Fierce Survivor (Sierra Pride Book 7) by Liza Street

Author:Liza Street [Street, Liza]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-11-02T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

“Are your brothers this protective of Justine, too, or is it only you?” Tyler asked. He was distracted by her nearness, distracted by her long legs stretching out. She was so close he could reach across the center console and touch the hole ripped in the knee of her jeans.

“I guess it’s both of us, although Justine was never afraid of giving them a big ‘fuck you.’” Cora laughed. “I was always the agreeable one. She once told me she hated it that I behaved and everyone fell in love with me. But I always thought she had more fun. Anyway, Maverick got a lot of their protective instincts, too, since he’s the youngest. Then Starla was…taken.”

“Tell me about Starla,” he said.

She stared straight ahead, at the road rushing before them. She was quiet for so long that he wondered if she’d even respond.

“It’s okay,” he started to say.

“No, no. I want to talk. Just gathering my thoughts.” She took a deep breath. “We thought she was murdered in our woods, but we couldn’t find a body, couldn’t figure out how. Turns out, Al Gunser, and I guess this Val person, were running a kidnapping and adoption thing. Justine told me that Gunser was hypnotizing kids to make them think their families were dead.”

“That sounds…insane,” Tyler said.

“I know. But with shifter kids, I guess there’s a pretty high demand? I don’t know. Anyway, after Starla was taken, the family dynamic really changed. We got closer, and our parents were more watchful.”

“What happened to your parents?” he asked. “I remember something about a car accident.”

“We’re all about cheerful conversations today, aren’t we?”

“Sorry,” he said in a rush. “We don’t have to—”

She shook her head. “It’s okay. The car accident is the thing we tell everyone about how they died, but it was actually a pride war.”

Tyler coughed, surprised. “With who?”

“It wasn’t our war. They’d gone to help Quentin’s pride up in Oregon, and they wanted their involvement kept quiet.”

Tyler vaguely remembered hearing about the Oregon war. It had been over territory, as these things usually were. Tyler had been about sixteen. “So you were only eight when they died?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.” Now that they’d kissed, he hoped a little contact would be comforting instead of alarming, so he reached over and took her hand. She interlaced her fingers with his, and he felt a surge of lightness move through him. She felt so right. “My mom died when I was four,” he said. “A poacher saw her in her lion form and shot her.”

“That’s…that’s awful.” Cora’s eyes shone with sympathy.

“I barely remember her. She used to sing to me, I remember that, but I don’t remember any of the songs.” He shrugged. “I miss her every day, though.”

Cora picked up his hand and kissed it. “I remember my mother’s stories. She didn’t sing, but she told stories all the time.”

Both of them had experienced deep sorrow. He’d spent so much time feeling weak about not being able to protect her from Bryan that he’d forgotten that he was strong.

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