by Elle Boon
The quiet cul-de-sac he pulled in surprised him. The houses looked more like they belonged in upstate New York with the Cape Cod look and expansive lawns. He looked around, expecting to see some rent-a-cop walking around asking for his identification. Sheila’s home was the last house at the back of the newer edition. The one-story sprawling home looked to cost more than he made in, well, if he were only a mechanic, it would cost more than he’d make in a lifetime. Luckily, he was more than a grease monkey like Sarah’s mother had called him. The circular drive didn’t have any other vehicles parked outside, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any in the three-car attached garage. He’d never thought to ask Sheila if she was married. She had a child the same age as his daughter. Why hadn’t Sarah contacted him? The thought that he was at Sarah and her husband Dan’s home had his jaw locking in place, then he shook his head. No, Sheila wouldn’t have him come to their home. More than likely, Sarah had no clue he was there. “Man up, Arynn, and get your ass outta your rig,” he told himself then put action to words.
He got out, inhaling deeply, taking in the scents around him. If he dropped his mental guards, he could be assailed by a shitton of others feelings, yet the urge to do so in order to get the lay of those around him almost had him taking the risk. Instead, he hit the key fob and walked around the front of his vehicle.
A deep bark followed by a growl alerted him to the presence of a dog in the backyard. He tilted his head to the side and followed the sidewalk around, his nose telling him that was where his girl was. Another loud bark and even more growling had him moving faster. The animal sounded huge and mean. What the hell kind of beast was Sheila allowing near his baby girl?
Not many times could he say he’d frozen, but at the sight of a breed of dog, he was sure the Vikings had bred for killing their enemies, jumping toward a blonde girl who couldn’t be more than eleven or twelve, it’s massive head twice the size of hers, Arynn launched himself over the six foot privacy fence. The big beast turned his head as Arynn landed with a thud on booted feet. The growl he emanated would’ve frightened most men, but he wasn’t most men. Hell, his growl was worse than the animal now in attack formation.
“Go inside,” Arynn ordered the frightened girl. “It’s okay, he won’t hurt you.”
A snort came from a few feet away. “Of course, he won’t hurt us. Now you, I think he’s going to eat for dinner, or a snack, since he just ate. You better get ready to run, mister.”
Arynn took his eyes off the dog to stare at the child he knew was his. The moisture in his mouth dried as his heart beat triple time. “Rebel,” he whispered. Just before the animal could do what Arynn presumed he was trained to do, he turned and growled at the big dog. “Down, boy. Sit,” he ordered, snapping his fingers, showing who was alpha.
The dog pulled up, his feet working to do as he was told, a whine escaping him.
“What did you do to Gizzy?” Rebel asked rushing forward, falling to her knees, and wrapping her arms around that massive head.
“Gizzy? You call that thing Gizzy? Girl, that thing’s a monster.” He nearly choked on his words as he thought of the giant wolf he turned into, but dammit, his daughter was hugging the drooling pup.
“Um, sorry. I didn’t hear you pull up, Mr. Dunn.”
Arynn turned, bracing himself for his first view of Sheila. “What the hell? Sarah?”
The woman sighed and shook her blonde head, the silky length much shorter than Sarah’s had been when he’d been with her. “I’m Sheila, Sarah’s twin sister. Please come inside, so we can talk. Girls, have you picked up all the lawnmines?”
“Lawnmines?” he asked. What kind of house was this?
A deep husky laugh had his body responding in a wholly inappropriate way, especially with two young girls looking on. “The big beast there, not quite aptly named Gizmo, gifts us with piles of poo that are like landmines to unsuspecting walkers out back. The girls’ job is to take care of him, which includes cleaning up said lawnmines.” She made air quotes then brought her hand back up to her forehead as if blocking the sun.
“Aw, mom, we cleaned up most, but there’s a couple warm ones,” Rebel cried.
He whipped his head toward his daughter, twisting to look back at the woman who said she wasn’t Sarah. Something was off. He sniffed the air, thinking he’d recognize the other woman’s scent from their one time together. His wolf raked at him, wanting to come out and—shit, Arynn had to seize control of his powers. Being the Omega meant he was more in touch with his wolf, giving his other half the ability to help when his pack needed to release pain, both mental and physical. Now, it took monumental effort to force the wall back up and face the woman who clearly wasn’t Sarah, but her twin. Shit!
“Girls,” Sheila said in a tone that had both females moving toward shovel looking devices with a scraper attached.
“Are they okay out here with—that?” he asked, pointing at the animal lounging on his stomach with his big reddish head resting on paws the size of a damn bear, his amber eyes blinking slowly at Arynn as if he was contemplating eating him for dinner.
“Gizmo would no sooner harm a hair on those girls’ heads, than I would. Come on, you look like you could use a drink, of the non-alcoholic variety.”
With one last meaningful glance at Gizmo, he took in the two girls’. One with blonde hair like Sheila’s and one with dark locks like his own. Those blue eyes had flashed at him, reminding Arynn so much like his brother Torq in a temper. Damn, he wished his brother was here to see Rebel in action. He’d be giving the other man a call when he left, hopefully with more than just a memory.
“Water or tea. I also have non-caffeinated pop?” Sheila asked, her hands twisting together.
Good, she was as nervous as him. “Why don’t you explain.” He nodded toward her then the french doors where he could still see Rebel and the other girl. It took him a moment to remember she had an equally awesome name, Romie, walking around as they scooped up Gizmo’s shit.
“Where do you want me to start?”
“How about at the beginning and explain why my daughter calls you mom, when you’re clearly not her mother,” he bit out.
Sheila slapped her hands on the granite counter. “First of all, just because you carry a child for nine months and deliver a baby, doesn’t make you a mother. Second, you will treat me with respect in my home as I’ve never done anything, except do what I could to provide you with updates on Rebel from the time she came home from the hospital.”
Arynn nodded. “I’ll give you that. However, my kid is calling you mom. Living in your home with your family. Is she calling your husband dad as well?” The thought had he and his wolf growling.
Chapter Three
Sheila knew he had a right to be angry, expected it even. Heck, he was only brushing the tip of the mountain of truths to come, but all of a sudden, she wondered if she’d made a huge mistake in calling the man. At five foot seven, she usually didn’t feel small next to a man, but with Arynn looming over her, his towering height made her feel tiny. When she’d first seen him standing in the backyard, her traitorous body had reacted like a hussy in heat, forgetting he was her youngest daughter’s father. The one man who she couldn’t allow herself to feel for. He stood with his legs braced apart in a pair of jeans that hugged his ass and massive thighs. His leather jacket hid what she assumed was a muscular upper half. She wanted him to turn toward the door, so she could see him in the light of day instead of a quick glance in a smoky bar before—nope, she wasn’t thinking of Sarah taking off with him. Finally, as he turned, she’d nearly swallowed her tongue at the absolute perfection of his chiseled jaw and the dark hair that looked like he’d run his hands through it too many times to count, yet she could see him gracing the cover of a magazine. He was that gorgeous and way out of her league.
“Well, are you going to answer my fucking questions?” Arynn snarled.
His swearing brought her out of the trance she’d seemed to be caught in. “Listen here, bud
dy, you don’t cuss in my house. There is no husband, so no, Rebel doesn’t call anyone daddy. I’ve raised her since the day she was born because Sarah was a selfish,” she paused to take a breath. “My sister was not mother material. I had to talk her into carrying to term, promising I’d take care of the baby like my own. I had known at the time I was pregnant as well, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Instead of having one precious baby, it was like I had twins and that was that. I’d have called you for help, but that was not allowed. You see, Sarah made rules. I could keep Rebel with Romie and me, but I had to do it alone. No man, no help. And before you say something that’s just going to piss me off, I did it without question, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. If I wouldn’t have agreed, she’d have—it doesn’t matter because I agreed.”
“You speak about Sarah in the past tense. Is she better now, or did she just leave you with our daughter and go on about her life as if nothing happened?” Anger showed in his handsome face.
This was harder than she’d expected. Why she thought calling him and asking him to come down to explain the changes she sensed in her daughter, his daughter, would be easy, she had no clue. She needed to have her head examined; that’s what she needed.
“Sarah and Dan were killed in an—accident when the girls were younger. Neither had much of anything to do with me, Rebel, or Romie from the day I brought Rebel home. When they died, it was in their will that I become her legal guardian. You weren’t listed on the birth certificate since Sarah and Dan were, um, married when she delivered.”
Sheila wouldn’t tell him how hard Dan worked to get rid of the abomination, his words, in his wife’s stomach. All the while, his own child was in her own stomach, and he’d acted as if Romie didn’t exist. The man was truly evil as was Sarah. She hated to think of her twin that way, but it was the reality she’d lived with her entire life. She’d hated Daniel Bradshaw more than anything or anyone in the entire world. When he’d forced himself on her in a supposed drunken stupor, thinking she was her sister, not taking no for an answer, Sheila had screamed and fought in her head, but could do nothing but lay there, drunk on spiked punch and drugged by her own twin. Had Susan, her own mother not seen what had happened, almost from beginning to end, and threaten to take away Sheila’s chance to escape by withdrawing her funds for college, she’d have gone to the police. Susan hadn’t even offered to help her up, or a hug as she’d cried. In the end, she’d kept their dirty little secret until she’d discovered she was pregnant, the night of Sarah’s bachelorette party.
“How long?” Arynn kept his eyes pinned on hers.
“Going on ten years now.” She didn’t pretend not to know what he was asking. “Before you rage, or call me names, there’s things you don’t know, things you need to understand, but my girls are my number one priority. My mother, she’s not a good woman. Nor is she—normal, which I think you can relate. Can’t you, Mr. Dunn?”
“I think we can do away with the formalities, Sheila. My name is Arynn. Nobody calls me Mr. Dunn, not even clients. Why don’t you spell it out for me, exactly what you think you know about me.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
Sheila sighed, the sound of his leather creaking as he moved those arms that looked big enough to lift her over his head and launch her across the room. “Rebel and Romie are four weeks apart. As you can see they’re basically the same size.” She took a deep breath. “Both girls have taken dance, gymnastics and martial arts since they were two. Now, don’t give me that look. They’re special, both of them. However, Rebel—there’s been a change since she’s gotten her monthly cycle. Do I need to explain what that is?”
Arynn slashed his hand in a motion that indicated he either wanted her to continue, or he didn’t want to hear more on that subject. Sheila almost went into detail, knowing many men didn’t like to think of women’s periods. One look at his clenched jaw kept her on track. “Well, she’s been a little more growly, kinda like you’re doing right now. Also, she says she feels something moving inside her, an itching beneath her skin and says she has a wolf in her. Rebel laughed it off at first, but I realized some of the stories my ancestors had written about were true. You’re a shifter, yes?”
“Your ancestors?” Arynn turned to look out the window then back at Sheila.
Her mouth felt dry. The way he was looking at her, then out at the girls, she had a feeling he was sizing them up. If she admitted what her ancestors claimed and what her mother was, or rather could do, he might think she was crazy. To give herself a moment, she grabbed a glass out of the cabinet and filled it with water from the fridge. After taking a healthy swallow, she looked back up, shocked to find he’d moved around the center island and was only a couple feet from her.
“Finish it, Sheila,” he ordered.
“My mother’s family claim to have Fae blood. Sarah had it as well, but it skipped me. Romie, to an extent has some extraordinary abilities that aren’t like your average preteen, but Rebel—” She took a swallow of water, nearly choking as it went down the wrong pipe. “Today, she beat the crap out of a boy twice her size for being a jerk. Mind you, I don’t condone that sort of behavior or the girls fighting in general. When they told me about the incident, Rebel’s knuckles were swollen. Within minutes the swelling had gone down. I bet if we were to go look now, there would be no sign of injury. She’s always been quick to heal, but now, a cut will be gone by morning. I marked it down to the Fae in her, but then she told me about the—other. That’s not Fae. Believe me, the Fae I know are awful. My girls are nothing like them. Rebel and Romie, they’re everything good in this world. But, if things keep happening, and if this itching continues and she truly has a wolf in her, then what happens if it comes out when she’s excited, or mad, or in a situation she feels threatened?”
Arynn took the glass from her fingers and chugged the remaining water. He sat the empty glass on the counter, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before answering. “You were correct. I’m a shifter.” He took a breath before continuing. “When Rebel was born, she smelled completely human. There was no scent of wolf on her. Your mother,” he growled. “Your mother is Dark Fae, isn’t she?”
Sheila blinked up at Arynn. He was looming over her, making her feel threatened. “I...I don’t know what you mean.”
“Mister, you got about two seconds to get away from my mom, or I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”
Arynn heard the sweet voice of his daughter threaten him and knew she truly meant them. He turned, meeting glowing blue eyes. Oh, his baby girl wasn’t only a shifter, but she was an alpha female in the making.
The big animal they called a pet crouched next to her. His growl rumbled from deep within his huge body. Arynn outweighed Gizmo by almost fifty pounds, yet the dog was ready to battle for his charges.
“Rebel, where’s Romie?” Sheila’s voice quivered.
His protective instincts rose at the fear in the woman’s voice. Mate, his wolf whined, but he smacked the word down. The animal thought Sarah had been theirs and look where that had gotten them.
“Rebel, your mom and I are discussing things. I’m not going to hurt her. I promise.” He met the too intelligent stare of his daughter, watching her weigh his words.
“Then you won’t mind taking a few steps away from her, would you?” Rebel’s tone didn’t raise.
He had an insane urge to test the girl, see what she could really do. The sound of a car door shutting had Rebel tensing. Immediately, he was at her side.
“She’s here. Why’s she here?” Rebel looked at her mom, worry now flashing in her gaze.
Sheila bit her lip. “Arynn, I—”
Romie slid into the room, a duffel in each hand. “It’s go time, people.”
Arynn stared around the kitchen feeling as if he’d stepped into the twilight zone. “What the heck is going on?”
The blonde girl named Romie came in, the two bags almost as big as her making her walk slower than he was sure she wanted. “We don’t h
ave time to bring him up to speed, mom. I’m sorry, but I need to do something you’re going to be mad at.”
He frowned as he was trying to figure out what she meant, when he felt a presence enter his mind, acting as if his walls were nothing but thin sheets to be moved aside. Now, he could’ve forced her out, but Romie was goodness and light. Instantly, information filtered into him, showing him the truth of why Susan Barnes, the mother of Sheila and Sarah, was not to be trusted and why they felt it necessary to run. He heard her gasp as she got close to his own wolf presence. As quickly as she entered, she left, leaving him slightly dizzy.
“Romie Brielle, you and I will have a talk when we’re safe. Go to the safe room, now.” Sheila began ushering them out of the kitchen.
Rebel shook her head. “No, we need to leave. He’s going to get us out of here, aren’t you?”
Another door shut, making him realize the threat wasn’t just the grandmother of his child, but whoever else she brought with her. He picked up the two bags.
Rebel grabbed his arm. “You might need your arms free. Let me.” She picked them up a lot easier than Romie had.
“My Escalade is out front. I’m assuming it’s either surrounded or messed with.”
Romie closed her eyes. “No, once we get out of here, your vehicle is clear. They blocked the two ends of the driveway. Grandmother is waiting at the back of her car. She doesn’t want to soil her suit. It’s Chanel, dear.”