Page 54 of Wulver's Flame
He didn’t look at me. Just dropped the words with all the weight of the gods.
“Your father is on his way here.”
I froze.
Myda was coming here?
I glanced up at Vargr and winced.
I’d let him knot me all night—and most of the day.
He wasn’t entirely human.
Shame flooded my chest like a cold tide, and I turned away from him.
“Yes. I shall—oh, where is my lavender dress?” I rambled, flustered at the thought of my da somehow finding out about his beast.
I barely got to my feet before the beast inside him rumbled a warning growl.
The centre of my chest burned from the weight of his anger.
“You are ashamed of me.” He accused me with barely restrained anger.
“No—Gods, no! It’s just…he’s my father. And I’m still…full of…you know what.”
My voice cracked. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.
My chest, neck, and face would be bright crimson by now.
Why did I have to be born so fair-skinned?
The door slammed shut, and I flinched.
I didn’t know whose heart I’d just wounded—his, or his beast’s.
I shook it off and scrambled to clean myself up as best I could.
Praying the Gods had sent Naillan with my Da. After our mother didn’t survive his birthing, I stepped into her place. He was more than a brother. He was the only soul I longed to protect. As angry as I was with my Da, I needed to see someone who knew me before all this.
???
Once I had donned my best dress, belt, and cloak, I fastened it with my mother’s pin. I got my da’s flaming hair and his temper to go with it, but it was her I missed now. I wondered what advice she might have given me, had she lived. No one could change my da’s mind once it was set, but she’d had a gentler way.
I checked my braids and winced when my fingers brushed through something stiff—some of his seed-surge still clung to me. This was how I would meet my kin with a cloth tucked between my thighs and my hair caked in the beast’s release.
The door opened, and Vargr stood in the frame. His face was stone. He wore a blue tunic belted at the waist, sword strapped at his hip. I chewed my lip at the sight of his blade, not just because of what it could do, but because he wouldn’t meet my eye.
“Are you ready?” he asked flatly, striding past me to collect his fur mantle from the peg.
“Yes,” I said, quieter than I meant to.
I had half hoped that he might look at me and approve of my dress.
Why did I care if he noticed? Why did I want him to?
“Good. They are nearly here.”
He was out the door before I could say anything else.
