Page 32 of The Storm Within

“Back up,” Killian growled, eyeing them like he dared his family to defy him. “He’s my cub.”

Ryker didn’t correct his brother, telling him the boy was only his nephew. Just like he didn’t say anything about Quinton claiming Ethan as his grandson. Well, he didn’t say much about it.

“I’m dying to know,” Hyett said, taking a step forward. “What is it?”

Killian gazed at Ethan’s back, fully focused on examining the cub. Three full minutes passed before he glanced at them. “He has the start of wings.”

The message must’ve become garbled in the space between them, because there was no way he’d just said…

“What do you mean ‘start of wings’? What kind of wings? Are you sure?” Ryker shot the questions in rapid succession, ignoring his brother’s order to back up.

He needed to see this for himself.

When he leaned over the bed, making sure to be careful of his mate, Ryker’s brows shot to his hairline.

On both sides of Ethan’s spine was delicate bone tissue protruding about half an inch out of his skin. The lines ran about four inches in length down his back. “Those look like—”

“The start of wings. Just like Killian said.” Stewart smiled reassuringly at his nephew. “Do they hurt, tater tot?”

“Uchy.” Ethan wiggled his hips, as if the air itself could scratch them.

Stewart grazed his palm over them a few times. “Does that help?”

It had to, because Ethan let out a long, satisfied sigh. “Gwapes pwease.”

“Who has wings?” Killian frowned. “Winged beasts, but from my understanding, they have fangs.”

“Your understanding?” Ryker asked. “You learned that from Damon Frost.”

“My point is he would have fangs if he was a winged beast,” Killian argued.

“Sorry.” Ryker blew out a breath. “Nate is just running out of time, and I’m on edge.” He stood there and finally told his family what had taken place after he’d been sucked into the motel like he’d been made of water.

Quinton’s features darkened. “I’m going to kill the son of a bitch. That’s why you didn’t want me touching you.”

Ryker glanced at Ethan, wondering if the toddler was going to pick up the new curse words, but he was too busy eating his grapes, his hand right back in Nate’s hair.

“But Nate didn’t tell you how long before it was too late?” Hyett asked, his brows pulled together in concern.

“No, and I have no idea how long it’s been since I was stuck wandering around a black void with no way to tell time.” Ryker squatted, holding his arms over his head as he tried to think, his mate counting on him coming up with a way to rescue him before he lost his sanity.

“No!” Ethan shouted, his small face a mask of rage. “No hurt Nape!”

Ryker shot to his feet, his heart pounding. “What’s going on, Ethan? Is bad man hurting my mate?”

Everyone gasped when Ethan’s green irises began to swirl, tiny stars shooting through them. He held out his hand toward Ryker.

“What is it, buddy?” Kneeling next to the bed, he took the cub’s hand in his, instantly transported to… Ryker wasn’t sure, but he froze as images swirled all around him. They moved so fast he could barely keep up with them.

Then they slowed, now drifting gently by.

Memories. Glimpses into Ethan’s life—of his mom, Stewart, and of everyone who lived here.

It was hard to sift through them all. For a kid who was only three, Ethan had a ton of them.

The kid even had a memory of when he’d first learned how to walk, and even one of his mom’s funeral.

Letting Ethan know he was there for him, Ryker squeezed his tiny hand, now fully understanding where he was. Somehow, he was inside the cub’s mind.

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