Total pages in book: 254
Estimated words: 240032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1200(@200wpm)___ 960(@250wpm)___ 800(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 240032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1200(@200wpm)___ 960(@250wpm)___ 800(@300wpm)
That’s why they were here.
Fierce protectiveness rose up inside of me one more time, even stronger than before, reminding me that of all of us here, maybe Franklin might have the most power in his body, but I had this man’s magic in me.
There was going to be no bowing tonight. Not thanking the gods that this MFer was here, paying attention to me. There would be no altars or rejoicing.
Maybe I’d give him a tiny bit of credit for coming, but I didn’t owe him shit.
“I wouldn’t know if I look like her. I never met her either,” I told him in a flat, casual voice.
I still couldn’t see my DNA dad’s face even though he wasn’t that far away. The lighting just happened to hit his features in the perfect way to obscure them. His body, on the other hand, was visible.
And he was clenching his hands into fists at his sides. “It was a mutual decision that we allowed others to raise you. You are the only child we conceived together, and the only child either of us had in centuries. You might very well be the last for both of us,” the man explained, a weird inflection to his words.
“Because you’re a useless old bastard!” Franklin threw out, surprising me again.
My mouth twitched, and I squinted, trying really hard to see more than just his silhouette.
“It was not a decision we took lightly,” my biological father tried to argue as he took a few more steps, finally getting into a spot where his features were visible.
I would’ve walked right by him in public.
He was a handsome-looking man in maybe his fifties, younger than Franklin, I thought. He looked like he should have been an actor with his pale skin, classic bone structure, and deep black hair. But the most striking of all was his presence. It was some of the purest magic I had ever felt, like Duncan’s mom, my old neighbor, my uncle, and the pink waterfall.
I wondered though, at that moment, why in the world Dominic would have let him into the community when he’d reacted so poorly to me? Had he had a bracelet on before and he’d taken it off? I could wonder about it later.
There were other things to focus on at the moment. Like how his voice wasn’t a total shock to my ears. But standing there, looking at the man I had wondered over from time to time throughout my life… I didn’t feel anything for him. Not happiness. Not relief.
I didn’t feel any more complete than I had ten minutes ago.
And that acknowledgment gave me a strength of its own.
If anything, it made it real, real easy to draw on my inner brat.
“Have you always been good at making excuses, or is that something new?” I asked.
Franklin’s head swiveled toward me.
The man claiming to be my father took another step forward, jabbing his finger… at me?
That had gotten under his skin? Mr. Big Bad Death didn’t like being told he made up excuses? What a surprise.
“Do you understand who you are disrespecting? I’ve been known by many names, been feared by thousands! Civilizations erected altars in my memory! They worshipped at my feet!” He was getting wound up right in front of our eyes, taking another step forward. “I am a god! And you are my offspring. You owe me your very life.”
Henri’s body tensed beside mine.
But it was a deep, resonant howl that made me flinch.
Then it made my eyes go wider than they ever had before.
Because it wasn’t Henri who made it.
The howl, a different pitch from any other werewolf I’d ever met, pierced through the air, leaden and great, and it was coming from Duncan.
My mouth could have hit the floor from shock.
And then my boy almost had me falling to my ass, but I managed just to stumble into Henri instead.
Because there was a flame erupting from my donut’s throat as his head arched upward to the sky and he “awooed” like he had never “awooed” before.
It was as ponderous as the pines around us, as magical as the moon itself, with a depth that seemed so at odds with his size.
I’d never heard a war cry, but for whatever reason that was the first thought that came into my head when I heard it.
And it was so freaking beautiful.
“Holy magical shhhhh….” I whispered, in pure amazement.
A hand landed on my shoulder, and I heard Henri’s whoosh of an exhale at my ear.
As the howl came to an end, my puppy posed there standing, looking so dang majestic, so ethereal, it choked me up.
He was straight out of a millennia-old tale in that moment.
I squeaked.
“Where did that come from, Donut?” I cried before dropping to my knees and stroking from his head down his spine. I forgot all about where we were and who was in front of us and everything that was happening and everything that was going to happen. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard!” No offense to Henri.