Tamara
North went completely still. For a moment, I thought he was going to stop me, or tell me that his family history was none of my business and to order me back to silence.
Instead, he let out a long breath and turned to look into my eyes.
"What do you want to know?" he asked quietly, his voice without its usual edginess.
I looked over at him, meeting his dark gaze. "Everything or anything," I answered softly.
He turned his eyes back toward the cold stone fireplace. "My parents were not kind people," he began, his tone flat. "They did not believe in gentle words or soft touches and showing care was a weakness in their eyes.
But they were strong together, and they always stayed together for some reason I never understood. I always believed my father never loved my mother but the
