Page 54 of The Monster's Mate

“Are you okay?” I ask our packmate. “I know he wasn’t a great father, but that might have been a lot.”

Eldritch’s head shakes. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Bane asks.

“Yes, but I’d like to come with you now,” Eldritch says, still staring at where Wraith, Knight, and Hazel are.

I snort. “Not a problem.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Charity

Malice’s shadows feel way more chaotic than siphoning with Athos.

“We’re going to stay silent when we land,” Malice says softly. “I think you’ll want to see this.”

My heart races as his shadows begin to clear.

It’s a spacious room with gray brick walls and ceilings that must be fifteen or twenty feet high. A four-poster bed takes up part of the wall next to a large fireplace. In front of the burning fire are four chairs.

Veryn sits on one with his legs dangling in the air, since he’s not tall enough for his feet to touch the floor. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest and a pretty impressive scowl on his face.

A woman who seems to be in her early twenties, with long, light blond hair and large green eyes sits on a chair across from Veryn. She’s in a nearly floor-length gown with long sleeves.

There’s a regal elegance about her that makes me feel frumpy in comparison, but I’d also really like to know who she is and why she’s alone with my child.

Veryn looks fine—at least, physically—but who knows how much trauma he’s had to endure.

“I’m blocking as much of our sound as I can,” Malice whispers close to my ear. “But, as I mentioned, we should still aim to stay as quiet as possible. The young alpha is fine. I’m sensing no emotional damage.”

My hand flies to cover my mouth.

I might burst into tears of pure relief at seeing my kid in one piece.

“You know,” the woman says conversationally, “a hunger strike might not be the right approach. You’ll need your strength if you plan to try to run again.”

“That is Norah,” Malice murmurs. “Cyril’s mate.”

My heart skips an actual beat.

Jesus Christ.

Cyril is an idiot.

She’s stunning, and I probably owe her an apology. Unless she’s awful to my kid, because he’s completely innocent in this entire situation.

Then again, so is she.

I don’t care.

If she’s rude to my child, I’ll have to kneecap her.

End of story.

I don’t care if she turns into a dragon.

Veryn continues to scowl.

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