She hated hearing him speak of himself like that. So many years of torment and disapproval from family and friend led to self-hatred. She had seen it in herself. It was so much easier to say he was wrong and ignore the emotions reflected in herself. Sorcha reached forward and intertwined her fingers with his. “Even wolves can be tender, loyal, and brave-hearted. I would rather run with them in the wild than paint my face and try to blend into the walls.” He squeezed her fingers. “I forget who I speak with.” “A midwife?” “A druid priestess with far more power than she admits.” He pressed his
...more
Her “found family” was in no way like his abusive one, though. And since when did she hate herself?
