Page 26 of Lone Wolf’s Claim (The Kincaid Werewolves #1)

The prince caught his eye and smirked. Brock ground his teeth together.

This was just a fucking game to him. He'd never had any intention of allowing him to be with Heather, and this final scene was just his way of ensuring that she would turn against him, since he'd proven himself worthy in every other way during his sick little game.

After everything he'd just gone through, everything they'd shared, he thought he had Brock by the balls.

Well, he had a surprise for this asshole faerie. He met his accusatory stare head on, and refused to let the weight of his shame weigh him down. Instead, he stood tall and with his head held high, because he had nothing to be ashamed of. And soon, everyone here would know it.

"Whit was it exactly tha’ Brock was accused of?" Cedric finally asked.

With an exaggerated wink at Brock, the prince turned to the large alpha leader and announced in an overly loud stage whisper, "He attacked one of the mated females in the pack. He forced himself upon her and got her with child."

Brock heard Heather’s sharp intake of breath, but he still refused to look at her.

He didn't want to see the look on her face.

Not just yet. Instead, he turned to look at Lucian, searching for something, anything.

Some small sign of remorse, or gratitude, or…

something …to make him rethink what he was about to say.

But when Lucian glanced over at him, there was nothing. Not one sign of emotion. The corners of his mouth turned up in a smirk as he turned away, confident that Brock would never expose him after all of this time.

So that was the way it was gonna be? The last lingering remnants of uncertainty left him; along with any misplaced feelings of loyalty he’d had for his childhood friend.

"Is there anything you would like to say for yourself, Brock?" the prince asked.

"Actually, there is," Brock stated firmly. Lucian stiffened and narrowed his eyes in warning. Returning the warning look for look, he opened his mouth to tell them the truth of what had really happened, but a flurry of movement caught his attention. The words he’d been about to speak withered and died in his throat as a stunning brunette woman came timidly down the hall and joined the group.

A young child clung to her hand. A boy. With blonde hair and blue eyes and chubby cheeks.

Brock looked from the boy to his mother. Her eyes were wide, silently pleading with him not to say anything. Thomas, his old pack master, stepped up beside her. He gave Brock a small, relieved smile before spotting Lucian across the room. The smile instantly fell from his face.

Brock followed his gaze over to Lucian to see his reaction to this new development. His old friend didn't even glance at the woman and child, or at Thomas, and appeared bored with the entire proceeding.

Cedric was outwardly calm and hard to read, as he’d been this entire time. Only the slight sheen of disappointment in his eyes when he looked at Brock gave away any indication of how he was feeling about all of this.

“Thomas!” The prince’s voice boomed across the room. “How are you, my old friend? I hope you’ve held things together since I’ve been gone?”

Holy fucking hell.

Memories flashed by at lightening speed. Brock and Lucian as part of their old pack. The new “advisor” that showed up out of nowhere. The unrest in the pack getting worse the moment he’d arrived. And how he’d been the one that had pushed for Brock’s trial.

He’d looked different then, but the boots…he still wore the same fucking silver-tipped boots. That’s what had been trying to trigger his memory.

Thomas nodded at the prince, but didn’t return the greeting.

“Mommy? Can I go see Uncle Lucian?” A small, excited voice cut through the tension in the room.

“Not just yet, sweetheart.” The brunette woman murmured. Her heart was in her eyes as she stared at Lucian. Lucky for her, her pack master couldn’t see it.

“But why? I misses him. He never comes visit us like he said. It makes my heart sad.” His bottom lip stuck out in an adorable pout and he crossed his little arms over his narrow chest.

Brock caught the flash of pain that crossed his old friend’s features at the child’s honest words, right before he quickly donned his mask again. But it was enough. Enough to give him pause.

Closing his eyes, he wanted to scream with the unfairness of it all, but he knew he couldn’t say what he wanted to say now.

If for no other reason than that he couldn’t destroy the lives of the woman and child.

If he opened his mouth now and told them she hadn’t been attacked, the woman would be tried for breaking pack law, just as he had been.

And just like him, she would be found guilty, beaten, and (if she lived) ostracized from the pack.

The child would be forced to watch his mother’s downfall, and unless a compassionate, childless couple adopted him, would live his life as an orphan of the pack.

Forever carrying the shame of the circumstances of his birth.

Steeling himself for what he knew he had to do, he finally made himself look at Heather. She was staring at the woman and child, her forehead wrinkled in confusion. It didn’t take but a few moments for the confusion to be replaced by an expression of utter devastation.

Letting his eyes roam over her delicate features, so very precious to him, he tried again to memorize every detail: Her cognac eyes, slightly tilted at the corners like she was always about to laugh, now staring at him full of denial; her soft, chestnut hair that fell around them like a curtain when she leaned forward to kiss him as she was riding him with abandon; her soft breasts and rounded arms and full hips and thighs that cradled him so perfectly when she pulled him down to her…

The prince turned back to him and waited expectantly. Everyone was waiting for him to finish what he’d been about to say. He ignored them all except for Heather. She’d want nothing to do with him now. How could she?

No. She knew him well enough now. She wouldn’t believe this bullshit. She wanted to be with him. She would know that all of this wasn’t as it seemed. She would know better than to believe the crazy one sitting next to her. She would give him a chance to explain before she condemned him.

But when her eyes met his, they were full of accusations and mistrust. As he saw the shadows of her dawning comprehension darken her eyes, he had to bite his tongue so he wouldn’t blurt out that it was all a fucking lie.

That he’d been trying to protect his friend.

And that now he needed to protect the woman and her innocent child.

Instead, he allowed his temper to take over. He was angry that she would believe something so low of him, angry that he was being put into this position again . He gnashed his teeth together and his chin tilted in defiance, disguising the pain that was flooding through him.

With one last glance at the mother and child, he announced with a forced steadiness in his voice, "It's true. I copulated with this female forcefully and behind her husband's back, and she bore my illegitimate child."

The Fae prince sat back in his chair, surprise and something akin to admiration flashing across his features.

Heather's face, on the other hand, crumbled in pain as her eyes went from him to the woman and child and back again.

He looked away, not needing to see any more.

The shame and humiliation that he had kept simmering beneath the surface burned through him.

Gritting his teeth, he glanced up at the woman and child.

Her eyes were filled with grateful tears.

They spoke the words she couldn't say. He gave her a tight nod.

Brock turned to leave, but then swallowed the few pieces that were left of his pride and walked over to stand in front of Heather.

"I'm sorry I wasn't honest with you and that you had to find out this way.

I wish I were a male worthy of you." He caught her eyes with his own.

"You mean more to me than you know. I sincerely hope you have a long and happy life.

All I ask is that, perhaps, you think of me once in a while, and know that I will never forget you.

" Turning on his heel, he managed to keep his head high until he'd gotten out the door and far enough away from them all that they couldn't see or hear him.

Wandering out onto the street, he headed right, back toward the airport.

There was nothing here for him now. Heather would be staying here with her people.

He would go back to Dalian. Back to his life as a siubhal .

Back to his life hunting those fucking possessed vampires or whatever else he could find to keep him occupied.

He made it to the end of the street before the weight of all that had happened the past week came crashing down on him.

He stumbled, fell to his knees in the middle of the dark street, and let the emotions roll through him.

The feeling of loss was so strong it stole his breath, and he gasped for air around the aching hole punctured through his chest. Pictures of Heather's face flashed through his mind: Her head thrown back in passion…

her eyes laughing up at him…her brow furrowed stubbornly when she defied him.

His palms could still feel her warm skin. He could still smell her woman's scent. Could still remember her taste. He wondered how long it would take for all of that to fade, little by little, until he couldn't feel her with him anymore. Until he couldn’t remember her smile.

He could turn around. He could go back. Tell them the truth. Straighten everything out…

But no, he'd done the right thing. Everyone had their crosses to bear. This would be his. For the child's sake.