Tyson snorted. "Not even a fair fight, buddy. Come on, guys. We're out of here."
Randall crossed his arms and took a defensive stance. "Come on, now, Tyson. Aren't you even going to introduce yourself?"
It caught Tyson off guard, but he didn't bother to deny it. "I don't know, Randall. How about you first?"
"I knew she'd run home. Talk around town is that you two were an item, so I figured she'd find you. I just wanted you to be aware that I know who you are, although your little performance here was almost believable. But tell me. Does she really feel safe hiding behind a dragon?"
"You're damned straight she's safe hiding behind a family of dragons." He stressed the word family. "And now that I've met you, I can't believe she bred with a dog. Back off Valerie, and maybe, just maybe, she'll come back to you. I doubt it, but since you're holding her kid hostage, it's possible."
"Cute. And he's my son. And as long as I control him, I control her. She'll be back." He smiled. "And trust me. Valerie wouldn't be able to handle him anyhow."
Randall waggled his fingers in a wave. "I'll be seeing you. It's nice to meet you."
They all backed away until they reached the sidewalk, and they kept a wary eye behind them until they were out of sight. Colton pushed Tyson. "Val forget to tell you something?"
Tyson growled at him. "Obviously."
Logan shook his head. "That could have gotten nasty really fast."
Tyson's temper boiled all the way back to the ranch. He couldn't believe that a detail as big as a wolf hadn't been important enough for Valerie to tell him.
His other thought was that now he knew the discrepancy between the kids. Tyson suspected that Londyn hadn't inherited the wolf gene, but Mitchell had. It was the only thing that made sense with Randall's warning. And the whole aspect of her son being a werewolf put a real damper on what type of future they could have together.
Dragons and werewolves didn't exactly mix, especially if Mitchell was already learning the bad habits of his kid from his own father.
Chapter Seventeen: Chapter 17 Title
Valerie Blanchette Kenway
Valerie could see the anger emanating from Tyson as he stormed across the yard toward her. She had no idea what he was so pissed about, but she'd known him long enough to recognize it. She slowly rose from her rocker
"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded when he got close enough.
"Tell you what?"
"That your husband is a goddamned werewolf."
She stared at him blankly. "A werewolf?"
"Come on, Val. You're going to play stupid and pretend you didn't know?"
Her own temper flared. "I don't have to play stupid because I have no idea what you're talking about."
"We went there. We talked to him. Hell, he even introduced himself to me and, by the way, he already knew who I was. But the whole bunch of them. They're a pack of wolves. Dogs. And your husband is the leader. The alpha or whatever they call it. That's probably why you say he was always meaner while they were around. He had to uphold his dominance."
She thought about it, and suddenly so many little details fell into place. "That's why they never wanted anything to do with me. They weren't family in the traditional sense that I thought." She stared at Tyson. "You have to believe. I had no idea. We were literally never together unless it was to impress someone else." Anger rose. "Or better yet. Don't. Because if you thought I knew my husband was a fucking dog, and still chose not to tell you, then you can just believe that about me."
He walked straight up to her and cupped her face. "You seriously didn't know?"
"Randall made sure that I didn't know anything about his world. I worked in his office from time to time. That's how I knew what accounts could be accessed the easiest without him knowing immediately. But I was just a roommate for the most part. We even kept separate bedrooms."
"It makes other things make more sense, too."
"Where's Londyn?"
Valerie frowned. "She's down with your sister, why?" She suddenly clapped her hand over her mouth. "Oh my God. You're not... she's not..."
"She's not, but I'm pretty sure your son is." He ran his thumb over her cheek. "There's no easy way to say it. That would explain his sudden lack of interest in Londyn. She didn't inherit the gene. But when Mitchell came along, my guess is that he did."
