the tattoo that covered his shoulder. “And this one is mine.”
Braeden’s palm skated over the tanned, velvety skin stretched over Rand’s pectoral. “He made sure to leave plenty of room here for your mark, darlin’.”
She blinked at him. “But I don’t belong to any clan.”
“Your family.” Braeden chuckled. “Surely you’ve got one of those. We can always do a little research and find out if your people have an ancestral crest.”
The pain she thought she’d buried so well caught her unawares, the dull ache of it seeping into her heart. She swallowed, her throat and chest unbearably heavy. Old insecurities rose to the forefront, whispering a jumbled, discordant chorus of hateful words that cut her to the bone.
Freak. That’s all you’ll ever be. A little, good-for-nothing freak.
Desperate to hide from the taunting specter inside her head, she stumbled back a step. Rand’s fingers squeezed hers tight, refusing to grant her the escape she longed for.
“Nessie.” The soft command in Rand’s voice managed to edge past her panic and she stared up at him, instantly becoming ensnared in his dark, compelling gaze. “What are you afraid of, sweetest?”
“N-nothing.”
Rand’s expression made it clear that she didn’t have him fooled. “You were ready to bolt. This is the second time today any mention of your family has upset you.”
She sent him a glare, this one completely genuine. “I told you that I have no family.”
Frown lines pinched the center of Braeden’s brow. “But that makes no sense. How could you not have one?”
The pain she’d kept locked away broke from its bonds and tumbled free in all its gut-wrenching, ugly glory. “Because some of us are too much of a freak show to deserve a family who won’t abandon us the first chance they get. Some of us are destined to be alone our entire lives.” Shaking, she met Rand and Braeden’s compassionate gazes. Shit, she’d said too much.
Rand tugged her toward him. Left with little choice, she slumped into his arms. Though she made a valiant effort to regain a semblance of composure, Rand and Braeden’s comforting hugs and kisses proved her undoing and she cried against Rand’s chest.
“That’s right, sweetest, let it all out.”
Apparently his words were a carte blanche invitation to her psyche, because everything came spilling out in a rush. Every last sordid, pathetic memory. “I—I don’t recall much about my real parents. They left me in a women’s restroom at a state hospital in California when I was three.” She read the disbelief and anger riding Braeden and Rand’s features and tried for a dismissive shrug. “I guess there could have been worse places to drop me than a loony bin. Regardless, that should have been a warning of what my future had in store. I probably could have saved myself a shitload of trouble if I’d been smart enough to ignore the Otherworlders in the beginning. Because once they knew I could see them, interact with them, nothing would convince them to leave me be. The worst was a goblin named Fred. That dickhead would follow me from foster home to foster home, creating all kinds of hell for me and the families that took me in. For a while, everyone thought maybe I was haunted by an evil poltergeist. Eventually I became known as the cursed child, and it became near impossible for the state to place me with a family.”
His eyes filled with a wealth of sadness, Rand brushed her hair back and kissed her forehead. The soothing gesture eased a fraction of the ache in her chest and she took a shuddering breath. “You’d think that’d be the hardest part of it, never having a place I belonged. But it wasn’t. Miraculously, the state found a couple who were willing to take me in. For two months I lived this amazing fantasy, believing I’d finally found a family who could love me despite the insanity that followed me.”
Braeden stroked her cheek. “What happened?”
“The Robertsons