Hadley explained that there had been no one to care what he was doing, leaving him free with his own choices. The Turkish man nodded in agreement, blue eyes lazily watching the knife before reaching to take it when it was offered. That life was one that he enjoyed, that any free male enjoyed; he had Wilson to look after and to look after him, but there was no pack to keep loyalty for, no mate to reprimand him for enjoying himself, no trails he needed to walk. He only had his own nightmares to drive him onward and onward until he succeeded or he died.
“Perhaps that’s best,” Levent said with a shrug when the other mentioned not wanting much. “Greed leads to blood, and twisted hearts.” He was greedy, he knew—but he thought of it as hunger instead of greed. The taste of immortality besotted him, and it led him toward sin as surely as it led him to redemption. The god would forgive, were the words that had been whispered in that fevered sickroom, the god would overlook these things, and the god would welcome him to a place of honor. That was all he needed, even if he wanted plenty of things.
The brown wolf smiled suddenly, glancing at the former slave with a bit less scrutiny than before. His gaze was more open, thoughtful. “You must think I’m horrible, at least,” he said quietly as the cat looked up from his meat.
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