Gunnar’s nostrils flare, his lips curling away from his fangs. “Then why have you scrubbed his scent from your skin? If he were mine, I’d want the whole world to know it!”
My heart’s hammering, and surely he can hear it. I’ve got to keep my composure. Like when I first learned to draw a bow. I was scared I’d miss my shot, that we’d go hungry. Father had squeezed my shoulder and said, “Breathe, boy.”
Drawing in a breath, I turn to face Gunnar, taking his hand off my shoulder and holding it tight. It pains me to see him like this, the line between man and beast as thin as a blade’s edge. “I didn’t want you to have to smell him on me. Do you really think me so cruel that I’d taunt you in such a manner?”
Gunnar’s breath hitches. His hand curls around mine hard, claws biting into my skin. Hot blood drips down my palm, and I grind my teeth against the stinging pain. Thescent of blood fills the air between us. Gunnar wrenches his hand away, panic spiking his scent. “Apologies,” he says in a breathless whisper, then shoves past me into the house without another glance.
I exhale, my heart racing hard enough to burst from my chest.
It’s a good thing we’re leaving soon. If Gunnar found out who I was truly with, it would drive him into a rage. I’ve hurt him enough with my lies.
Inside the house, everyone has already gathered at the table. I linger at the threshold, wishing I had my phone so I could capture this moment of my family whole and happy like we haven’t been in years. All but Gunnar, who doesn’t react to anyone and focuses on filling his plate.
Once I’m gone, will Gunnar lose himself completely to his wolf? What if my absence pushes him over the edge? I’ve got to find a way to let them know that my reasons for leaving aren’t callous.
I join them at the table and smile at my aunt. “Thank you for the stew.”
“I made it just for you, lad.” Her smile is soft and so full of love it hurts to look at her.
My chest tightens. Helga knows it’s my favorite. Gods, why does it feel as if I’m betraying them? I’m not. I deserve to be happy. They will survive without me.
“Thank you,” I croak, lowering my gaze to my food. I take a sip of the stew, savoring the flavorful broth andtender chunks of meat. I will miss her cooking, misshermore than I can say. My eyes sting, and I force the melancholy thoughts down. I can’t break. My family will know something is wrong. If this is my last evening with them, let it be a joyful one.
“How was your day, Alpha-Mate?” I give Kieran a teasing smile, knowing how the title makes him blush.
He gives me a withering look but laughs softly. “Pretty good. I’ve started teaching the kids how to play instruments.”
Wulfric rubs Kieran’s back. “You should start a… what’s that word? A band.”
Kieran barks a laugh, squeezing Wulfric’s hand. “I’ll make a Viking version of the Jackson Five!”
“One of those pastries you brought was new,” I say to Anders. “It tasted like apples.”
Anders nods. “Aye, it’s called an apple turnover.”
Jamie gulps down some mead. “They’re good, right?”
“Delicious,” I say. I hope they have these apple turnovers in San Francisco. “How are you, Aunt Helga?”
“I’m quite well, dear. The garden is thriving. Our village is safe. My lovely nephews are happy. I could not ask for anything more.” She pats my hand, her touch soft and warm.
I’m almost afraid to speak to Gunnar, but it’s only fair since I’ve asked after everyone else. I clear my throat andforce myself to look across the table at Gunnar. “And you, brother?”
Gunnar doesn’t reply right away, draining his whole mug of mead. His beard glistens, and he flicks his tongue over the pointed edge of his fang. His narrowed eyes dart from face to face, his shoulders hunching up toward his ears. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m not some deranged beast yet.”
Jamie coughs. “We weren’t—”
“Aye, you were. I’ve still got my sanity. You needn’t look at me with fear nor pity.” Gunnar spits the words out through his fangs.
Wulfric clears his throat. “Apologies, Gunnar. That wasn’t our intention. How did the hunt go?”
Gunnar jerks a shoulder. “I caught it, killed it, butchered it. Nothing to tell.”
Wulfric hums, frowning down at his bowl. Kieran rubs his shoulder. “Thanks, Gunnar. You’re one of the best hunters we have.”
Gunnar answers with a grunt, eating more stew.
Time flies after that, the tension fading like mist when Kieran offers to play a song he learned on the lyre. His music lightens the mood and makes the evening a memorable one. I couldn’t have asked for a better farewell than this.
