Page 72 of Rejected Exile

"Of course." I pass it over to Lance. "Though I have to warn you, the handwriting of the alpha who wrote the pages is a little messy. I think he was using some kind of calligraphic pen or something. I've no idea how anyone ever read cursive like that back in the day."

Lance gives me an amused smile. "It's not as antiquated as you might think. I've had to learn how to read even the most slanted and thin styles of cursive in my time doing research for the Preservation Archives. I'll type it up so we can all refer to it whenever we need to. You go check on your friend."

"Thank you," I tell him, though I note the way he saysfriend.Clearly there's some tension between the rest of the guys and Kieran. That's not really unexpected, but I don't know how to handle it. "I'll be right back. I'm sure he's just stormed off outside and is cooling off in the night air."

Lance and Finn exchange a look. Clearly they don't agree with my assessment—they probably think Kieran is off getting bit by a vamp and injected with venom at this very second.

But it can't be that fast for him. Besides, they don'tknowhim like I do. The Kieran I knew, the one I grew up with, wouldn't have run into the arms of chemical oblivion at the first sign of trouble.

And even if that's what he did—evenifhe ran off to the woods to find the vampire coven hanging out there and offer up some warm, fresh neck—Roarke will have tracked him down and stopped him by now. He'll be able to talk sense into Kieran. They were always joined at the hip, and that clearly hasn't changed.

This is what I tell myself as I jog down the stairs.

Then I reach the hallway, see Cat's stricken face as she sits at the kitchen table, and turn to follow her gaze.

The door—I thought he'd thrown it open or kicked it down. But it's much worse than that. Where once a thick slab of finished hardwood with leaded glass stood, there's now little but splinters hanging off the twisted hinges. The glass is smashed on the steps of the front porch, the doorknob thrown halfway out the door, and parts of the doorway have been gouged by long, thick nails.

What's worse is the drips of blood mingled in with the hardwood bits. I can see them with my wolf-heightened eyes and smell them with my nose.

He hit the door, fought it, and made it through in half a second without even stopping to check his injuries.

I rush over to my foster mother. "Are you okay?"

"Something like that." Cat's expression is horrified, her face drained of color. She blinks up at me with wide eyes. "That big thing... that was awerewolf?"

"Yes."

"I've seen wolves in zoos. I knew werewolves were bigger. Butthatisn't what I expected." She shakes her head. "A second after he was out the door, Roarke came down, and thenheturned into this big furry thing and flew out into the night after him. Which one was that, the one who destroyed the door?"

"Kieran."

"Of course." She snorts inelegantly. "Barely back in your life for the span of a heartbeat and he's already causing trouble. Not that you're looking for it, but you don't have my approval."

"Noted," I tell her with a small twitch of my lips. "He was upset by some of the things we discovered about the curse... and my father. I want to go check on him. Do me a favor and stay in here, okay?"

"You don't have to tell me twice. I'm not a feral cat—I don't go out any open door. Or demolished door, as the case may be." She shakes her head again, the series of events seemingly too much for evenhertough-as-nails spirit to accept. "Be careful, okay? I don't want that fool doing to you what he did to the front door."

"I will be. But I have a wolf inside me now too, remember? I'll be okay out there."

"Yeah. Yeah."

There's not much I can do to soothe Cat's frazzled nerves from here. Briefly, I consider calling up to Lance and Finn—surely when they sent me down here to check on Kieran they weren't expectingthis—but decide against it. They already seem to have a negative impression of the male, and I don't want to add to it. Better to tell them about the front door in need of replacementafterI've caught up with him and dragged him back, sober, to prove to them he isn't who they think he is.

Unless I'm proven wrong.

Unless he isn't whoIthink he is.

Not that I even know who that is, I reflect as I step delicately over the shattered glass of the door and down the porch steps to the yard. Kieranwasmy closest friend. Then, my bigger desire. The worst heartbreak I ever felt—and the biggest asshole I've ever met. Now? I don't know anymore, except that I wish I could have the version of him I once dreamed of, who held me tight and made it all better.

It isn't fair to still want someone who rejected you. Whose words, tossed out in bitter anger, left you broken and distraught on the ground, certain you're nothing and no one. Kieran deserved to suffer for what he did to me. Maybe he still does. But I can't help wanting to go to him, especially when he's so tormented by his own doubts and guilt that he smashed through a door until he was bleeding to escape them.

Guilt.That's what I saw in his eyes. It's what I smell in the air, lingering behind him, as I follow his scent to the road and out into the darkness.Guilt.I have to believe it's because he rejected me. I want to know that he will ask for my forgiveness, and I can give it.

Otherwise, what wealmostdid with each other would be the worst, most shameful mistake of my life, because if he isn't guilty for rejecting me, then he never deserved me at all. And I just gave myself to him. Without even so much as a word about the past.

It was my wolf that did it,I tell myself. As I step towards the waxing moon, smelling blood in the air, tasting chaos on the tip of my tongue, I know that isn't true.

The wolf inside me wants Kieran.

---