Page 3 of A Cursed Noel

Martin cuts right andup the mountain. “It’s worked so far,” he says. “But you’vebeen lucky. These missions aren’t ones that should be takenlightly. One mistake, that’s all it will take to lose you.”

“Maybe.” I shrug.“But it’s better than sitting on my ass like you.”

A roar unlike anythingI’ve ever heard from Martin breaks free of his throat. “Do notdisrespect me. Not as your alpha. Not as your father’s best friend.You owe him more than that,”he growls.

“And as his Betaand Warrior you owed him your life. Not the other way around,”I growl in return.

Martin stomps on thebrakes. We face off, our chests heaving in and out with how hard ourwolves charge to the surface. He wants to fight? Let’s go.I’mnot afraid, old man.

Silence fills thecabin. That, and rage. For several long minutes, that’s all thereis. I’m so angry, I’m sick from it. The hate I feel towardMartin—the world—everythingrages through me with enoughmenace to crush my bones.

My father shouldn’thave died. He shouldn’t have left my mother a shell of the femaleshe once was.Damn it. He shouldn’t have left me!

I was only fifteen. Ineeded him—to be my father, to be my best friend. How could he godown the way he did? Someone so good didn’t deserve to die. Notlike that.

My fury triggers thememory, the one I fight to push down. But there it is, front andcenter, making me relive the worst moment of my life.

We were in the kitchenwhen we felt him pass. Mom was at the stove, cooking ground venisonfor the shepherd’s pie she was making. We missed Dad. She wastrying to lift my spirits by making one of my favorite dishes. I wastrying to make her smile by sharing something Liam had done. Her headtilted up to laugh, only for her skin to pale and her face to scrunchwith agony.

I reached for her, myhand disappearing as a tundra of sorrow blinded me and brought me tomy knees. I didn’t understand what was happening until everyemotion I felt for Dad knocked into me: Love, awe, respect, evenfear. And then….nothing.

He was gone. I knew it.I recovered first, demanding answers. Mom just laid there, her blankstare toward the ceiling and barely alive. I snatched her up into myarms, begging her not to leave me.

After years of trying,I was her only child. As cruel as it was, I used it to my advantage,telling her I’d be alone if she left me too.

As mates, she shouldhave died by the rise of the next full moon following my father’spassing. But as much as she loved my father, she couldn’t leave theone thing they cherished most.

So, she stayed. Butonly barely.

On a good day, Mom willleave her bed and shower. Maybe cook dinner. Maybe do some laundry.On a bad, she doesn’t leave her room. She just lays in bed, staringat the bedside photo of their wedding day. She barely eats enough tosustain her inner beast, and now her hair is falling out in chunks.

“Aric,” Martinsays. The weight of the guilt he carries materializes in the way hespeaks my name. Martin doesn’t want me to hunt. He doesn’t wantme to hurt. He doesn’t understand that hunting is how I beat backthe pain, and is the only way to placate my beast. I’m trying tohang onto the life I have left, andwereslike him aren’tletting me.

He closes his eyes,taking several deep breaths before he opens them.

Sadness replaces therage so prominent moments before. When he speaks, it’s like he’sheaded for a funeral instead of my home. “I know what I did, Aric.I know how I failed you and your mother. I feel it and grieve everyday. That day in Lesoto, I watched my mate and the best man I’llever know die. I live with the decisions I made every day.” Heangles his position to better see me. “Yet I still try to live.You, you’re trying to die.”

I swallow hard. Maybe Iam.

He starts up themountain again. A few miles pass in silence. Having stayed awake forseveral days, hits me all at once. I’m ready to collapse eventhough I’m trying not to show it.

Nothing like catchingMimi riding a bear down a path to wake me right up. She holds out abranch full of berries, using her magic to drop them into the bear’sopen mouth before gobbling down a few of her own.

I forget that I’mstill supposed to be angry at Martin. “Did you see that?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says,sounding defeated.

I cock a brow at him.“Is there something going on that I should know about?”

“Desperate times callfor desperate measures,” he mumbles.

“Huh?”

He drags his free handdown his suddenly very sweaty skin. “I need advice and requestedMimi’s presence.”

“You need advice?”I ask.

“Yes.”

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