Page 14 of Wrestling With Werewolves

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER - RICHARD

Istride through the dark entry hall, the treehouse turning lights on for me as I go. A wide, circular wooden ramp leads up to the main living level, a cavernous open room with a kitchen on the left-hand side. After crossing the room toward an oversized pit sofa, I drop Lola’s bags on it and turn. Connall joins me, the princess right behind him, one hand on her elbow. She rubs the back of her arm as she stares at me.

“This is lovely,” she whispers. “Absolutely lovely.” But she’s barely looking around, even though the treehouse practically quivers with excitement at having a guest.

Instead, a scent cuts through the air—stress.

When I shoot Connall a look, he flares his nostrils and breathes in quietly. Green eyes flash to mine, and, like always, he reads my sentiment. Nodding, he drops Lola’s bags next to the ones I carried. Her scent grows stronger as he gives her a friendly smile, and turns to leave.

Her muscles begin shaking as she drops her hands to her waist, clasping them together as she flashes me a big smile.

Fake.

Big dark eyes fill with tears until she spins away from me and looks out of the glass wall opposite the kitchen.

Do. Something. Now! Big Daddy bellows in my mind. His suggestion is pointless—I’m already across the room.

That scent—her scent—calls to the deepest and most instinctual part of my alpha nature. I’m committed—no, it’s more than that. I’m resolute in my need to support and care for my people.

And that began to include her the moment she stepped into my haven.

I close the space and press my larger frame to hers, wrapping my hands around her upper arms.

She looks up, the first tear trekking down her bronze skin. Her trembling intensifies as I rub her upper arms.

“What’s wrong, Lola?” I murmur softly, a purr rolling out of my chest. I don’t use it often; it feels rumbly and awkward like an old engine starting up for the first time. But like every time I’ve purred to comfort, I know it works when her shoulders sag slightly. She presses her body closer to mine, tilting her chin up to stare into my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. The tears come faster.

“For what?”

“For crying.” The tears are full-on rivers now, and despite the fact that she’s pressed to me and I’m purring my heart out, the scent of anxiety perfumes the room with a bitter smell that chokes me.

Fixfixfixfixfix.

Big Daddy shoves to the forefront of my consciousness as I dip down and rub my cheek along Lola’s. If anything was going to comfort her, it would be that gesture.

But instead, the soft crying morphs into shuddering sobs, her athletic frame shaking as she rubs her cheek along mine. When she abandons the move and buries her face in my chest, I’m at a loss for the first time in a long time.

“Talk to me,” I encourage, sliding my hands around her upper body to cocoon her in a tight hug. My shirt is damp from her tears as Big Daddy paces anxiously behind my breastbone. My job is to protect, to soothe, to care for.

Lola pulls out of my arms enough to look up with a deep sigh. “I…messed up, Richard. I did something Papá asked me not to do, and people have suffered the consequences of my actions.”

Oh. Ohhhhh. I wondered if it was bothering her more than she let on. I need to hear the full story from Marco, too.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She gives me a sideways look. “I shouldn’t speak badly about my father; it’s in poor taste.”

Sighing, I put a finger beneath her chin and guide her near-black eyes back up to mine. “You’ve known me your entire life, Lola. You can tell me anything, and I will keep your confidence.”

She pauses for a moment, nipping at black-cherry lips before giving me a quick nod. “I try to play the part of the princess as well as I can, and honestly, I’m really good at it. I put the pack first almost all of the time.” Her tone goes bitter, or maybe forlorn?

“I’m sure you can sympathize with this, but the higher up the shifter food chain you go, the more politics come into play, or so Papá tells me. I can’t remember a time when we made choices simply because we wanted to.”

I’ve had similar conversations with Marco many times over the years. I chose to move to a small pack in Ever precisely because of what she’s talking about. Shifter court, at the highest level where she’s from, is all about politics and connections.

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