Page 92 of Savage Claim

Thankfully, the shifting sped up my healing, and my wounds were almost gone. It was nice not to have those little painful reminders of my asshole biological father.

My snout lifted into the air, inhaling the scents of the yard and surrounding forest. I’d spent the whole afternoon traipsing around in my wolf form, getting used to how my muscles moved and senses worked. Fane would need to teach me how to fight like a wolf so I could battle enemies in both forms.

Speaking of enemies, Barric barged into Ruin’s house, demanding he turn over Fane and me. Ruin played his part well and finally convinced the head alpha he had no idea where we were. He even allowed Jax to search his home. He also had Nik scrub the security cameras around town, so we weren’t seen getting into Wrath’s car.

When I was a kid and fantasized about my real parents, a man like Barric sure as hell didn’t come to mind. But Tamara? The way the older members of the pack spoke of her painted a picture of a sweet, kindhearted, and maybe a little rebellious soul. While in foster care, I dreamed of someone like her busting into the house and stealing me away.

She obviously loved me if she’d planned my escape well before I was born, going against her fated mate. Tamara had to have known it would result in her death if Barric found out. And that was exactly what happened.

Before we escaped, I should have snatched a picture of her from the compound. Did I really look like her? We had the same smattering of freckles on our noses, but her eyes were green while mine were hazel. Would my hair have become the same shade as hers without the spell?

My life would have been so different if she could have escaped with me. I would have been cherished and loved. I would have been happy.

I reached up to wipe the moisture from my cheeks but instead of a hand, a black-and-red paw hovered over my face. With a huff, my paw fell back to the grass, and I allowed the tears to fall and disappear into my fur.

Spinning around, I trotted toward the back door Kesa left cracked so I could get inside. While I was exploring the forest earlier, Fane found me, his demon wolf slinking through the trees like a beast out of a nightmare. He kept his distance until I settled near a pond as exhaustion swept over me.

Fane had sat down beside me, his massive body pouring warmth into me like a fire. I couldn’t stop from snuggling into him and falling asleep for a little bit. When I woke up, he was still there, looking out at the water with a pensive stare. He didn’t say anything as he finally got up and trotted away.

I stepped into the warm house, engulfed in scents of cinnamon, nutmeg, and apples. Either Kesa had cooked dessert, or she was concocting some kind of potpourri. She loved crafting.

Crystal chandeliers dangled from high ceilings, decorative wallpaper met glossy wainscoting, and original hardwood floors stretched beneath decorative rugs. Even the curtains framing the large windows had that old-world feel. One of those gramophone things and a harp were in the music room.

After climbing the stairs, a tug in my center pulled me to the left, and I followed the bond’s command. It wasn’t leading me to Fane—I felt him outside—so this was something it wanted me to see.

I stopped at a door at the end of a hall, the faint hint of paint drifting up my nose from the ajar door. Inside, a few easels, some empty and some with painted canvas, stood on white drop cloths spotted with a rainbow of colors.

Fane’s mom had set up an art room for him.

One of the paintings caught my attention, and all the air syphoned from my lungs. I had to blink to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.

Two people were locked in an embrace beneath a full moon, surrounded by forest. Even though their faces were hidden as they buried them in each other, the tattoos on the man’s arms and the red hair gave them away.

Fane had painted us together. And this wasn’t a fabricated scene from his imagination but a memory he wasn’t supposed to have. I even wore the same shirt from that night, one of his.

After fighting those agrigons and demons in Mohan Wilds and nearly dying, Fane had taken me outside during the full moon to shift to heal my injuries. The painful fail had caused me to pass out in his arms. When I came to, he shared the details about his first shift and how he’d hurt his mother, giving her those scars on her face.

We’d held each other for a long time, offering comfort people like us usually refused.

Hope unfurled in my chest as I lifted my fingers toward the canvas. Was he remembering? Was the spell breaking?

“You just can’t help yourself, can you, Teague?”

I jumped at the sound of Fane’s gruff, angry voice and whipped around as he stood behind me, glaring.

“Fane, I, uh…” I huffed and tried to shrug, but it translated as a jerky head movement in my wolf form. “I just stumbled onto this place.”

He folded his arms. “You just happened to find my studio at the very end of one of the many halls?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered as he stormed to the painting, his teeth grinding. “Now that you’ve snooped around, you can leave.”

“Are you remembering?”

“No.”

The answer came too quickly, and his shoulders tensed beneath the gray t-shirt.

---