Page 60 of His Curse

As soon as I was back in Oregon, I pulled everything I could on the lab, every article ever written and cross referenced the year it was created with missing persons reports. Not that any of those reports were going to list them as shifters or whatever, but theotherhas given me the ability to figure out if someone is human or not by looking at them, with or without being face to face, and that is deadly accurate when I am in person.

It's similar to the way Posey can differentiate, but not the same.

The queen can look at someone, smell them near or far, and she can tell you what species and type someone is—or isn’t, like with Cora—and Posey is accurate enough to figure out specifics, like what color spots someone has when they shift or which type of bear they might be. She even knew my eyes change shades when I’mmywolf. I, on the other hand, can scent the generalized species—like, shifter, vampire, etc—but not the details like she can, and it's somehow strong enough to do so from a photograph. It’s how we were able to find any of the packs we joined after our original one because shifters are secretive as fuck.

A funparlor trickas Mama used to call it.

So, with the help of Hank and Will, I pulled missing person reports for Wyoming and the surrounding states and found only one shifter the year Kentworth Labs opened its doors.

Henry Clearwater.

This, of course, spurred my search further, and eventually I became obsessed with the lab that I couldn't pinpoint and the way it seemed to drop off the radar while people still went missing.

I honestly don't know why I became so obsessed with it. I always figured it was just something to fill the void of losing Lark, to make me feel better about how much of a piece of shit I am by trying to help others, but knowing now that my mate was kept in the place I've been tracking for years confirmssheis the reason for it. And the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve started to believe that my nightmares—my new nightmares—are directly related to my Birdie and her time at that fucking lab.

"You, my dear wolf, could wake the dead with your insufferable pacing,” Zan grunts as he walks out the front door in his boxers—something Frankie insists on when he isn’t inside their house— with two cups of coffee in hand.

I take mine with a nod of thanks then sigh. "Sorry."

"You are not.” He sips his piping hot creamer with a splash of coffee and closes his eyes for a second. "You are anxious and unsettled. Worried. Conflicted. You are lovesick and a touch hopeful, but one thing is for sure: sorry you are not."

"Is she up?"

Zan nods and opens his eyes slowly as he takes another drink. "If you refer to your Lark, then yes, she is up. If you're asking aftermymate, no. Frankie slept terribly last night, barely slept at all, to be honest, and only now rests."

I frown. "Is Frank feeling ok?"

He rolls his eyes. "Her physical health is fine, but she is emotionally distraught. My mate is fucking pissed at you and heartbroken for Lark. It took much effort to prevent her from marching to your cabin in the middle of the night just so she could take your chainsaw to it."

"I know. Gods, I fucking know. I'm an asshole, I suck, and I definitely need to figure out what the fuck I'm doing or else I'm going to end up hurting Lark again."

"And if you do that, you are also at risk of being skinned alive by my darling girl and sweet sister. They seem to have taken to your mate instantly."

Well, that doesn't help one goddamn thing.

Ronny has already sent me four texts this morning, all insults followed by a big fatfix this shit, so I know he connected with Lark right away.

Havok did too since he shares her experiences with searching for their mate and seeking vengeance for loved ones, something that really only the two of them can understand, and it apparently made him overprotective of her.

And, of course, Zan likes Lark because he's a shithead and her story impressed him, but also because he’s just as much mine as she is, so of course he'd like my mate. We’re basically all fucking bound to each other at this point so I’m definitely on everyone’s shit list.

Plus, Zan likes being able to call me a hypocrite after my speech in the kitchen last year, so there's that too. Nothing like a good old-fashionedpot calling the kettleremark every chance he gets.

Now, knowing that Frankie feels those connections, and Cora clearly likes Lark a hell of a lot too, well, that complicates damn near everything and it also means every last fucker in the core clan is going to love my mate as well. And I'll probably spend the rest of my life getting shit on by all of them if I don't figure out how to handle this crap.

Something I have no clue how to do because there isn't enough groveling in the world that will make up for what I did to Lark, both physically and emotionally, and that's if she even understands why I initially rejected her.

At the end of the day, I still fucking hurt her in multiple ways, and that won't magically go away just because I tell her I love her more than anything, that I’m so goddamn glad she's here before I renege my rejection then beg for her forgiveness and love.

Huh.

I guess I do have a plan.

An unrealistic plan, an almost impossible plan, but that's more than I started with a few hours ago.

"Why are you so early?" Zan sighs, pulling me from my thoughts as he sits on his front step. "I thought the agreed upon time was eight o'clock?"

I nod and drop down beside him. "It was, still is, but I've been up for hours. I didn't go to sleep, actually, and was too restless to sit at home and wait."

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