Page 47 of My Fugitive Wolf
"Do you want us to get you something gentler?" Leo asked. "Saltines? Ginger ale?"
How could an omega wolf trained for war have such a sweet side? "No, I'm feeling better. Just had a bad moment."
"We understand," Stephen said softly.
Samara nodded and headed for the kitchen. This time she decided to toast her bagel first. Waiting for the toaster, she could half listen to what the others were talking about. Kellen's baritone rose and fell like music notes when he had something to say. Emotions suck. Love sucks. While she smeared the cream cheese, she fell into a bathtub of self-pity.
The phone Kellen had given her sat on the counter, the charging light mocking her. Before all of this had happened to her, she would have called someone about her problems. Her grandfather would have been at the top of the list. How could he do this to her? Instead of arming her with the knowledge of what she truly was, he gave her a knife. And a gun. And lessons about how to protect herself. Her grandfather had kept her ignorant just as he had with her father. He must have thought it was for the best, but she couldn’t understand why. Not yet. All she could do was pray that there was a scrap of paper hidden somewhere that would explain why he’d done this to her and her family, but would it ever be enough to make up for the complete loss of her real self?
She poured herself a fresh cup of coffee, grabbed the plate with the bagel, and headed back. "What did I miss?"
Kellen had his head buried in another scrapbook reading.
Stephen looked up and caught her gaze. "From what you told Kellen, Josiah would knock you out every other day or so, and you would wake up wounded one way or another."
Just thinking about it made her stomach churn, but this time the bagel stayed where it was supposed to. "Yeah, pretty much."
"And the first time you woke up, you had bite marks all over you, correct?"
She nodded but shoved the bagel in her mouth to cover for the fact that she'd lost her voice again.
"Okay, so this one didn't work." Stephen picked up one of the spells with the receipts and set it aside. "What about puncture wounds in your veins?" Stephen asked.
"Like someone inserted an IV," Leo added.
Samara forced the bit of bagel she had in her mouth down her throat with a swig of hot coffee. "More than once."
Stephen leaned forward to remove more paper from the floor. "So, this one, this one, and this one didn't work either. What about blood? Did you have any bouts of coughing up blood?"
Where were they going with this? "Not blood. It didn't taste like iron, but it had a gritty feel to it and when I spat, the saliva was red. Why does any of this matter?"
"They're trying to figure out what spell Josiah used to break the spell your grandfather used to suppress your wolf shadow," Grace said, her eyes on the papers left on the floor after Stephen removed two more. "One of the three left has to be the one because you weren't in the cage long enough for him to keep experimenting with spells and not screw up by having the effects overlap."
“Grace, would you hand me the last three spells, please? I don't need the receipts." Kellen asked.
Grace gathered the papers and reached across Samara to hand them to him.
Expression neutral, Kellen examined the papers one by one. He checked the notebook he'd been reading, then returned to look at the spells again, shuffling the order.
"Stephen, is there a spell for forced immobilization and another for forced compliance?”
"Let me check." He ruffled through the spells he'd already removed from the floor. "Yes, both. Here you go."
Kellen grabbed the extra two papers, then returned to the notebook. After a minute he pulled back from the papers, his face dark. "These spells tell a story. Samara, would you hand me the pictures from your box?"
Again, she was careful not to touch him when she handed him the pictures. She gave him not just the old ones, but the more modern ones too. He didn't even try to meet her eyes. He looked at each of the pictures, changing their order on the sofa cushion between them.
Kellen looked up from the pictures to focus on Samara, reaching for her, as if he wanted to protect her from his own words. Despite their argument, she let him wrap his hand around hers. Whatever he was about to say was going to hurt.
Seemingly at a loss for words, Kellen cleared his throat and lowered his voice. "I know why Josiah is chasing you."
Just keep breathing. You survived the cage, you survived captivity. You can survive this.
Keeping her secure in his grip, he used his other hand to put down the most recent set of notes, written on a modern school lined notebook. "These notes are more like a diary. Josiah arrived out west in the early 19th century posing as a fur trader, then a missionary, then a gold prospector, but those jobs were just to give him cover. He was looking for your grandfather who'd traveled to America before it became the United States."
"From where?" Her grandfather had never mentioned where the family had come from, and her father had no interest, so neither had she.
Kellen shook his head. "I don't see where he says that, but I'm skimming, not reading. Once Josiah tracked down your grandfather, they became acquainted. Of course, your grandfather knew Josiah was a rogue wolf shifter but ignored him instead of challenging him over territory. Take a look at some of these tintypes."
