Page 14 of Savage Prince

But I have a feeling, I’m not that kind of girl.

I’m the kind of stubborn creature who trusts her gut and follows her own star, even when it’s dangerous.

So, I don’t soar away along the shore, following the rocky coastline toward a village I glimpse in the distance. I reach the tree line, and circle back, watching Ford swim hard through the choppy waters, his gray head barely visible through the fog.

He’s almost the same color as the slate-colored ocean reflecting the gray, early morning sky. If you didn’t know to look for him, he’d be virtually impossible to spot. At least, I hope that’s true, because the dark blue boat behind him is closing in fast. And I’m pretty sure the old man with the broad shoulders and thick beard pacing the deck with a rifle in hand is my father. Hammer.

I have no memories of the man, but there’s a sense of recognition. Connection.

But it’s a cold, distant link, not the rush of love and gratitude I felt when Ford came bounding across the sand toward me. This man may have helped give me life, but he isn’t my friend. Or Ford’s. And if he spots the wolf in the water, he’ll shoot him. There’s no doubt in my mind.

I swoop a little lower, staying mostly above the cloud cover, but close enough that I can create a distraction, if needed.

Or put myself between Ford and my deadbeat dad. If I’m shot, I can flame out and rise from the ashes. Ford will just be gone, and I refuse to imagine Ford gone.

I’m not sure what he is to me—friend, family, or something more—but the thought of losing him feels like standing in the snow while the only home I’ve ever known burns to the ground. I’m not about to let a maniac with a gun take him away without a fight.

The man I’m almost positive is Hammer barks something toward the back of the boat and two more men emerge from the wheelhouse. They also have guns, but I don’t feel any sense of recognition when my gaze skims over their faces. Either I’ve never met them, or they didn’t mean enough to my old self to trigger a response.

I briefly wonder if it’s always like this when I go full burn—and how many times I’ve risen from the ashes before—but I’m soon distracted by two more players on the deck.

A large, muscled young man with a blond buzz cut guides a woman in handcuffs up the stairs leading down into the hold. Her hair is blond, as well, but a darker shade, streaked with gray. I instantly know she’s family, too, though I’m not sure how we’re connected. I don’t sense that she’s a threat to me or Ford, but I don’t necessarily feel protective of her, either.

Still, when Hammer slaps her across the face, I bristle, and flames lick at the tips of my wings. I may not feel a connection beyond the biological to this woman, but I don’t enjoy a bully. If Hammer’s going to strike a woman half his size, he should at least take the cuffs off first and give her the chance to fight back.

I tamp down the flare quickly, but it’s too late. I’ve already attracted the woman’s attention.

Her gaze flicks up to me for a fraction of a second before her gaze fixes on Hammer again. She doesn’t say a word to the men or look my way again.

I’m not sure that means she’s a friend, but at least she doesn’t seem to be an enemy.

Storing that bit of information away for later, I tilt my wings, allowing the next gust of air to carry me above the clouds and away from the small boat. I glide toward the trees, touching down in a small glen and shifting back into my human form before I jog toward the beach. I reach the sand just as Ford is shaking the water from his fur at the edge of the tree line.

When he’s done, he looks up and pulls in a breath, shifting as he exhales.

A moment later, a ridiculously beautiful man with silver eyes and a body a Greek god would kill for stands in front of me, and I’m suddenly absolutely positive that Ford and I are more than just good friends.

Or at least that I wouldn’t be at all upset if we were…

“Why am I not surprised that you did exactly as you damned well pleased?” he asks, his husky human voice a melody I could listen to a thousand times. His lips quirk in a half smile and I’m pretty sure I’d give up the throne I’m supposed to inherit to bask in a full-fledged grin.

I’m being ridiculous—I have way more important things to worry about than a cute boy—but I can’t seem to help it. Just looking at Ford is enough to fill my blood with sunshine.

My cheeks heat as I say, “I’m guessing you probably know me better than I know myself right now. Fair guess?”

“Maybe.” Sadness creeps into his expression, banishing that ghost of a grin. He nods toward the woods behind me. “Let’s find a place to lie low for a while and find out.”

I fall in beside him as he starts through the woods. “And I’ll tell you about the people I saw on the boat while we walk.”

He grunts. “I heard it coming. Thank God for the fog or I would have been spotted for sure.”

“And that would have been bad,” I agree. “There was a big, bearded guy on the deck, and he was armed.”

Ford’s eyes narrow. “Hammer. Your dad.”

“That’s what I thought,” I say. “I don’t have any memories of him, but I felt a connection. It was him, two other armed men, a beefy young guy with a short blond buzz cut, and a blond woman in handcuffs, who Hammer didn’t seem to like very much.”

I relate the rest of what I saw—the slap and the way the woman noticed me but didn’t alert the others—and Ford’s energy darkens even further.

---