Page 69 of Enemy Wolf

He downed the whole thing in a few gulps before setting it aside. Before I could ask anything else, he blurted out, “My mother was a feral wolf who didn’t know about our conflict with the vampires or that the dragons sided with them. She was isolated from all that.”

My mouth opened. Shut. Then opened again as I said, “Okay.”

“She ran into my father, a dragon shifter, during her pack’s regular nomadic traveling before the borders were established. Her pack often went to the desert regions during the cold seasons. She mated with my father and decided to leave the pack to be with him.”

“Orson, you don’t have to—”

“Yes I do,” he insisted, eyes sharp on my face, his jaw set tight. “Please just let me get this out, Shiloh.”

At my hesitant nod, he kept going.

“The minute he got her isolated from her pack, he became abusive toward her. She also didn’t know that he had another mate, a dragon like him, and already had a son with her.”

As Orson told me his mother’s story, the words came out of him in sharp, angry punches. It was almost like he’d been dying to tell this to someone for years but the habit of keeping his secret hidden created resistance for him.

“My mother felt trapped, especially after finding out she was pregnant with me. When she had me, she pretty much raised me on her own. My father spent most of his time with his real family. When he did come by, he brought Mokir along to play with me, so he said. But he only ever came over to fight with my mother, and my half-brother took the opportunity to abuse me.”

“Orson,” I breathed, reaching for his hand on top of the blanket. “I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t seem to notice the touch but carried on with his story. “When my shifter traits started presenting, I only showed wolf features. My dad warned my mother that if my animal wasn’t a dragon, I was worthless and we’d be kicked out of ‘his’ territory.” Orson let out a light scoff at the memory. “I had my first full shift a few years later, and sure enough, I was all wolf. Not a scale or dragon wing on me.”

“So he made you leave?” I squeezed his hand and got a light squeeze in return.

“Yeah. Flew us over and dropped us in the middle of the wilderness. I was still pretty bouncy then, but Mom broke her leg from that fall.”

“Fuck, that’s so cruel.”

“We found one of the feral packs, but by then, word had reached them that the dragons aligned themselves with our enemies and that my mom had gone off with one of them. So, we weren’t exactly welcomed with open arms.”

“That’s terrible. She didn’t know, she was a victim.”

“One male took pity on her or something, I dunno.” Orson sighed, looking exhausted. “They weren’t in love or anything, but they mated with an arrangement in place. She would get his protection, he would get a pup of his own. Only that didn’t work out, because that pup was born defective.”

“Your sister that can’t shift?”

“Yeah. She was the one that found me out there, stitched me up to the best of her ability after I thought that dragon had ended me.”

“You thought?” I repeated. “So the dragon is…?”

“Dead,” he confirmed with a solemn nod. “You’ll never have to see his scaly face again.”

I brought an arm forward, showing that the mark had disappeared. “I knew it.”

The first twitches of a smile played on Orson’s lips, but his overall expression remained remote. “No trace of him left. I’m glad.”

I scooted closer, releasing his hand to run a caress up his arm. “It’s such a relief he’s gone, but I hate that we nearly lost you. Why didn’t you say anything to the pack?”

“Because it’s my duty to protect my mate.”

My heart went wild at the conviction in his voice, how quickly he’d given that answer, like it was the simplest, most obvious one in the world. “Orson—”

“Wait, don’t say anything yet. I have more to tell you.”

“Okay.” I settled back against his pillows, keeping my hand on his arm. I never wanted to stop touching him.

“I came to Howling Death about ten years ago, after running into Tryn,” he went on, focusing on a random spot on the blanket. “He saw how clearly I didn’t get along with the feral pack and said I would belong here. It’s been a struggle for me, learning the ways of a pack that’s not feral, but I did feel like I belonged here more than anywhere else.”

“Did?” The past tense use of the word scared me.

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