Page 25 of Wolf's Prize

Gaharet shook his head. “No, she is not. Of that, I am sure. Neither is her father. My father turned my mother, Kathryn’s aunt, when she became his wife. He made the decision to leave the rest of her family alone.”

“Farren is human,” Aimon confirmed, “but Kathryn is most definitely a werewolf. I caught her scent at Langeais and followed her to your keep, to make certain.”

Even here, a half day’s journey from the d’Louncrais keep, Kathryn’s spicy scent tugged at his awareness.

“You must be mistaken. You have had little experience with our females before they were all gone. The wolfsbane in the clearing could have confused your senses. Perhaps it has a prolonged effect.”

“As I thought, too, at first,” said Aimon. “But Gascon had his suspicions, and when I confronted Farren, he revealed the truth of it.”

“How is this possible?” Gaharet’s gaze darted about, his brow furrowing. “How did we not know? I do not recall the pack sanctioning her turning.”

Aimon took in a deep breath, releasing it on a long sigh. “This was not a turning, sanctioned or otherwise, Gaharet. Kathryn was attacked. She was but a decade and two years old.”

Gaharet recoiled. Attacking a child was not something the pack would take lightly. It crossed the unwritten laws of their kind, rules and traditions that had guided them for centuries.

“It gets worse.”

Gaharet raised his eyebrows, and Aimon squirmed beneath his direct stare. “How much worse could it get, Aimon?”

Aimon spun his mug around in his hands, avoiding Gaharet’s gaze. He had given Gaharet enough bad news, but this was personal. Aimon had never met Gaharet’s mother—she had died long before his turning—but he had heard of the close relationship she had had with her sons. From all accounts, her death had devastated Gaharet.

“Aimon, what is it?”

His mouth went dry. He took a large swallow of mead and placed his mug down on the table. “Her Aunt Elise…your mother…she died in the attack.”

Gaharet exploded from his seat, knocking it over, and rubbed his face with his hands. Erin stirred, moaning in her sleep, and Gaharet moved to sit by her side, brushing his hand across her forehead. Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled at him before slipping back into a deep sleep. For a moment Gaharet remained there, quiet, looking down at his mate.

“One of our own attacked my mother? Killed her?” His voice cracked. “Are you sure?” Gaharet turned to him, his jaw clenched and his expression bleak.

“I am so sorry, Gaharet.”

“My father always suspected something was amiss with the way she died, but…this!” He turned away from Aimon and focused on Erin, caressing her cheek. Her presence seemed to offer him comfort. “To be killed by one of our own. And to attack a child? Which one of us could have done that?” He stood and began to pace. “If Farren knew how my mother died, why did he not tell us? Why let us believe bandits killed her?”

“I guess he had his reasons—mistrust, fear he would lose his daughter. Right or wrong, he only wanted to protect her.”

Gaharet’s pacing came to an abrupt stop. “Farren must have trained her.”

Aimon pursed his lips. “No, not really. He taught her to suppress it.”

Gaharet snorted. “That is not possible. Our wolves are embedded in our psyche, linked to every thought and every emotion. It does not matter if you are born, turned or attacked, you simply cannot repress it. It is always there, clamoring to get out.” Gaharet righted his seat and resumed his place at the table.

“As I told Farren, but Kathryn’s control is phenomenal.Ido not have that level of control. Certainly not in the beginning. Not now. I have never seen anything like it. Not in any of the others. Not even in you. For someone who has hidden it and never called on it… And she has had no training at all.” He took another sip of mead. “But it all came undone the moment I revealed my wolf to her.”

“I am not surprised.”

“The poor woman believed herself cursed. I think, I hope, I have begun to convince her otherwise.”

“Where is Kathryn now?”

“I left her in the care of Anne and Gascon. I made them aware of our situation.”

“She will need training. We owe her that much.” Gaharet’s gaze slipped once more to his mate. “Erin’s training will start any day now. Perhaps… Perhaps I should train them both.”

“No!” Aimon burst out of his seat, growling, his canines extending and his jaw shifting. He leaned over Gaharet. A musky scent filled the room.

“Aimon! Control your wolf.”

Gaharet’s words slammed into him, the dominance of his alpha rolling over him.

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