by Kyle, Celia
This stunned her so savagely she stopped abruptly and stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. His grey eyes were shaded, almost guarded. And not because his heart was on the line. The man didn’t have one, so he obviously had other motives. She snorted, rolled her eyes and got back to walking.
“Uh huh, sure. You almost had me there for a second.”
He hurried to catch up again. “It’s true. Your mother misses you too.”
This time she laughed outright. “Oh, please. Mother barely even knows I exist. I want you to guess the last time I heard from her. Go ahead, guess.”
They trudged along for a moment before he guessed, “Your birthday?”
Persia didn’t bother trying to stop her bitter laughter. “Well, technically you’re right, but I’ll give you a bonus question. Which birthday?”
“Uh…”
“My twenty-fifth, Daddy. Three years ago.” She sighed heavily. “Listen, I don’t hold it against her. You can correct me if I’m wrong, but she never wanted a kid in the first place. Trust me. She doesn’t miss me.”
“Now, princess—”
“Give it up already. It’s not like either of you really had a hand in raising me. That was left to the plethora of nannies that came and went, even when Mom wasn’t off being slathered in suntan lotion by some cute cabaña boy in a foreign land.”
The not-so-subtle accusation of her mother’s probable infidelity didn’t even make her father flinch. “Well, I still miss you.”
“Oh, please. You don’t even know me.”
It was her father’s turn to snort. “I know you better than you think. You’re my daughter, my blood.”
“Sadly.”
Tension buzzed between them as they trudged along. Persia didn’t hate her father. She hated what he did, which probably meant she should hate him, but he was still her father. They’d had poignant moments and a handful of happy memories together. Still, she knew they’d never have a healthy relationship.
“You’re too smart for your own good,” Dick said softly. “You think you’re always right and know better than everyone else. You’re stubborn as a mule. You’re a romantic at heart, even though you probably think you’re a stoic. But worst of all, you truly believe good will always triumph over evil.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“It’s… misguided, and you know it. You’re smart enough to know the world isn’t black and white, good and bad. That’s all just a construct devised to keep the proletariat under control. There are only varying shades of grey, my dear.”
Persia’s mind instantly flashed on a certain book she and all her girlfriends had read back in college. It made her think of sex, which made her think about Warren’s perfect, muscular body. Which led to remembering how gently he’d caressed her, the sweetness of his kiss, the heat of his desire. None of which should have crossed her mind in the presence of her father.
Still, his assessment of her was pretty spot on, not that she’d ever admit that to him. The one thing that stuck in her craw was his insistence she was a romantic. Of course, he’d qualified it by saying she wouldn’t think so, and that was also true. But as a child, one of her favorite pastimes had been having imaginary weddings to teen heart throbs in her back yard. Every Backstreet Boy had been immortalized in poster form on her walls, sending her off to sleep with dreams of kissing each and every one of them. When various boyfriends brought her flowers and tried wooing her, she always enjoyed it immensely, even if the boy in question was rather meh. No doubt about it, she loved being romanced. Too bad a certain sexy redneck didn’t have a romantic bone in his body.
But did romance really matter? Sure, it was nice and fun, but love was love, regardless of all the frills. She didn’t need mushy poetry, chocolates and flowers, or grand gestures. What Persia had always wanted was something she’d never received from her father—honesty. That mattered more than all the rest combined. And though it had taken him a while to reveal his true nature—understandably—Warren had told her the truth about everything.
Her heart lurched in her chest, causing her to stumble, though she played it off like she’d tripped over a root. Her own truth was that she hadn’t fully realized she wasn’t just hot for the sexy carpenter. A part of her that had been buried so deeply she hadn’t even known it existed surged with affection for him. When she recalled climbing aboard the van earlier, her breath hitched in her chest recalling the pain she’d felt leaving him in the dust like that. And not just because of the pain he most certainly felt after baring his soul to her, but because she hurt leaving him. They’d only been apart an hour or so and yet she longed to have him nearby. Not just for sex, but her soul ached for him.
Oh shit, I’m in love!
The thought startled her back into the present. Her father was still droning on about how much she meant to him, blah blah blah, as they neared the clearing where she’d met with Warren’s wolf so many times.
“Enough, Daddy. Just stop already.”
“Okay…” he conceded, though he clearly didn’t want to.
She stopped just before they were about to break into the spot that felt so sacred to her. Sharing it with her father when he wanted to destroy it seemed wrong. Unless she could change his mind.
“Please leave Wolf Woods alone,” she pleaded, opening herself up to him so he could get a tiny inkling of how important it all was to her. “Please.”
“Now, princess—”
“Seriously, the chicken ranch is so much better for everyone. It’s a classic win-win-win, and you know it.”
Dick sniffed and wiped dirt off the toe of his very expensive loafer. “I can’t deny it’s a solid proposal, but I’m afraid it’s too little, too late, Persia. I’ve already poured way too much into this property.”
“In the form of bribes, perchance?”
He didn’t even have the grace to blush. He simply let his smirk answer the question.
“Do you want me to get down on my knees and beg, Daddy? Because I will.” She proved her point and dropped to the spongy forest floor, casting a pleading gaze up at him. “Please, if not for the locals, then for me. This isn’t just one of my causes, Daddy. It’s become so much more. It’s a mission of love.”
“Love?” he asked, his brow furrowing as if the concept was alien to him.
“I…” She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’ve grown close to one of the men from the, uh, Soren village. These woods mean so much to them, which makes this very personal to me.”
Dick’s face grew red and then darkened to an apoplectic purple. “Y-you…” he stammered, unable to find words for whatever was bothering him. “You’re in love with one of those filthy, fucking mutants?”
It took several moments for her father’s words to sink in. When they did, Persia stumbled to her feet awkwardly and edged away from him. The horrific realization that her father knew what Warren and his people actually were rocked her to the core.
“You know?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Dick didn’t bother denying it. Instead, he gave her a condescending glare, which spoke volumes. “Of course. What kind of businessman would I be if I didn’t learn every single detail about my enemies?”
The full gravity of this information nearly made her heave. Swallowing hard, she asked a question even she, a die-hard Dick McNish hater, never thought she’d ask.
“So, you knew the wolves your hired guns have been hunting down aren’t just animals?” Her hands flew to her mouth, wanting to take back the words as soon as they were spoken, but once they were out there, she recognized the truth in them. “Jesus, Daddy! You’re killing people!”
“They’re not people, Persia. They’re mutants. Abominations that must be exterminated at all costs.”
“No, they’re not. They’re just like you and me. They just have an unusual talent. They’re good and noble and just want to live their lives without some fucking murderer shooting at them!”
Dick’s face grew even more
purple. “I can’t believe you’re defending them. I’m your damn father, Persia. Your blood!”
“Don’t remind me,” she spat back, finally and truly finished with the man who’d donated his genetic material once upon a time. “I’d rather spend the rest of my life as one of them than spend another minute in your toxic orbit!”
She turned to head back to her van, but Dick snatched at her arm, pulling her against him in a tight grip. His breath smelled of stale coffee and hate.
“My daughter will become one of those mutants over my dead body,” he seethed.
Just as he started to drag her back the way they came, the bushes and small trees blocking her view of the meadow rustled frantically, and then a large, sandy-colored wolf bounded out of them. Dick shoved Persia toward the wolf in an effort to save himself, but Warren’s wolf darted around her to position himself between her and her father. Paws splayed, head held low, lips pulled back in a terrifying, toothy snarl, he waited for Dick’s next move.
The instinct to protect himself became secondary once he saw the wolf protecting Persia, his property. “Get away from my daughter, you freak!”
The wolf advanced a step, his hackles raised all the way along his spine. The low, rumbling growl coming from him grew into a sharp snap of his powerful jaws. Dick blinked in surprise, but when the wolf stayed put, he appeared to gain confidence, like maybe the beast had no plans to attack him at all.
“Time to finish this once and for all.” Dick sneered as he reached into his suit pocket and whipped out a tiny pistol.
Persia panicked. She’d spent her life wandering around, fighting her father for what she thought was right, but never putting down roots. She still had trouble wrapping her head around this shifter business, but Warren was worth the effort. So were the people in the Soren village… pack… whatever it was called. No way was she going to stand back and watch her father take that chance from her.
“No!” she screamed, grabbing fistfuls of Warren’s fur and trying to pull him behind her, but he was far too strong. He turned his massive head to look into her eyes, a sorrow that made her bones ache emanating from them, and then he bumped her with his hindquarters and sent her sprawling onto her ass.
“Dammit, stand still, you monster!” Dick shouted, trying to steady his sights on the wolf and not his daughter, though she remained dangerously close.
Just as he squeezed the trigger, a furry, black blur leapt out of the bushes, its huge body blocking Warren’s wolf. A sharp yelp echoed through the canopy and a spray of blood splattered on Persia’s face as the sound of the black beast crashing to the ground broke her heart. Whoever that wolf was, he’d just sacrificed himself to save Warren. That made him a hero in her book.
As Dick tried to make sense of the chaos, Warren took the chance to lunge forward and clamp down on the man’s wrist. Dick tried to wrest free. Then he tried pulling the trigger again, but the pressure and pain proved to be too much. The gun thumped to the soft ground, his blood painting it crimson. Persia felt nothing but relief at her father’s cries of pain as he stumbled away, toward the relative safety of his fancy car. Not that she wanted to him to suffer… okay, maybe she wanted him to suffer a little.
Once Dick was far enough away to no longer be a threat, Warren shifted back into his human form. This time the transformation didn’t freak Persia out as much as it had before. It was quite fascinating and sort of beautiful. Not to mention the fact he came out of his wolf form buck naked. But the moment his human eyes met hers, she realized other things were vastly more important at that moment. Such as the bleeding wolf lying in the dirt and leaves, the one who’d taken a bullet for her man.
“Levi.” Warren’s voice was tight.
They reached the wolf at the same time, Persia stroking his furry face as he whimpered in pain. “How bad is it?” she asked as Warren probed the wound in the wolf’s shoulder.
He smiled reassuringly down at the wolf. “Levi, don’t shift, okay? You need to conserve your strength. Doesn’t look life-threatening to me, but we really need to get him to Trina.”
Persia looked the massive wolf up and down. “How?”
“My truck’s parked next to your van. I’ll take his head. You take his tail.” He crouched low to get a good grip on his friend.
Persia worked really, really hard not to laugh at the sight of a naked man nearly tea-bagging a buddy. It was just shock and hysteria working together to release some of the pent-up tension inside her, but even she knew how inappropriate the thought was. Warren watched her carefully, so to explain her obvious amusement, she pointed at the wolf’s fluffy tail.
“Tails. Literally.”
Ten minutes later, Persia’s arms shook with strain as they gently laid the wolf on the ground between the vehicles. Her father’s BMW was long gone, thank god.
“Are you sure he’s going to be okay?” she panted heavily.
Warren checked the wound again, drawing a growl from Levi. “Yeah, bleeding’s already stopped and you can see he’s feeling pretty frisky.”
“Then I really should go file that injunction. My dad’s probably already scheming to crush us in some new way. Coward.”
Worry flashed in Warren’s eyes, and she quickly added, “But I’ll head to Trina’s right after. I swear. I’ll be back.”
He stepped closer, sweat dripping down his chest and weaving its way around his abs. “Are you sure?”
Locking her gaze on him, she reached for his hand. “Of course I’m sure.”
Levi barked at them, reminding them he was lying there injured. They both jumped a little, embarrassed that they’d forgotten about him for a second.
“You should take my truck, it’ll be faster. Besides, I think a naked man driving around with a bloody wolf in the bed of his truck might draw some attention. Keys are under the floor mat.”
Persia nodded and quickly unlocked her van, grabbed her folder and tossed him the keys. Together they loaded Levi into her van, and then she gave his cheek a quick peck before heading to his truck, ready to show her father what she was really made of.
Chapter Nineteen
Persia sang at the top of her lungs and totally off-key as she pulled Warren’s truck onto pack lands near the end of the day. Strange not to think of it as an old homesteader’s village because that was one hell of a cover, but stranger still, thinking in terms of a pack came naturally. It all seemed to fit so seamlessly.
All the more reason to celebrate the judge’s order granting a temporary injunction against her dad. She’d broken every speed limit between the courthouse and pack lands so she could deliver the news. With demolition halted, it was only a matter of time before a different judge, one higher up the ladder, granted a permanent injunction. And it was all thanks to Warren and a particularly rare beetle.
Her dad would be livid when he found out, but she gave zero fucks about that. It was the least he deserved after all the misery he’d created. Right now, she and the pack needed something to celebrate.
As she parked in the gravel area outside the pack house, she spotted something that looked vaguely like Betty parked a little way behind the house, tucked up against the tree line. Climbing from the truck, she squinted, as if that might make her vision better.
“What the hell?”
As she drew closer, details came into focus and she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. It was her Westfalia, all right, covered roof-to-tires in a vast array of flowers. Ceramic pots weighed down the roof. Vibrant blooms sprouted out triumphantly all over the bumper and tires. Bundles of loose wildflowers had been tied to every inch of space, and where they weren’t, cornstalks leaned against any open spots. The tableau of flora made her home look like a rolling druid’s shrine, and the twinkle lights wrapped around the roof several times gave the entire display an ethereal glow in the dusky twilight.
Unbelievable! Someone—as if she didn’t know who—had gone to all this trouble and made this huge romantic gesture, just for her. Her throat tightened and
she blinked away tears as she peered through a bare space on a window. No Warren, but the entire interior had also received the flowery treatment, with beautiful wildflower bouquets and rose petals scattered on the bed, which she noticed had been made up. A blush rose in her cheeks, not just from embarrassment, but also excitement over what the night would hold.
Music started playing behind her, an acoustic version of her very most favorite song in the world, Endless Love. Spinning around, she scanned the area, but she didn’t see anything out of place—certainly no electronics that could be playing the music, not even an old-school boombox. Some shrubbery at the edge of the tree line rustled, and the moment Warren stepped out, Persia knew her heart belonged to him.
His rough hands strummed the simple chords on an old acoustic guitar slung over his shoulder as he closed the distance between. Then he opened his mouth and started singing.
“My love…”
Bold, clear, beautifully in tune. Tears sprang to her eyes and she didn’t even care. She just wanted more. For a man who claimed to not be romantic, he certainly was proving himself wrong.
Persia had never in her life been serenaded. And as he strolled closer, she struggled to maintain her composure. Tears were one thing, but big, gut-wrenching, snot-flinging sobs might be the wrong message to send. When Warren shrugged in the most self-conscious way, she barked an incredulous laugh. He was nailing it, yet he still thought he sucked.
People filed out of the back door of the pack house to watch and listen. She barely noticed them. Her entire focus was on Warren. By the time he hit the second verse, he stood no more than a few feet away from her, so she joined in.
“Two hearts…”
Grinning like a blubbering madwoman, she stepped even closer and pretended her atonal voice sounded half as good as Warren’s. She gave no shits. This was their song now. Every word spoke to how she felt about him, and she knew in her heart it did for him too. From that day on, she’d sing it as badly and as loudly as she could, every time she heard it.
By the time their duet ended, they both were singing loud and proud, claiming their endless love for one another. Cheers and whoops sounded from the pack house, followed by raucous applause—even the sound of a small dog barking—but Warren didn’t so much glance in that direction.