Page 45 of To Crave Truly

The deep groove on the surface of my father’s desk where a knife went through my hand.

So many memories. So much pain.

So much hate.

I stood at the edge of the desk and waited for my father to finish whatever it was he was working on. Old habits had me stood regimentally still, my gaze fixed on the painting that hung on the wall behind my father. The scene depicted the great witch hunt in Salem with three witches being burnt alive. The consequences of ignorance and stupidity was what he’d say to me, and I never missed the implications of his words. Hard not to when they were always accompanied by something painful.

“Fenris, I’m disappointed.”

Well, that was not a great start to our conversation. “Why, father?”

“Are you really that much of an idiot?” His voice was bitter, and he looked at me with something tantamount to disgust.

“No. But I am always doing something to disappoint so my options are probably numerous.”

He scoffed. “My, we are in a provoking mood this evening, aren’t we? The wedding, you fool. Elissa has cancelled it.”

“Ah. That.”

“Yes, that. Care to explain?”

I swallowed, trying to buy myself more time to think of something suitable to say. Not that there would be anything suitable. I’d ruined his plans for the future and there was nothing I could say that was going to make that okay.

“We decided we would not suit.”

Bang. He stood up and slammed his fist on the desk. “Would not suit?” Bang. “Like that matters, boy. Like that has any bearing on a successful marriage. This wasn’t about you; it was about the future of mages.”

“With all due respect, father—”

“Respect?! Where was your respect when you called the wedding off? Where was your respect when you flounced around with that whore who has more than enough men wrapped around her disgusting fingers that she didn’t need you to—”

I saw fucking red. I threw a blast of wind at him so hard I propelled him into that stupid fucking painting and pinned him there.

“That’s enough,” I growled.

“Put me down this instant.”

“No,” I yelled. “Lori Monroe is the most amazing woman I have ever met, and I will not let you sully that.”

He laughed, the sound a wheeze as he tried to breathe through the pressure that I was putting on his chest. “You’re a fool. She doesn’t love you. No one loves you.”

That wasn’t true. I knew it wasn’t true. I had felt love. I had memories of my mother and her love for me before she had died. And I knew Lori loved me. I could see it in her eyes every time she looked at me. I know we hadn’t even kissed, but, as soon as I got back to base, I was going change that. “You’re wrong.”

“You’re weak and pathetic.”

“Really?” I asked with a grin. “Then why are you still pinned beneath my power?”

His smile dropped and, for the first time in my life, I saw a flicker of fear darken my father’s eyes.

“I can feel it, you know. Your magic. Like a fly buzzing around an elephant. Inconsequential.”

“Let me go, Fenris.”

“Feeling vulnerable?”

“No,” he said, spittle flying out his mouth. He looked ridiculous, pinned against that painting he loved. Like an angry pissed off badger.

“What do you know about the Wanderers?”

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