Page 103 of Vicious Luna

A flicker of movement in my periphery draws my attention, and I glance across the picturesque park to see a tall, broad-shouldered man walking in my direction with two paper coffee cups clasped in his hands. He’s dressed in tailored grey slacks and a black button-down, his dark hair shaved short and a thin dusting of stubble coating his jaw. His height and build are similar to mine, though his skin tone is a little deeper bronze, his nose slightly more prominent. His eyes are set a bit wider, but they’re the same dark brown as my own.

He walks with a confident stride, though the furrow of his brow is a pretty solid indication that he’s feeling just as out of place as I am right now. Nothing about this situation is comfortable. In hindsight, maybe I should’ve let Avery come with me. She’s a talker, while I still have no idea what I’m supposed to say to this man.

Hey Dad, sorry I didn’t know who I really was and helped lead an effort to exterminate our entire species, hope we’re cool…

As he draws closer, I can’t stop staring like a fucking creep, trying to identify every similarity between the two of us.The color of our eyes. The curve of our lips. The sharp angle of our jaws.I’m not Cole Bauer’s spitting image by any means, but I can still see myself reflected in his features.

I’m not sure how to feel about that.

He silently steps up to the bench I’m seated on, easing down to sit next to me and turning at the waist to extend one of the coffees in offering. “You must be Cameron,” he drawls in a low, gravelly tone.

Fuck, does his voice sound like mine?

“And you must be Cole,” I reply gruffly, dipping my head in acknowledgement as I reach out to take the cup from him. I immediately bring it to my lips and take a sip, buying myself time to think of what the hell to say. But the only thought that crosses my mind as I choke down the bitter liquid is that I wish there was whiskey in it; just a little something to take the edge off.

“I knew your mom as Margot Kinney,” Cole states, the deep tenor of his voice cutting through the tense silence. “We met at one of my clubs and just hit it off. It wasn’t anything serious, but when she showed up later saying she was pregnant, that changed.”

I lower my coffee, wrapping both hands around the cup as I lean forward to stare out at the small pond in front of us, resting my elbows on my thighs.

“I wanted to do right by her; by both of you,” he continues, joining me in looking at the pond to spare us the discomfort of eye contact. “I wanted her to move into the packhouse with me so we could raise you there together."

My eyes start to glaze over as I track the ripples on the surface of the water. “So what happened?" I ask, an undercurrent of bitterness in my tone.

Cole heaves a sigh, dragging a hand down over his face and swiping it across his chin. “I told her I was a shifter. She didn’t believe me, so I showed her my wolf, and she was… well, she was terrified.” He shakes his head with a wry chuckle. “She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. So I gave her space, thinking she’d get used to the idea and come around before you were born, but then…” he abruptly trails off, dropping his gaze to the coffee cup in his hands and picking at the plastic lid with his thumbnail.

“Thenwhat?” I prompt, flickering a sideways glance in his direction.

“There was a fire.” He swallows thickly, lifting his gaze to the pond again with a haunted look in his eyes. “Her wholeapartment complex burned down. I spent months investigating it, exploiting my connections with the local P.D. to get my hands on every piece of information I could about what happened. The fire department ultimately determined that it was an electrical fire, and they issued a death certificate for Margot. They closed the case, and as difficult as it was, I had to accept that and move on.”

He swivels his head to face me, dark eyes brimming with regret as I turn my head to meet them. “I want you to know that I didn’t just write you off,” he says hoarsely. “I grieved for you. I never had reason to believe you were still alive out there somewhere, or I wouldn’t have rested until I found you. I’m not the type of man who would abandon his own child, no matter the circumstance.”

His sincerity is like a punch to the gut, my throat tightening uncomfortably as I digest his words. I’d already been told the news was a shock to him, but I guess I didn’t fully believe that was true until now. It was easier to assume he just didn’t want me; that he was some evil sonofabitch that threatened my mom and cast us aside. It’s harder to accept that I missed out on growing up among my own kind, with a father who could’ve loved me, just because my mom feared what she couldn’t understand.

“Yeah, I get it,” I breathe, shifting the coffee cup from one hand to the other as I wipe my sweaty palms on the denim hugging my thighs. “Sorry, I’m just trying to take this all in.”

“Me too.” The corner of his lips lift in a faint smile, my chest tightening as I return the gesture.

Another tense silence descends upon us. I take a sip of my coffee and he does the same, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a swallow as he leans back against the bench. Then he raises a fist to his mouth and clears his throat, the muscle in his jaw feathering as he turns his gaze on me. “Astrid said your mom passed away.”

I jerk a nod, chest burning with repressed emotion. I’vealways had trouble talking about her death. Despite how long it’s been, the pain of losing her at such a young age and the sharp turn my life took after has tainted even the good memories. “About ten years ago now,” I state flatly, averting my eyes.

“How’d it happen?”

“Cancer.”

Cole winces. “That must’ve been difficult.”

“It was pretty quick,” I murmur. “It had already metastasized to her bones when they found it, so there wasn't much she could do for treatment. And she wasn't really lucid at the end.” I swing my gaze back on him. “She started rambling about werewolves.”

He stiffens. “And that’s how The Guild came to be?”

I nod again, lifting my cup and taking another sip of the shitty, liquorless coffee.

“Did she have a good life before that?” Cole questions, swiping a hand over his chin thoughtfully. “Was she happy?"

I swallow the coffee, pausing to consider his question. “I think so,” I breathe, my throat achingly raw as I think back to what my mother was like when she was alive. “She was a good mom. She loved my dad-Jonathan, I mean. She was always a little high-strung, but I guess that makes sense now since she was on the run. Guess that’s also probably why we moved around so much.”

He nods slowly, dark eyes still trained on mine. “And what about you? Did you have a good childhood?”

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