Series: Star Moon Pack Series by J.L. Beck
Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 118781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
If I didn’t know better, I would think he’s disappointed he didn’t get the chance to kill me—hell, I know he is. I can’t even blame him for it. If anything, I respect him. I would do the same thing if anyone tried to keep her from me.
“See? Now we’re all on the same page again. And my father’s going to go home, and he’s going to tell our alpha that I’m fine and that we’re still all working together. Especially now that the witches staged another attack.”
And her pack rejected her. They beat and abused her, neglected her, and treated her like she was nothing. Yet here she is, cool under pressure, self-possessed, knowing exactly what to say to diffuse tensions and manipulate—yes, that’s the word for it—my father into backing down before he makes a grave mistake. This is a wolf who needs to stand at the head of a pack, at the side of the alpha. Her wisdom, poise, and intelligence fill me with awe.
I need her. Alone. Now.
And before I can so much as touch her, my mother enters the room after a brief knock at the door. “I heard you were awake.” She’s beaming as she approaches with her hands outstretched. “I imagine you’d want to shower and have a good meal.”
No, damn it, I need time with her. Alone. I least need to check in with her and make sure she knows what she’s doing. Does she realize what she said? What it means? She’s damn lucky nobody asked her to prove it, the fact that she marked me. And so am I.
Forrest ushers Benedict out, which is for the best. Not only does he need to leave, but I shouldn’t be the one to show him out. It’s one thing for him to stand down in front of his daughter, but now that my mother is practically dragging her to the stairs, that barrier is gone. I slip out of the room before Dad can lay into me with questions I don’t feel like answering. The less time I spend with him one-on-one, the better, at least until I settle things with Lili. Eventually, we’re going to have to prove what she said is true.
In the meantime, I take a much-needed shower. I hardly left her side, unwilling to step out even to eat, at which point Mom made sure to bring food down for me. I only ate to appease her. Nothing mattered more than the still, silent body in the bed.
The hot water revives me, and I feel considerably more like myself once I step out. This time as I towel off, there are no sirens. I’m able to get dressed in peace, leaving my hair wet and running my fingers through it to comb it back as I step out into the hall.
She’s up here, still. I smell her and follow her scent to one of the spare rooms at the other end of the hall. I don’t have to listen hard to hear my mother in there, her voice warm and full of compassion and concern. My heart swells, and I wonder if this isn’t all overwhelming for Lili. How many times has she had someone fawning over her the way Mom is?
Is this who I am now? Pacing back and forth in front of the door, waiting for them to emerge. It’s pathetic. I don’t wait for things to happen; I make them happen. So why can’t I make myself move? I should be in there with her, helping her. This should be my responsibility.
When the door opens, I step up in front of it, prepared to go inside. “Absolutely not,” Mom orders, shaking her head firmly. “She needs to rest.”
“She’s been resting for three days.”
“She needs more rest. I know you’re eager to be with her,” she continues in her motherly way when I growl, “but there’s a good chance she shouldn’t have gotten out of bed when she did. She’s still weak. We don’t want to push her too hard and cause a relapse.”
I think she’s being overly cautious, but then again, I don’t want to take any chances here, either. “It’s not like I’m going to make her run laps around the room. I only want to talk to her.”
“Then you can talk to her later. At dinner.”
At dinner? There are hours to go until dinner.
Something tells me I’m not getting around her. And when my father calls me from downstairs, his voice echoing until it doubles and triples on itself on the way up the stairs, it’s clear I’m not going to get my way. “Fine. So long as you’ll let her come to dinner.”
“Of course. She needs her strength.”
And something tells me I’ll need my strength to deal with Dad. I look over her shoulder one last time before turning on my heel and heading for the stairs. At least I’ll have something to keep me busy.