Page 9 of Roaring Flames

“So what do these packs have to do with the Heart?”

Christian runs a hand through his dark hair, ruffling the black strands. “When wolves are of a certain age, they form a pack. Usually that’s signified by a mark forming on their skin.” He absently runs a finger across his wrist, a forlorn expression marring his face before he masks it. “A lot of times, a wolf will receive a second mark as well—a mate mark.”

“A mate mark,” I repeat, feeling oddly numb. Empty. There’s a hollowness in my chest that refuses to abate.

“Not all pack members will have a mate. Some wolves within the same pack will have different mates. Only strong packs will share a mate—what we call a Heart, though that term is often interchangeable with mate. It’s believed that the Heart will strengthen the pack, make it more cohesive and unified. Wolves will know if they’re a Heart by their eighteenth birthday. Before then, they’ll just believe they’re a mateless wolf.”

“Only wolves are Hearts?” Something akin to jealousy climbs insipidly inside of me.

Christian casts me a strange, unreadable look. “Usually, but not always. Sometimes a witch or warlock can be the Heart of a pack. Sometimes it’s a vampire or a succubus or a?—”

“Wait, wait. Wait a fucking minute. Back up.” I hold my hands up as if I can somehow fend off his words, yet they continue to come at me, a knife that’s all blade and no hilt. “Vampire? Succubus?”

Christian offers me a smile that’s almost pitying. It instantly pisses me off.

“There’s a lot you need to know, Isabella.” He hesitates, his lips firming. “But I’m not sure I’m the one who should be telling you all of this. Your…yourmatesshould.” He speaks through clenched teeth.

“Mates?”

And you’re not one of them?

He seems to realize what he said a second too late. His eyes widen in panic.

“Izzy—”

“I havemates?”

“I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

“Who are they?” I demand, but I know. I fucking know.

A wave of anger capsizes any rational thought in my head. All I know is rage. Rage and betrayal and fear—all three of them so potent they threaten to drown me.

Before Christian can answer my first question, I follow it up with, “Do they know? Do they fucking know that I’m their so-called Heart?”

His silence is answer enough.

Those cunt-licking, ass-kissing, dildo-fucking assholes! Why didn’t they tell me?

And why does Ashton continue to push me away and hurt me if he knows?

I feel like an idiot.

A stupid, oblivious dumbass.

“How is this even possible?” I explode, throwing my arms up in the air. “I’m human. One hundred percent human.”

“Perhaps—”

“Perhaps?!” I’m afraid to admit my voice rises to an embarrassing level. I’m sure scientists haven’t even discovered this particular sound wave yet.

“We should sit down with Hale and Gerry?—”

“Hale and Gerry?”

They know too?

Out of everyone, their betrayal hurts the most.

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