Page 146 of The Delta's Rogue
I shove off the counter and exit the kitchen, heading straight to the boxes of pizza on the coffee table in the living room.
Food first. Then a shower, so I can clear my mind and organize my thoughts. My words. Once I know what I want to say and how I want to say it, I’ll talk to Sarina.
I snag an entire box, not bothering to see what type of pizza is inside, and turn to leave. I pause, though, my eyes catching on a plate piled high with homemade chocolate chip cookies. I smile, adjust my grip on the pizza box, and take three of the cookies.
Reid frowns at me and crosses his arms as I straighten.
“Why are you glaring at me?” I ask.
“Those cookies are for Sour Patch.”
I arch a brow and flick my eyes to the mile-high stack. “You made all these cookies for your ten-month-old?”
He grinds his teeth together and shifts his weight between his feet. “Okay, fine. One cookie is for her. The rest are for me.”
I grin in triumph, grab a fourth cookie, and head out of the room, our friends’ laughter trailing after me.
A phone buzzes, but I continue on my way. I have too much to do, too much to think about, to concern myself with anything happening with the others right now.
“Seb, wait!” Wesley yells.
I groan but stop in my tracks, and face him.
He holds the phone out to me. “It’s Forrest.”
I frown at the phone in response. “He called you?”
“He tried to call you a bunch of times, but you didn’t answer, so he called me.”
“I don’t know where my phone is.” I glance around the foyer, and then towards the guest rooms and the living room. “I left it at the rental house before we went to the auction last night. I don’t know if Nolan grabbed it or…”
Wes raises his brow at me and shakes the phone.
“Right. Sorry.”
I glance between the pizza box in one hand and the cookies in the other. Wes rolls his eyes and lifts the phone to my ear for me.
“Forrest? It’s Sebastian.”
“Oh, thank fuck.” Forrest sighs. “Some woman named Amara called the club. She said she needs to meet with you. Urgently.”
My elbows rest againstthe wooden deck’s railing as I stare out at the dense trees stretching as far as the eye can see. Sunlight peeks through the branches in soft shimmering rays, highlighting the flecks of dust floating through the forest and the tiny bugs flying in and out of the shadows.
It was this time of year when I left Crescent Lake four years ago—the time of year when it’s warm in the daytime but still cold at night. When it’s cool in the shade even when the sun is at its highest and the shuffling of baby animal feet fills the forest.
There are no animals today, though. Sebastian scared them all away as he ran his laps around the house.
A breeze dances through the branches. I cross my arms tighter against the subtle chill, but I stay in my spot, face tilted towards the sky and eyes scanning the scenery. The vast expanse of green trees and the climbing, rolling mountains both beckon me with their promise of freedom and escape.
I long to shift, to weave around the trunks and sprint up the hills. I yearn to feel the wind tangling my hair and the sun heating my skin. For too long, I’ve been trapped inside, bereft of my free will.
But there’s no stirring of my lycan. No hint of her existence. The mate bond flickers and teases my senses. My dad’s aura reaches for me and searches for mine. But it doesn’t wake my lycan. Neither the presence of my mate nor the arrival of my dad draws her forward.
I’m afraid of what that might mean.
“He’s back.”
I glance over my shoulder at my dad. He sits on a large, cushioned wicker couch. His elbows rest on his knees, and his eyes follow the path of someone in Peter’s house.
