Page 39 of Wrestling With Werewolves

Eventually I stand and head for the shower. If I’m this much of a mess after last night, I can’t imagine how my mate feels.

Holy moons. I thought of her that way instinctively. I’ve got to find her and talk to her. It’s not right, the way things happened last night. I know that, I just…the harder I look for my earlier excuses, the more difficult it is to actually find them.

I twist the silver shower knob on, stepping under the cold water to wash away all evidence of what I did.

Big Daddy is silently watchful as I go through the motions of washing up and dressing. He stays silent as I leave my apartment and head up the main drag toward what used to be an empty spot on the street but is now Arkan’s father, Vikand’s office. It’s too early for anyone to be about—probably too early for Lola to be up—but Vikand is here all the time, it seems.

The glass-paned storefront window is full of dusty books stacked in what appears to be complete disarray. Though, having known Vikand for a short time, I suspect he knows where every book is. I grip the branch-shaped handle and open a thick wooden door, a small bell tinkling to announce my arrival.

Inside, the small space is filled floor to ceiling with books on shelves. They overflow the shelves onto the floor in big, misshapen stacks. Ancient-looking papers stick out of about half of them, handwritten notes scribbled right to the very edges.

Muttering reaches me from somewhere in the back. I follow the sound across the small space and around a corner to a standing desk. There used to be a computer on that desk, but now it’s just more stacks of books. Vikand stands there, glasses perched on the tip of his nose and a giant open book in one hand as he turns the page with the other.

His black tail swishes slowly behind him, short wavy hair slicked back over his pointed ears. Goddess, he and Arkan look so much alike. Their personalities couldn’t be more different though. Our current Keeper is charming and direct with a surprising sense of humor. His father is…none of those things.

When Vikand doesn’t seem to notice my presence, I clear my throat and step to the very front of his table.

Black brows scrunch together as he lifts his gaze to mine, jerking back as if startled.

He closes the book and sets it down, lifting his glasses off his nose. He folds them carefully and tucks them in a pocket of his fitted gray vest. “Alpha, what are you doing here?” He looks confused.

I cock my head to the side, examining the peculiar older centaur. “I’m here to discuss my wolf. I thought Connall mentioned it to you when he invited you to our leadership meeting.”

Vikand strokes his chin with long black fingers. “Ah, come to think of it, he did. While I was there, I was considering the magic that allowed Morgan Hector to kill Wesley. Gods, it’s a deep, ancient magic she called. Do you know?—”

“I need to discuss my wolf with you,” I interject. “The Wesley issue is done. My wolf is a problem.”

Big Daddy grunts deep in my mind, lifting his head to narrow his shining eyes at me.

Vikand crosses his arms, halting the swish of his tail. “Tell me what’s happening, and we can go from there.”

I sigh. “Right before the Wesley events, my wolf began speaking to me. His voice is clear in my mind, which is usually cause for celebration among our people, as you probably know.”

Vikand nods, brows furrowing again as he stares at me intensely.

I continue, “Typically, it’s a sign of strength to be able to speak to one’s wolf. It’s something I always secretly wished for, if I’m honest. But then he began talking, and we are not aligned.”

Vikand shifts forward, placing both hands flat on his desk. “Not aligned? In what way?”

A rumbly growl echoes in my throat, Big Daddy making his displeasure at this conversation known. I grunt and shove his ire down. “We don’t agree on anything. He fights me. He’s dominant and sometimes I feel he lacks the more rational side that allows me to make long-term decisions.”

Don’t need that. Instinct is best. Like with Lola.

As soon as he’s made that statement, he disappears. I sigh and point to my head.

“It’s happening right now. He disagrees that he even needs to consider the long term. He says instinct is best.” I leave Lola out of it, because thinking about her pain from last night makes me want to flip tables and punch myself.

Vikand nods slowly, glancing off into the book stacks as he seems to mull over my words. He sucks at his teeth and turns back to me. “Have you considered that he’s right?”

A satisfied chuff echoes from the depths of my mind.

I grit my teeth. “If I listened to him, I’d be doing things I shouldn’t be doing.”

“Like what?” Vikand opens his arms wide. “What, precisely, has he suggested you do that would be so bad?”

I debate the merits of sharing all of this with Vikand, so I level him with a serious look. “This stays between us. I haven’t even discussed this with Connall. Or Arkan,” I tack on.

Vikand nods. “I can keep a secret; although, you may have noticed my boy is incredibly intuitive, despite the charming persona.”

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