Page 115 of Untamed

"Willa?" Older Alpha draws my attention back to him. I get thisfeelingfrom this male. He wants to snatch my Mama from my arms. Sheatefrom his hand.Fromhishand.

I narrow my eyes at him.

He doesn't flinch at the warning. Even his eyes don't harden on me. He looks at me steadily, none of the wariness I see in all the other wolves. Other than this old alpha, Mactiir and Mama are the only ones who don't look at me withtrepidation; fear, apprehension, dread.

"Why did Mactiir's father not want my Mama?" I shoot out the question angrily. Snapping my teeth at Old Alpha. My ire directed at this male who can take a little rage, I suppose.

"He was already choice-mated when your Mama was taken," the Old Alpha replies calmly. "If I'm right, Inuit was at least two or three when Snow was kidnapped."

I wrinkle my nose at his name for my Mama.Snow, because her skin is so pale? I don't like the name. I don't like having anything in common with this male, especially making up names. That's what I do. He's trying to take my Mama from me; I just know it. He fed her, and she took the food from him. Even now, she's chewing the food, content with this... thisstrangerfeeding her.

I growl softly at him. He doesn't move, doesn't blink, doesn't shift on his feet away from me. His wolf is old. Older than Father by years and years, at least. He's trying to steal my Mama away.

"Why did he do that?" I ask him.

Old Alpha spreads his hands out to his sides. "I don't know, little one. I have no idea if Kingson was truly Snow's mate or if your father lied."

"Father wasn't a liar," I respond. It's true, as far as I can tell. He was a terrible shadow in my life, but he wasn't a liar.

"How would you know that?" Old Alpha watches me steadily.

I flash fang at him again. My she-wolf's fur rises, her muscles twitching in agitation. I don't have a good answer, so I throw a question back at him, "why would he lie?"

"To control your Mama," he says. "To make it seem as if they had to keep you hidden away."

Mama is very still behind me. I want to look at her, to reassure her. It must be painful to hear this. "Why would I have to be hidden away?" I ask him.

"Because your Mama is the only surviving child of the former Alpha and Luna of the FeraxMaw, sweetheart. That makes you their heir, little one."

Mama lets out a tiny sob.

Sympathy coats Old Alpha's face. "I'm sorry, Dove," he croons softly. "Your parents were killed by your cousin, Harrigan, just months after you disappeared."

Mama holds me tighter. "I know this. Thomson told me. He said that Kingson's pack was looking for us. He said that he would kill Willa for being the enemy's alphadaughter and for being my child because he would be jealous. And we couldn't go back to the FeraxMaw. Not with Harrigan in charge.Will you tell me now that it isn't true? That Kingson Adlartok was not trying to kill us both?"

I watch the Old Alpha as he thinks. "I can't tell you, either way, Dove. I don't have enough information."

He looks at me. "Mates are a sacred thing, little one. If Kingson rejected your Mama, then it is a terrible crime."

"No, my Pa wouldn't reject his mate," the forceful words punch through the air.

Old Alpha stands, his shoulders held tightly. He and Mactiir eye each other up, both males too large, too stinky with male-ness.

"Mama, what's a good word for them?" I fall into the game Mama and I used to play all the time. A comforting pup's game.

"That'stestosterone, sweetpea, remember?" she whispers to me.

Testosterone; a male thing that has to do with sex and knobby sticks. Hmm.

"Stop it, Mactiir. My father wasn't a liar." I stand up on wobbly legs so that I can glare into his stupid walnut eyes. "Maybe yours was."

He growls, stepping toward me, but Old Alpha intercepts him. Mactiir immediately looks shaken. "I wouldn't ever hurt her," he protests to Old Alpha, sounding shocked at the very idea.

Old Alpha looks abashed as he stops posturing protectively. "She's insulting your Father. I have to make sure. There's been a lot of shit today, In. I get it," he finishes softly.

"And? He's dead," Mactiir says bluntly. "We'll figure this shit out. Later. Not now."

A small smile curls at Old Alpha's lips. "You sound like an Alpha, In."

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