Page 142 of The Delta's Rogue
“She’s not a nomad.” I whirl on King Malachi again. “Tell them. Tell them who she is.” I spin and face Sarina, an edge to my voice that’s as sharp as an executioner’s blade. “Tell them who you are. Tell them.”
My chest and shoulders heave more with every unsteady breath I take as Sarina and I stare each other down.
King Malachi’s voice breaks the silence. “She is Sara Anaís Goodrich Cisneros. She is my daughter, and she is the future queen.”
I feel the shift in the room as the pieces click into place for my friends, as her name unlocks their memories from our first and only visit to the palace, where we met her and her brother. Realization hits them one by one, and their eyes bore into the side of my face.
“Well, fuck,” Reid says. “What does that make Sebastian?”
“The future king,” King Malachi replies. “Sarina will be the alpha, but they will be the queen and the king.”
Future king.
My friends all speak at once, but the only thing I hear is that phrase over and over again. It repeats in my mind like a cursed mantra. It turns my skin inside out. Like sand flowing from the top half of an hourglass, it piles on me, burying me with the burden of each grain until I’m suffocating beneath the weight.
“I need some air.”
I whirl on my heel and rush to the door. Sarina follows me, her tear-filled voice calling my name and tearing an oozing, bleeding gash in my heart with her sorrow.
But I’m already sprinting through the trees, leaving the only thing I’ve ever wanted in a crumpled, sobbing heap on the front steps.
Peter’s large, extravagant homelooms in front of me as I trudge up the front path to the door.
I ran for as long as I could. I would have run more, but my legs refused to keep the grueling pace I set for myself any longer. My stomach begged me to give it sustenance, and my lycan refused to lend me his energy to fuel my marathon, so I had to return.
The entire time, I was keenly aware of the anchor keeping me tethered to this area of the mountains, keeping me from going too far away from her. Her anguish faded, only to be replaced by worry and regret, all sent to me with the force of a hurricane.
Maybe that means her lycan’s strength is returning.
Herlycan. How did I never realize before?
Because she never told me. She never shifted in front of me. She was careful not to, sending her pack mates with Levi, in their wolf forms, while she stayed with me so we could act as the intermediaries while we all hunted down Lennox. Her lycan and her aura stayed buried deep within her, hidden away by sheer will and a level of training I can’t begin to imagine.
Not that her aura would have worked on anyone anyway. She doesn’t hold a title yet. But an aura can still be felt. Perceived.
I should have noticed. I should have realized.
“He’s been gone for hours. I’m going after him.”
Wesley’s voice booms into my ears as I enter the house. Nolan and Reid stand in the foyer with him, and he whirls around to stare at me when he hears the door open.
“When did you get back?” I ask Nolan, bypassing eye contact with Wesley and ignoring the combination of irritation and worry etched into his face.
I was so caught up in myself before running out of the house that I can’t remember if Nolan and Cassandra were here to witness all of my outburst or not.
“We were here earlier.” He doesn’t say anything about my blowup—my hysterics—but based on the careful avoidance of mentioning it, I assume he saw it. “Rune, Landon, and Steele used the transport stone to get to our rental last night, and Rune disguised them as you, Dominic, and Sarina on our drive back.”
I nod and shut the door behind me, taking slow breaths to get more oxygen to my shaky leg muscles. They spasm and tremble from my lycan’s withholding of his energy and strength. His tantrum renders me all but human.
“She’s on the back patio with her dad,” Wes says as I head towards the living area.
Not that I need him to tell me that. I saw her there while I ran. I saw her standing with her arms crossed, resting on the railing and staring out towards the trees to watch for me.
I don’t mention what I saw. I just nod again and continue across the entryway, heading through the living room and into the kitchen for a snack and a glass of water.
Or maybe a shot of whiskey.
An exasperated, groaning sigh accompanies my departure, followed by Wesley’s heavy footsteps that practically chase me before they halt abruptly.
