by West, Tara
Bunica’s eyes lit up when Rone handed Hrod to her. She deftly balanced the baby on her hip, laughing when he reached for her silver braid.
Amara watched with trepidation as Drasko and Rone confronted her fathers. She looked around for Hakon, but he was missing. He was probably upstairs getting dressed, which was a good thing. Maybe Drasko and Rone wouldn’t start a fight without Hakon to back them. Katarina’s eyes were wide with fear while she clung to Amara’s birth father’s arm. When Marius pushed Katarina behind him in a protective gesture, an overwhelming feeling of betrayal stabbed Amara’s gut.
Tor and Amara’s Bunic Nicolae stood between the rival wolves, urging everyone to remain civil. Her heart fell. This wasn’t how she’d expected her reunion with her fathers to go.
Bunica tugged on Amara’s arm. “Come inside, pui de lup,” she whispered. “Nicolae and Tor will not let them fight.”
She followed her bunica on numb legs, feeling as if the breath had been sucked from her lungs. Why had they brought her?
Once they were alone in the front hall, Bunica kissed the top of Hrod’s head while he sucked on his fist, then leveled Amara with a cross between a scowl and a look of pity. “I almost didn’t come when I found out your fathers were bringing that cătea, but I didn’t want you to face her without me.” Bunica’s face pinched as if she’d sucked on a sour lemon. “She will cause problems, and I’ll not leave you alone to break up the fights between your mates and fathers.”
After that confrontation between her fathers and mates, after one of the many times Katarina had insulted Amara, it was sure to happen again. Her fathers might be fooled by the bitch, but Amara wasn’t. She’d start trouble soon enough. It was in the woman’s nature to be jealous and spiteful.
“Why did they bring her?” She was unable to keep the hurt from her voice.
Bunica rolled her eyes. “She’s manipulated them again.”
“What do you mean?” Though she wanted her fathers to be happy, she feared that spoiled bitch would cause them more heartache.
Bunica’s features screwed up even tighter. “She claims to be with child.”
Amara flinched. “Oh? I thought they were done having children.”
“Do not fear, pui de lup.” She squeezed Amara’s arm, flashing a grandmotherly smile. “Nobody will replace you.”
“I’m not worried about that.” She placed a hand on her constricting chest. “I’m just a little shocked.” And disgusted, she wanted to add. After everything Katarina had done to her mates, to her, and they still shared her bed?
“She manipulated poor Marius into sleeping with her,” Bunica answered, as if reading Amara’s mind. She clucked her tongue. “Ancients curse his stupid, soft heart. This is the third time she’s pretended to carry his girl child.”
Wow. Her fathers were looking more stupid by the moment. “And you think she’s faking again?”
Bunica bared her teeth, her eyes turning from blue to blinding white. “Da, the lying curva.”
Hrod giggled and gaped at Bunica’s wolf eyes. She pretended to devour his chubby fist, causing a new wave of laughter.
The door creaked open, and Amara’s alpha father, Boris, stuck his head inside. “Fiică.” The look of pity he shot her was almost more than she could bear.
She straightened her shoulders and did her best to plaster on an impassive expression. She would not let him see how badly she was hurting. “Father,” she said through a constricted throat, unable to say more.
“Mamă,” Boris said to Bunica. “I wish to speak with our daughter alone.”
Bunica heaved a dramatic sigh. “Very well. I will be in the kitchen if you need me.” She walked away, bouncing Hrod on her hip.
She wanted to tell her bunica to help herself to the refreshments Rone had laid on the kitchen bar, but her throat suddenly felt dryer than a dustbowl.
Boris cleared his throat. “Amara, I’m sorry we didn’t tell you about Katarina.” He cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “It wasn’t our intention to hurt you. She waited until the last minute to tell us she was carrying a child.”
She swallowed what felt like a lump of granite, at a loss for what to say. “I see.”
He squeezed her shoulders, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “If you want us to leave, I understand.”
Hot tears flooded her eyes. Angry and upset by her father, she shrugged off his grip. “So is that the choice I get, my fathers and Katarina or nothing?”
“It’s not how I wanted things, believe me, but if she truly is with child, it would be careless to leave her alone. I know you must think us nebun.”
Amara thought she remembered nebun meant crazy in Romanian. At the moment, she thought a lot of things about her dads, but crazy was lower on the list, somewhere after stupid and inconsiderate. She forced a smile, even though she was far from happy. “It doesn’t matter what I think. I want you to be happy.”
“If she bears us a daughter, please know we won’t love you any less.”
Any less than what, she thought? Because the standard was obviously not set very high. She wondered if they’d considered her feelings at all before bringing Katarina to her home. She stepped back. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
He shot her a grin that reminded Amara of a kid pleading to be freed from time-out. “Perhaps this child will help heal the rift between us.”
She hugged herself, stepping back from her father. “For your sakes, I hope so.”
He caressed her cheek with calloused knuckles. “What did we do to deserve such a sweet daughter?”
He was trying to pacify her with praise. She didn’t know if she should be grateful or insulted. “I just hope Katarina deserves you,” she answered tersely.
“She’s been much nicer lately.” His enthusiasm sounded forced. Was he lying to her or himself?
“That’s good,” she said halfheartedly. She wasn’t fooled. A woman didn’t just stop being a raging, maniacal bitch without an ulterior motive. Katarina’s parents didn’t want her, and she had nowhere else to go, so of course she’d play nice for her mates—maybe even fake a pregnancy.
Boris splayed his hands in a gesture of surrender. “She wants to apologize for the way she’s treated you.”
“It’s too late for apologies!” Hakon boomed.
He was on the stairway, clutching the banister. His hair and skin glistened with moisture, the raised scar across his brow standing out against his tanned skin. She beamed at her alpha. He’d showed up just in time, because there was no way she wanted Katarina anywhere near her.
Hakon approached Boris like a lion about to launch at his prey. “Have you forgotten that woman tried to attack your pregnant daughter?”
Boris’s face fell. “No, I haven’t.”
Hakon put his arm around Amara. “That woman is not welcome in our home or anywhere near Amara.”
Boris’s face turned as red as an overripe apple. “She has seen the error of her ways, and she wants to make amends.”
“And you were fool enough to believe her?” Hakon snickered. “For the last time, she is not welcome in our home.”
Boris gave Amara an apologetic frown. “Then we must return to Romania.”
She turned away, not wanting him to see her eyes water. How could they do this to her?
The door cracked open, and Tor poked his head inside. “Katarina can stay with us.”
“Father.” Hakon sighed. “I don’t wish to impose on you.”
Tor came in, shutting the door behind him. Amara cringed when Drasko’s angry cursing carried inside the house.
Tor seemed to be oblivious to the argument outside. “She will be our daughter’s mother-in-law one day. We should get to know her.” His grin looked painful, as if it had been plastered to his face.
“Thank you for your generous offer,” Boris said with a bow. “I will have Jovan accompany her, if you don’t mind making accommodations for one more.”
A long string of Romanian curs
e words echoed from the kitchen, followed by Bunica’s distinctive growl. “Send the Vrăjitoare home!”
“Of course not.” Tor acted as if he hadn’t heard Bunica. “Besides, the reservation is on lockdown for a few more days. It will be difficult leaving now.”
“Damn. I forgot about that.” Boris shook his head, looking like a cornered animal. Wow. Would it be so awful to spend time with Amara and her mates?
As quickly as he’d come in, Tor rushed right back out, acting as if hell’s fire was lapping at his heels.
“I hope you allow Katarina the opportunity to apologize to our daughter while she’s here.” Boris gave Hakon a long look.
Hakon’s expression was harder than iron, then he relented, answering with an undecipherable grumble.
She had so been looking forward to seeing her fathers. Now she would be counting the days until they left.
DINNER WAS AWKWARD, to say the least. Amara, Bunic Nicolae, and Bunica were the only ones who conversed. Her mates said not a word as they scowled at her three fathers—Boris, Geri, and Marius—at the other end of the table.
Hrod finally broke the tension with an explosion in his diaper. When Bunica insisted on taking him upstairs to change him, the void they left behind made dinner conversation even more uncomfortable.
“Tor told us about the lone wolf on the drive over,” Nicolae said to Hakon. “How long do you think this lockdown will last?”
“Luc should be flying in tonight,” Hakon said, ripping a dinner roll in half. “He’ll find her within a day.” He popped the roll in his mouth and winked at Amara. “After that, he gets to spend a few weeks with us. I know Amara misses him.”
“I do,” she said, aching with longing for him.
“They will need to spend time alone together,” Hakon continued. “He’s been gone for over a month.”
She tensed. She knew where Hakon was going with this. She scowled at her alpha. Please don’t start.
He fixed her with a steely glare. I didn’t start anything, Amara. I’m finishing. I want that bitch off my reservation.
She couldn’t argue with that. She wanted Katarina gone, too.
Her fathers shared dark looks and then Boris cleared his throat. “In other words, you want us to go when he gets here.”
“Do as you will,” Drasko answered with a sneer, “so long as your mate doesn’t come near Amara.”
Amara looked at her plate, fighting back tears.
“Amara, are you okay?” Rone whispered, rubbing her back.
No, she answered, hanging her head. That one simple touch was enough to send her over the edge. She sucked in a sob and dabbed her eyes with a napkin.
Bunic Nicolae pounded the table. “See what your bickering has done?”
“It’s okay,” she reassured everyone, wiping away her tears and silently cursing her pregnancy hormones. “I’ll be okay.”
Drasko reached for her across the table. Amara, I’m sorry.
“It’s fine!” she retorted, not meaning to sound so harsh. She looked over at her fathers, who gaped at her but said nothing. If anyone should’ve been sorry, it was them. Something inside her snapped, and she grabbed the side of the table, digging her nails into the wood. “Hakon is right. I will want some alone time with Luc. You should leave when he gets here.” She stood and smiled at Bunic Nicolae. “But I hope you and Bunica stay.”
She pretended not to notice the hurt in their eyes. Their decision to bring Katarina gave her more pain than she could ever give them. She kicked the chair out from behind her. “I’m going to see if Bunica needs help with Hrod.”
Drasko jumped to his feet, too, sniffing the air. “Someone’s here.”
Nicolae stood, too. “She smells human.”
Amara turned to the front door, breathing in a familiar scent with a smile. “It’s Eilea.” When the men blinked at her, she added. “Dr. Johnson.”
Hakon stood and held a hand out to Amara. “I never got to thank her properly. Let’s invite her in.”
When Hakon threw open the door, the doctor was getting out of her uncle’s truck.
“Welcome, Eilea.” She held out her arms.
She was shocked when the doctor raced up the stairs, nearly tripping as she launched toward Amara.
“You have to save him! He’s the only family I have left.” She latched onto Amara with wild, frightened eyes, tugging her toward the truck.
“Hold on.” She dug her heels in, shaking off Eilea’s grip. “Agent Johnson?”
Eilea nodded. “His lungs collapsed, and he’s in a coma with stage-four lung cancer.”
“Great Ancients!” She looked at Hakon with pleading eyes. “I have to help him.”
He fished his phone out. “I’ll call my father and see if he can get us off the reservation.”
They jumped at the sound of three low-pitched howls from inside.
Her fathers’ wild gazes were locked on Eilea.
“What in Ancients’ name is the meaning of this?” Hakon demanded.
Boris’s eyes lost focus, as if he was in a trance. “It’s her scent.”
Amara said, “Father, you’re not making any sense.”
When they all howled again, Eilea clutched Amara’s wrist tightly. “What the fuck is wrong with them?”
Geri’s nostrils flared. Raising a shaky hand, he pointed at Eilea. “She’s our mate.”
Chapter Eleven
Luc was relieved when they finally landed at Fairbanks. After he and his team got off the plane, he anxiously searched the tarmac for Johnson. The agent hadn’t met with him after their debriefing, which was unusual, but Luc didn’t make too much of it. There was a lone wolf on the loose. Johnson was probably needed for damage control.
Focused on the activity inside the hangar, Luc drowned out the chatter behind him. His fellow trackers were speculating about the lone wolf’s origins and her fated mates. A group of agents and armed soldiers were eyeing him from the other end of the hangar. None of them looked familiar, but judging by their wary expressions, they certainly knew him. Luc singled out the oldest of the group, a bald man probably in his fifties and the one who had the look of a dominant. He wasn’t going to wait around for Johnson when he had work to do. The sooner he completed his mission, the sooner he could return to Amara.
The bald agent stepped forward, holding up a hand as if he had superhuman strength and was trying to stop a bus. “Do not come closer, Sgt. Thunderfoot.”
Luc stopped. Something wasn’t right. “Who the hell are you?”
“Agent James Richter.”
“Where’s Johnson?” Luc demanded.
The agent had a slight tic in his jaw. “He can’t be here. I’m running this operation.”
The wheels grinding in Luc’s brain came to a violent halt. “What happened to Johnson?”
“He’s has been medically retired,” Richter answered dispassionately.
This couldn’t be happening. Johnson had been with his tribe for over thirty years. He would’ve alerted Luc before retiring and leaving him with this douchebag. Luc gritted his teeth. “Where is he?”
Richter’s eyes were that of a venomous snake preparing to strike. “That’s not pertinent to this mission.”
“Tell me where the fuck he is.” His voice rose, along with his ire.
Richter nodded to the armed military guards beside him. “Stand down, Thunderfoot, or I promise you’ll regret it.”
His wolf clawing to break free, Luc growled at the guards when they fingered stun guns. They drew their weapons, and Luc was suddenly on the ground, a crippling jolt of electricity surging through him. He bit down so hard on his tongue that blood pooled in his mouth. Panting heavily after the guards withdrew, he was vaguely aware of Richter snapping a leather bracelet with metal clasps on his wrist. In an instant, Luc’s wolf was silenced; the bracelet contained amethyst.
Luc’s team howled, and that was followed by several deafening yelps when guards armed with stun guns rushed past Luc’s supine body.
Someone dragged him to the edge of the hangar and propped him up against a piece of equipment. His wildly pounding heart sounded as if a torrent of rushing water was filling his brain. He gaped at Richter and then at his team, who were curled up on the floor with bracelets on their wrists.
This couldn’t be happening. For eighty years his tribe had coexisted peacefully with the feds. Why would they turn on them now? Had that one lone wolf caused this rift between their species?
Luc scowled at Richter, who hovered over him.
“You ready to shut your muzzle and listen?” the agent demanded, as if he was speaking to an errant child and not the head of an elite Army squadron.
Spitting a wad of blood on the ground, Luc slowly nodded. Fighting back at this point would be useless.
“Good boy.” Richter addressed Luc the way Amara talked to her little dogs. “I was briefed only yesterday on this werewolf clan of yours. I’m still adjusting, so I’d appreciate your patience.”
Luc spit up more blood and then lifted his head. “Shifters, not werewolves,” he rasped.
“I don’t have time to get hung up on nuances, boy,” the agent bellowed. “We have a mission to complete.”
Anger infused his skull as Luc spoke from between clenched teeth. “I’m not a goddamn boy.”
Richter stepped back again, nodding to his guards. Luc braced himself before being hit with an even stronger current of electricity. His mind couldn’t think to reason as the agonizing current swept through him.
Richter waved a hand, and the guards released him from his electrified prison.
He groaned, curling into a ball while blood and drool pooled on the floor around his mouth.
Richter rolled Luc over with his foot, then firmly placed a polished black shoe on Luc’s chest. “Now maybe you’ll listen.” Malice gleamed in his beady eyes. “From here on out, you answer to me. You will do what I say, when I say it, and you will not give me any lip, understood?”
Luc struggled to speak around a swollen tongue. “Yef, sir.” He despised himself for submitting to this madman, but what choice did he have? He didn’t want Richter to punish Luc’s squadron and the rest of his tribe. He wouldn’t put it past the snake to let his ego destroy the past eighty years of goodwill between them and the Amaroki.