrespectfully to my mate, I’ll have to make you leave. And I’d rather not.”
Instead of acknowledging what I said, she looked around my shoulder and settled those pinning blue eyes on her daughter. “You’re not thinking clearly, Ramona. You have a whole life back in New York. An apartment and a fantastic school to go back to. Are you really giving that up for a boy you certainly have no future with?”
I growled, pissed the fuck off at her implication that I couldn’t give Ramona what she deserved and the fact that she’d hit a little too close to the worries that’d kept me up more nights than not.
Ramona shot to her feet and stood beside me. “I didn’t give up anything for anyone,” her voice trembled, but she pressed on. “I left because I needed to. Being here with Orion, Sylvie, andthe kids has been good for me.He’sbeen good for me.” My heart gave an excited thump.
“This is ridiculous—” the female started toward Ramona, hand outstretched to grab my mate’s arm, but I took hold of her pale wrist instead.
“That’s enough,” I snarled, “You don’t touch her.”
She struggled with my fingers on her, “And who the fuck are you?”
I could tell it was a question she didn’t give a shit about the answer for, but it slipped out of me anyway. “I’m hers.”
The door to the green room opened, filtering in the roar of cheers and glasses clinking, and a few members of the band that’d gone on after us barged in with wide smiles and panting breaths. They were too hopped up on their post-show adrenaline to pay us any mind, continuing to rave about the crowd and their set.
I took the opportunity to turn back to Ramona. “You ready to go, baby?”
Her honey eyes looked up at me like I hung the moon, and her back was no longer curling forward but straight and strong. The tiny nod she gave me was all I needed, and I dropped my hold on her mother and replaced it with my arm around her shoulders. I couldn’t resist kissing her temple as I marched us back toward the bar.
Brody and Jess were in the audience, cheering on the band that was playing now, but Tyler and the Wolf I was still not opposed to killing were nowhere to be found. All of them were just a passing thought, though, as I led me and Ramona outside and back toward home. By the tightness in her shoulders, I knew that she wasn’t in the space to be around others right now. The shit with her mom ran deep, so I would take her where it was safe to process. Whatever she needed from me, I’d provide.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
RÍO
Isteadied my bike while Ramona climbed off and removed her helmet. I cut the engine and kicked down the stand, parking beside Sylvie’s red car. The harsh, winter frost scent of her mother was heavy in the summer air, and I rolled my tense shoulders.