Page 22

After dinner, Tala had shown Faith around the first floor, so they were the last ones to head upstairs.

The rest of the house was mostly quiet—or Tala at least guessed it would seem like that to Faith’s human ears.

Tala could hear her parents whispering to each other in her father’s office, their voices tinged with worry.

Of course they were concerned. What if her grandmother made a scene like that tomorrow, during the feast with Mirella’s pack or at the yasi makamar ritual?

Others might back her up. Rey and Uncle Arnold for sure would, and they might sway others who disliked humans too.

To be honest, Tala had been one of them not long ago. She still didn’t trust most humans. But Faith didn’t deserve to be treated like that.

Tala wouldn’t have been able to explain why not—after all, Faith might still be spying for her father.

But maybe Jorie and Madsen were right and getting Faith on their side was essential for the Wrasa’s future somehow. Tala hoped she was well on her way to succeeding.

When the door to Tala’s room clicked shut behind them, Faith paced back and forth between the bed and the ottoman. “Oh God, what do we do? Your grandmother could smell it! She knows our mate scent isn’t—”

Quickly, Tala blocked her path and pressed her index finger to Faith’s lips to silence her. “Shh,” she whispered. “Lower your voice. There are very sharp ears everywhere.”

Faith’s pupils flared wide.

Had Tala scared her with the mention of sharp ears listening to their every word if they spoke too loudly?

Then she realized that Faith was nearly going cross-eyed, staring down at the finger on her lips.

Oh. She hastily pulled her hand away. “I’m not sure Grandma really could smell the truth,” she said in a low whisper. “I have a feeling she would think our mate scent was off even if it was real, just because she hates the thought of her granddaughter with someone like you.”

“Someone like me,” Faith repeated quietly. Her brown eyes, which had sparkled with mirth when they had laughed about the berry crumble, were now filled with sadness. “What’s so horrible about me? She didn’t seem to care that your uncle Seth is gay, so it’s not that I’m a woman, is it?”

“She has no problem with you being a woman. Wrasa being homophobic wouldn’t make any sense because a quarter of us are gay or bi.”

“A quarter!” Faith let out a low whistle. “But then again, homophobia makes no sense at any percentage.”

“True,” Tala said. “But my kind actually thinks being gay can be good. It makes our packs stronger because, traditionally, many queer Wrasa didn’t have pups of their own but helped raise their siblings’ young ones, increasing the chance that the pack’s genes would survive.”

“So her reaction was about me being human.”

It was a statement, not a question, yet Tala nodded anyway. “She’s got her reasons. When she was young, her favorite cousin was killed by a human hunter, and Grandma felt as if she wasn’t even allowed to be angry.”

Faith went pale. “Killed? My God! Why wouldn’t she be allowed to be angry about that?”

“Because our laws said if one of us was killed by a human while in animal form, it was to be considered an accident. It was the price we had to pay for keeping our existence hidden. We were supposed to shrug it off and keep going.”

Faith pressed both hands to her mouth for a moment. “That’s terrible. I can’t even imagine how devastating that must have been for her. For all of you.”

Having Faith acknowledge what her kind had been through felt unexpectedly good. “Yeah. But unfortunately, that’s not the only tragedy in our family that revolves around humans. It was really hard on Grandma—on all of us—when we had to watch helplessly as Rey lost his arm.”

Faith’s hands flew to her mouth again. “He lost it because of a human?”

“Not a human—humans in general.”

Faith tilted her head to one side as if trying to make sense of what Tala had said.

Tala hesitated. She had never told this story to anyone who wasn’t part of the pack. If anyone had predicted she would ever consider telling a human, she would have laughed. But Uncle Arnold, Rey, and their grandmother would probably continue to treat Faith like shit, and Faith at least deserved to know why. “When Rey and I were little, we were inseparable. I was small for my age, so even though he’s almost two years younger, he always acted like my protector—as if he were the big brother.”

“And you resented it,” Faith said.

“Passionately. It made me work harder to prove that I was tougher, faster, and smarter and didn’t need his protection…which in turn made him shadow me even more closely so he could watch over me.”

“Not a healthy dynamic,” Faith murmured.

Tala sighed. “No. It’s a wonder we both survived to adulthood. Although Rey nearly didn’t.”

Faith gently urged her to sit on the edge of the bed and took a seat next to her. “What happened?”

“When I was nine, I climbed a tree. Of course, Rey followed me, warning me repeatedly that I would fall. Well, I didn’t.” Tala squeezed her eyes shut, but that didn’t stop the memories from flashing through her mind. “He did.”

Faith’s fingers dug into her thigh.

Tala opened her eyes and stared down at them. Why didn’t the touch feel invasive, like something she wanted to brush off?

Finally, Faith snatched her hand away. Her cheeks flushed. “Sorry. What happened?”

“He landed badly.” Tala tried to relay it matter-of-factly, but she couldn’t stop her voice from becoming hoarser with every word. “The skin at his elbow was torn open, and a jagged fragment of bone was jutting out. I raced home to get my parents, but without a doctor nearby, there wasn’t much they could do.”

Faith’s face had gone pale. “What do you mean? There must have been doctors around, even in Silver Falls.”

“Yeah. Human doctors. But we couldn’t go to one of them. They would have immediately discovered that there’s something very off about Rey. They would have figured out eventually that he’s not human.” She shuddered at the thought of the tests they might have run on her brother and what would have happened afterward. “We couldn’t risk that.”

“Why couldn’t he just shift and heal himself?” Faith asked. “I don’t know if it’s true, but I read somewhere that shifting accelerates the healing process.”

“It is true. But Rey was too young back then. Our pups can’t shift before they reach puberty. That’s when the mutaline—the hormone that controls shifting—kicks in.” Tala surprised herself by revealing that information without any hesitation. But Faith was a mother, and Tala knew instinctively that she would never do anything to harm a Wrasa child. “So my parents had only one option: to take Rey to a Wrasa physician. But back then, there wasn’t a single doctor trained in Wrasa medicine in all of northern Virginia. By the time they found one, the bone had gotten infected. To stop the infection from spreading to the rest of his body, they had to amputate his arm.”

Faith sucked in a strangled breath. Tears glistened in her eyes. “Tala, that’s horrible! I’m so sorry! I can’t imagine having to watch Chloe suffer like that and not being able to help her.”

“I won’t lie. It was horrible,” Tala said quietly. “It affected the entire pack.”

“It’s why Arlyn studied Wrasa medicine, isn’t it?”

Tala nodded. “And why she returned to live with the pack. She wanted to spare other family members from going through what Rey did.”

Faith’s gaze darted left and right as if she was connecting all the dots. “And because there are so few Wrasa physicians, she’s got a special status.”

“Yeah. Each of us siblings managed to do something to increase the power of the pack—Arlyn became a doctor; I joined the Saru; Kiera is an artist working in publishing and trying to keep our Old Language alive, and Felix is studying to follow in Arlyn’s footsteps. Just Rey couldn’t contribute because of his arm. At least that’s how he felt. I tried to help him afterward, but that only made him feel weak. Now suddenly he was the one who felt he had to prove himself all the time.” Truth be told, they both did, and that had ruined their relationship.

Faith put her hand on top of Tala’s, which gripped the edge of the bed. “I’m really sorry.”

Tala glanced down at Faith’s hand on her own. Faith’s attempt to comfort her should have felt strange, maybe even unwanted since Tala had never thought she needed such a thing—especially not from a human—but the coolness of Faith’s fingers was soothing.

“Anyway…” Tala straightened her shoulders but left her hand where it was. “That’s why my grandmother can’t stand humans. I think deep down, she feels guilty because she convinced my grandfather to build a house up here, in a secluded area, far away from humans. Unfortunately, that also meant far away from the nearest Wrasa healer. Ever since then, she has hated humans even more.”

“And now a human invades her sanctuary—as her granddaughter’s mate.”

Tala was surprised to see understanding and compassion written all over Faith’s face. What surprised her even more, though, was that she had told Faith all of that. “Yeah. I should have expected her to walk out.”

“Do you think your grandmother and Arnold will be back?” Faith asked.

“Back?” Tala shook her head. “They didn’t go anywhere—just to the in-law suite in the basement. That’s where my grandmother lives as the matriarch of the pack.”

Faith nibbled her lip. “Matriarch. So that means she’s got influence in the pack. Is my being here…everyone thinking we’re engaged…is it making things harder for you? Is it endangering your chances of becoming natak?”

Again, honest concern seemed to darken her eyes. Did she really care about Tala’s future?

Because of the perfume, Tala’s nose was useless and didn’t allow her to confirm it, but she found herself believing it was real.

Great Hunter, what was happening to her? She had always been a solitary tracker who barely trusted anyone and preferred to work alone. And now she naively believed in a human—in Peter MacAllister’s daughter of all people?

She was too tired to think about it. Maybe by tomorrow morning, she would be back to being her skeptical self.

“Don’t worry. The only relationship diminishing my chances of becoming natak is Rey’s, not ours. Um, our scheme, I mean.”

“How so?” Faith asked.

“A natak is only ever as strong as their mate. Mirella is a Saru and the offspring of one of the oldest Wrasa families in the area. Some members of my pack really like the idea of her and Rey taking over as the alpha pair. But if we”—Tala gestured between them with her free hand—“can pull this off and contribute to peace between our species, I might gain their respect.”

Faith gave her a skeptical look. “Are you sure? Some didn’t seem like big fans of humans.”

“The younger generations are starting to see things differently. As much as people like my grandmother want to cling to hating and distrusting humans, most of us know there’s no future for that. Now that we’re out to the human public, we have to learn to coexist, or we’re doomed.” Tala had struggled to reach that insight, but by now, she realized it was true. She pulled her hand from beneath Faith’s, patted it once, then stood. “Come on. Let’s go to bed. It was a long day, and tomorrow will be just as busy. Want the bathroom first?”

“Yes, thanks.”

Fifteen minutes later, once Tala had taken her turn and stepped out of the bathroom, she found Faith sitting up in bed, the covers pulled up around her waist and her phone pressed to her ear.

She was wearing a pair of pajamas. Its silky fabric shimmered in the light of the lamp on the nightstand, and its midnight-blue color contrasted with her fair skin. Her hair fell in soft, messy waves around her shoulders, as if she hadn’t brushed it after her shower.

“I miss you too, sweetie. But I’ll see you soon. Just two more days.” Faith’s tone and her smile were tender. She brought her other hand up to hold the phone too, cradling it almost intimately. “Now be a good girl and go back to bed, okay?”

“But what if the monsters come back?” a tiny voice whimpered.

Tala tried not to listen in, wanting to give Faith her privacy, especially since Faith probably didn’t realize Wrasa could hear both sides of a phone conversation. But it was hard not to pay attention. Watching Faith interact as a mother was too fascinating.

“They won’t,” Faith answered. “I promise. I had your dad check, and he says there are no monsters in your closet, only too many clothes—and that’s not scary, is it?”

Chloe giggled. “No.”

“Want me to give you a minute alone?” Tala mouthed.

Faith shook her head and made an “I’m nearly done” gesture. “Hug Mr.Snugglefluff tight, okay? He’ll keep the bad dreams away.”

“Okay, Mommy. I love you.”

“I love you too. Sweet dreams. Night, Chloe.” Slowly, as if hesitant to severe the connection with her daughter, she lowered the phone and tapped the screen to end the call. A tender expression lingered on her face. Then she glanced up at Tala. “Sorry. Bad dream and Jon couldn’t get her to go back to sleep.”

“Never apologize for being a good mother.”

Faith blinked as if surprised by the response.

Truth be told, Tala was a bit surprised herself, mostly by how passionately it had come out. But as far as she could tell, Faith really did a great job as a mother, even if some Wrasa held a low opinion of human parenting skills.

“I won’t.” Faith put the phone down, plugged it into the charger on the nightstand, and slid down in bed, apparently ready to go to sleep.

Tala frowned. Faith had chosen the side closer to the door, away from the window, where Tala couldn’t protect her from anyone barging in.

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. That overprotective mate thing is a role, remember? Not real. Besides, they were in the safest place on earth—with her pack. Even though some pack members weren’t overjoyed at Faith’s presence, they would never do anything to harm her. She hoped Faith knew that.

Tala turned off the light, slipped into bed on the other side, and settled under the covers, careful not to touch her.

Faith lay on her back with her hands pressed to her sides, not moving. Even though she had taken a quick shower, she still smelled of the mate scent perfume. Had she reapplied it, like a protective layer?

“You know you’re safe here, right?” Tala asked quietly. “With my pack. With me.”

Faith cleared her throat. “Yes.”

Tala hoped she really believed it.

They lay without speaking for a while. Had this bed always been so small? Tala felt as if she couldn’t even roll over without brushing against Faith. She would never be able to go to sleep with her so close. Sighing, she resigned herself to a sleepless night.