Page 20 of Unforgivable

Ezra

"Maybe I should come with you," Rhet paces, glaring outside at the darkened sky.

I glance out myself. "The snow's supposed to hold off for a couple of hours, at least," I tell him.

"I'm not worried about the snow," he grumbles, kicking the snow tires on the truck.

"I get your concern, dude. I do, but we agreed that I was the best wolf for this." I'm not letting Rhet or Thjis do this. They're both too intimidating. Neither of them can hide their dominance and power. Hell, every time Rhet ropes up a runaway steer, I swear his wolf tries to bust out of his skin.

I've gotten so used to tamping down my feral beast in the last decade that it's old news to me.

He finishes kicking the tires that he pumped up just yesterday and steps back.

He and I are doing OK. This conversation is only a little stilted, and technically, it's all my fault. I was just so jealous when he took Lyri out riding with him. I know she's been through some shit. Hell, I was there, but I had this irrational fear that she would come back scenting of Rhet. It was a relief to know that all he did was hold her, maybe kiss her a little.

"Maybe we should buy her new shit," he says for the eleventh time.

"Let's see how she reacts to her stuff." I think she'll want the comfort of her own things. Maybe I'm wrong, but we don't have any clothes for her here. She's been wearing our shirts and panties that Thjis picked up from the pack's medical supplies that women wear after birthing pups. They're super stretchy nylon because, as Thjis told me, "baby's aren't the only ones who need diapers after all that." Now that Lyri's stopped bleeding, I can't imagine that those cheap-ass things are comfortable.

"Be careful. Come back if they get too riled up."

I pat him on the back before getting in the truck. "It'll be fine, bro."

He nods, stepping back to let me drive out of the garage where we keep all of the bigger equipment.

I head out to town, driving carefully along the road filled with potholes. I've made this drive so many times, but I'm not usually this nervous. When I hit the town and creep along the ice-slickened streets, I catch some of the pack staring at the truck curiously. I huff out a breath. I'm about to confirm the rumors that we have Lyri at the ranch.

I pull into the modest neighborhood of homes three minutes later. The beige and white split-level house looks buttoned up tight. Curtains are drawn. No cars. No decorations outside. The house is plain and simple.

I pull into the driveway and walk up to the front door. A curtain moves as I walk past it. So, someone's' home.

The white door swings open before I can knock. Immediately I see the same hazel eyes that my female has. These eyes are hard, glaring at me from a face that looks weathered and beaten. Faint traces of old, yellowed bruising decorates his cheekbone. Ted Song looks aged well beyond his years.

"I'm here to collect her things," I tell him.

"The pack didn't send you." He doesn't ask. His voice sounds like his throat has been dragged over a cheese grater.

"No," I keep it simple. This is as uncomfortable as I thought it would be. I'm waiting for this father-wolf to just start throwing punches.

To my shock, he nods and steps back. Those eyes that are so like his daughter's examine me as I step into the house. He's a big wolf, once a warrior for the pack. Relatively high up there in rank, too, if memory serves me. The bags under his eyes and the strain around his mouth tell me that the last month has been hell on him.

"Ted?" a woman comes out from what I assume is the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. She's shorter than Lyri, blond with shots of grey, light blue eyes. She looks very little like her daughter. Lyri got her hair and height from her dad.

When Tabitha sees me, she drops the towel, going white as a sheet.

"Is she here?" hope brims in her voice.

I shake my head, 'no,' as Ted says, "No, Tabby, I'm sorry." His voice is filled with an ache that catches my wolf's attention, his ears perking up.

Tabitha's face falls, and I can see the pain and sleeplessness that her mate has in his face echoed in hers. Their attitudes satisfy me, though. Maybe they care about their daughter, after all.

"Is she OK? How is she? You have her?" Tabitha moves toward me like one of the bulls, with a sudden surge of intensity. "Why are you here? Are you hurting my baby?" her voice becomes shrill.

"Tabitha!" Ted catches her shoulders and pulls her into his chest. I can hear her whimpering into his shirt. Shit. He turns to look at me. "He wouldn't be here if he was hurting our daughter." His eyes are silently asking me to confirm that Lyri's fine.

"Lyri is good," I say quickly, wincing as Tabitha dissolves into tears against her mate's chest. "She's recovering- ah- she's doing well... um... physically."

"My baby, my baby," Tabitha murmurs while Ted rubs her back, looking helpless. "Oh, goddess, she's alive, Ted. She's OK."

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