When a lone wolf splits from the pack, there was usually a good reason for it. In most cases it was because there were too many Alphas, and the one who breaks away leaves to start his own pack elsewhere. I suppose if I had done so, with my father’s chosen bride in attendance, he might have let me go more peacefully.
Instead, I’d left, refusing to allow him to force his choice of a wife upon me.
Continuing our Wulver bloodline, and following the old ways, had become something that he’d fixated on after my mother’s injury.
The Wulver clans were small, spread out among the Shetland, Orkney, and outer Hebridean islands. To avoid inbreeding, each year at summer equinox, the clans met and had a small festival to introduce eligible partners to those in neighboring clans. Tradition was held dear, as our way of life was deeply hidden from the outside world. It was rare for a Wulver to break away, to start fresh somewhere, and when it happened, all efforts were made to recover the wayward wolf. Even force, if necessary. It was considered a security measure, as one small privacy leak could threaten entire clans, and it was easier to keep members in line if they were kept near.
Beyond being a security risk, I’d threatened our bloodline, according to my father, who so studiously ignored his own lapse when it came to that.
Our mother was not of the Wulvers.
And despite having borne four other sons, her subsequent paralysis after my birth had convinced my father that it was because he’d chosen a wife outside of the clans. A normal human.
Nobody could tell him differently.
Soon my brothers had taken up the belief, following his directive to find wives with suitable bloodlines, as well as sharing in his distrust against all healers. My father had become a zealot in favor of traditional Wulver ways.
Ultimately, it was what had led me to leave. Not only did the islands have more than enough skilled doctors forsuch remote areas, but I’d needed space to try and pick out my own path, outside of my father’s controlling voice.
I closed my eyes, resigned.
This incident would only make him spiral, and he’d be relentless until I gave up and came home.
Maybe it didn’t matter.
After this instance, I might have to leave anyway.
None of that mattered, not now. What mattered was willing myself back to health so I could check on Faelan. I knew she was in here, but I didn’t know why. Had she been hurt in the attack? Had I not fended off the Kelpies well enough?
“Son …” My father surprised me by reaching over to squeeze my hand. “You scared me. I wasn’t certain you’d make it.”
“I shouldn’t have.” The pressure on my chest was beginning to ease, as strength returned to me, and I took in a deeper breath. My leg throbbed, where the Kelpie’s teeth had ripped through tendon and bones, and I wiggled my toes experimentally.
All seemed to be in working order.
Which was impossible … unless …
“Did Faelan heal me?” I asked, my voice becoming stronger. I rolled my head on the pillow to see my father’s stony expression. “Well, did she?”
“Aye, she did. No matter how I tried to stop her. By the time I got through the barrier to you … she just dropped to the ground.”
My heart stopped.
It just stopped.
Panic gripped me.
If she took the pain in, that meant …
I struggled to sit up. I had to go to her, to see if she was still alive. Nobody would be able to help her, as they wouldn’t know what to do. My injuries from the Kelpie would just eat her alive.
“Hey, now. Just rest, boy. There will be time enough to check on the lass.”
“No, you don’t understand.” Fury had me jerking away from my father’s touch at my shoulder, and the IV line went taut between us.
“Careful, Luch.” My father held up the arm with the IV. “You’ll rip this out.”
Bloody hell, but I couldn’t do that either. I needed every drop of this blood.
