Page 7 of The Sacred Wolf

My wolf’s hackles rose. Don’t fall for it now.

“Mind your tone, Cerys.” I straightened my spine but didn’t turn to face her because that would’ve left my back exposed to Kiana’s old apartment where anyone could be waiting to launch a surprise attack. “I still outrank you in any pack.”

The words left a sour taste in my mouth, but my sister’s helpmaid was accustomed to much worse. You would think she’d be the first to support a kinder, gentle regime change, but though Cerys bowed her head in grudging deference, her watchful eyes never left my face, which was the whole pointing of bowing in the first place.

“Our Alpha is out right now,” Cerys said as she lifted her head. “If you’ve come—”

“I’m only here to see my father,” I said, imitating the curt tone Sebastian used with everyone these days. “May I have the room?”

“He’s not well,” Cerys said.

“Imagine that.” I gave up on guarding my back and stalked toward her, suddenly wishing I’d worn a louder, more imposing pair of shoes than my squeaky sneakers. “Open the door, Cerys. I won’t take up much of his time.”

The helpmaid’s eyes swept over my silly shirt, and her nose wrinkled with disgust, but she did as she was told and opened the door. It swung inward so she stepped through before me and then made a dramatic show of ushering me into my own home.

The second I crossed the threshold, my throat constricted and every inch of my skin beaded with sweat. My wolf whined and circled in my too-tight chest, stamping her paws like she wanted to run. Even she knew this wasn’t our home. We had never felt safe here. We had always been alone.

Cerys shut the door, closing us in with an unpleasant fishy odor that did nothing to ease my wolf’s anxiety. A heavy darkness filled the empty room. All of my plants, decorations, and furniture had been removed; the only thing left from my life before was the portrait of my lucky, lovestruck parents at their mutually desired mateship ceremony. Above their waltzing human figures hovered the superimposed images of their wolves, and seeing not one but two vibrant, healthy versions of my mother made my eyeballs burn with hot wet anger. She could have survived.

“Cerys?” My father’s voice slipped through the cracked bedroom door, as thin as the single ray of light cutting across the carpet. “Back so soon?”

I didn’t wait for the helpmaid to lead the way. If she jumped me from behind, she’d be sorry. I didn’t stop to knock either, and the door, which was used to being thrown open by my sister, responded to the momentum of my push by flying back against the wall. The shell of a male resting in my old bed bolted upright with a strangled yelp, and I stumbled to a stop three feet away from him.

Cerys brushed past me and went to his side, attempting to push him gently back into a reclined position on his throne of pillows. Coughing, he shooed her away, and when she didn’t listen, he batted at her hands until she backed up with both of them raised. He coughed again, spattering tiny flecks of blood onto the balled fist he was using to cover his mouth. Cerys grabbed a glass of water off the nightstand and pushed the tip of the bendable straw against his chapped lips.

What is happening?

He smells all wrong.

He really did. The fishy odor was so strong in this room that I found myself searching the folds of his comforter for signs of a sushi takeout container rather than admit it was coming from him. My wolf whimpered and covered her nose with one paw, and it was all I could do to keep my hand from doing the same. When Father was done sipping his water like an old human in a nursing home, he allowed Cerys to help him lean back after all.

The pile of soft pillows engulfed his once powerful frame, and the arms he folded over the top of his bedding were little more than bones roped with vein. He’d seemed unusually under the weather for an Alpha shifter before all of this, but now… I scarcely recognized him with his sunken cheeks and sagging neck. I couldn’t stop thinking about when King Triton gets turned into one of those sad slimy squiggle creatures in The Little Mermaid.

It might explain the smell…

Father blinked up at me, and I could have sworn his normally bright blue irises had paled along with his hair, which had gone from dark golden blonde to drizzly sky gray since the night he walked away from me. His gaze dropped to my shirt, and he emitted a wheezing sigh before closing his eyes.

“Leave us, Cerys,” he ordered quietly.

Frowning, she placed his glass back on the nightstand but didn’t argue. I stepped aside so she could exit, and when both the bedroom and front doors had shut, I went to the spot she had just vacated. Bloody tissues littered the nightstand. It wasn’t unheard of for shifters to develop human health problems as they aged, but thanks to our accelerated healing powers, they rarely lasted more than a week or two.

Father opened his eyes but kept them fixed on the ceiling. “I’ve never known you at all, have I?”

“No,” I said. “But I’m wondering how much I ever knew you either.”

He grimaced. “I wonder the same about myself every day.”

“But we can’t really know, can we?” I folded myself into a childish hug. “How much he was controlling you.”

“No.” Father looked down at his skeletal hands. “It would be impossible to sort it all out. But without him around… there are a great many things I suddenly feel remorse for that I never even questioned before.”

“Like what?” I asked, unable to keep the challenge from my tone.

“Like not telling you girls more about your mother.”

I blinked. That was it? I mean, that was huge, but…

“Your sister has always been me all over again. Focused. Disciplined. Ambitious. Everything an Alpha is supposed to be. But you…” Father patted the side of the bed, inviting me to sit. “You are your mother in living color.”

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