Page 64 of His Fate

His physique, though he still appears to be around sixty, is very fit and there are faint markings on his forearms, biceps, shoulders, and chest. Including one at the hollow of his shoulder, a mark from his fated mate.

Jesus, I need to sit.

"What in the actual fuck is going on?" Posey practically sobs as her knees give out.

I catch her and look at my brother, the asshat dressed like he's going to a five star gym with a shit eating grin on his face. I scowl as I guide my mate to the only piece of furniture left in the room—a recliner that isn't nearly big enough for either of us—but instead Posey drops to the floor and crawls over to her father so I wiggle my big ass into the chair.

"Daddy?"

Hank smiles and lifts his right hand to her cheek as Henrich lowers his leg. "Hi, baby girl." Then he pushes himself upright, shakily, gets into a seated position and wraps Posey in a hug.

Then my beautiful Josephine falls apart.

They sit like that for a while, Posey crying, Hank hugging her and rocking them, speaking soothing words into her hair just as a father would. It's rather beautiful and sweet but I also know this is merely the calm before the storm because once the many explanations come forth, well, I am sure my mate is going to unleash hell on the lot of us.

"I don't… I don't understand." She sniffles as she sits back and cups her father’s cheeks, scans him from head to toe. "What the fuck is going on?"

"We have..." Hank pauses and clears his throat. "We have much to discuss, Posey."

"No shit." She scowls at him a little then looks at Janet and Henrich. "So start discussing."

He chuckles as Janet grabs a walker neither one of us noticed and Henrich helps Hank get to his feet. My beautiful Posey starts crying all over again so I pick her up and settle her on my lap, trying to soothe her as we watch her father walk, actually walk over to a chair that Janet unfolds next to us.

Today has been such an odd day.

Sometimes I wish I could have just been a simple man, a simple man born of human simplicity, but then again, life is much more interesting when things are complicated and never go according to plan.

Fuck.

.

Buried Truth

Iwatch as my father walks, fucking walks using his no longer paralyzed legs, with only the aid of a walker to a folding chair then turns, gives Janet a goddamn kiss on the fucking mouth and plants his old ass in the chair but not without catching a glimpse of something I've become rather familiar with the last five days.

My dad has fucking wings.

Not just any wings.

Nope, my dad has motherfucking dragon wings on his back as well as multiple markings on his arms and chest, though super light, just like Kai and his brothers.

"You're a fucking dragon?" I blurt through my tears—hurt, confused, overjoyed by this whole fucked up scenario. "A goddamn dragon? Really? And you were just what, gonna wait until I found my mate to drop that bomb on me?"

Dad scowls. "Watch your language, Josephine. I know this is gonna be a lot to take in but try to keep your cursing to a minimum."

God, his voice is just like I remember it, the slight Nordic accent and all. I never in a million years thought I'd hear it again.

Which is why I snap back. "Fuck off, old man. Just because you can use your words like a big boy now does not mean you get to scold me like a child."

"Josephine," Kai whispers behind me.

I turn and look at him over my shoulder. "You know what? You can fuck off too." Then I get to my feet and point at Henrich, who is sitting cross legged on the floor. "And so can you. I bet all four of you assholes knew my dad was a dragon and not one of you said a goddamn word. Fuck the whole lot of you." Janet winces and I immediately notice something different about her… about how she smells.

I breathe in deep, which is easy ’cause now I'm pissed and breathing heavy, and sort through everything I take in. Kai's spicy sweet combo is strongest and totally makes my pussy flutter but I ignore that shit and dig deeper. Henrich smells like leather and sandalwood, a touch of spice but not like Kai. My jerk-face father smells clean and calm, lavender and chamomile with a touch of his own spices. Janet though, she smells different. Nice, clean, floral, a little citrusy but… different.

"Oh my god, you're a shifter too."

She nods slowly and adopts a false sense of calm because I can hear her heart rate pick up. Which is fucking weird. I shouldn't be able to hear that at all.

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