“Oh, we most definitely do need to talk about this.”
My eyes dart to each member of my family, noticing howeven Wesley has stopped eating to eye Asher. I open my mouth again, ready to deflect, but Asher squeezes my knee. A blank wall coming down over his eyes gives him a look of resolved detachment.
“I was born Asher Walton, son of Claude and Estelle Walton," he says, and my sister’s fork slams to her plate while my mother’s knuckles turn white around hers. He nods and rolls his lips between his teeth before continuing. “I see you’ve heard of them. I changed my last name to Sullivan when I moved out at eighteen, and did everything I could to cut myself off from them. I don’t agree with their way of life.”
“And they let you go?” Mom asks, suspicion coloring her tone.
Asher drops his eyes from hers.
“Not exactly. They’re still trying to convince me to rejoin the family. Or at least, I assume they are. Anytime they find a new way to contact me, I delete without reading it. They have been reaching out more lately, but nothing has come of it.”
“How will you ensure that our Raya stays safe?” my dad asks. He puts a hand on Josephine’s arm when she clenches her fists on the table.
“Her safety is my top priority, followed closely by her happiness. I would never put Raya in danger. I haven’t seen my family in years, and if I thought for even a moment that they’d harm her because of me, I’d end them.” His voice is laced with steel, his eyes are cold and hard on my dad’s, and the rigid line of his body demonstrates exactly how serious he is.
My dad nods once, slowly, letting the silence stretch with his eyes locked onto Asher’s, then nods again at whatever he sees in Asher’s gaze. He leans back in his chair, and the release of tension ripples around the table as everyone relaxes. Jo remains suspicious, but Wesley returns to his food. I exhale a sigh of relief as tingles rush down my arms, trailing light grey fur in their wake.
“Raya?” my mom’s hawklike attention is on me now. “I thought you had your shifting under control, dear.”
“I mean,” I gulp, “I do, mostly. It’s just every so often it gets the better of me still.” My face heats with embarrassment and shame.
Asher leans in, his hand on my thigh again and his lips close to my ear so my family can’t overhear, even with their enhanced shifter hearing.
“Deep breaths, sunshine. You’ve got this," he says, and I lock my eyes onto his as I take a steadying breath. Then another.
With a slow exhale, the fur pulls back into my skin and I look back to the table to see my parents both with slight smiles on their faces, my mom nodding in approval. My sister is indecipherable at this moment, whereas my brother looks downright confounded.
“What type of shifter even are you? Are you adopted?” He turns to our parents. “Is Raya adopted?”
“Stars above, Wesley. What is wrong with you?” Josephine explodes at him, and I sit back in my seat, astonished. That never occurred to me, but before it can even settle into my thoughts, Dad is already shaking his head.
“No, she’s not adopted,” he says. “She’s special.”
Special, when all I’ve wanted was to be normal, to fit in, to belong. I hoped that by gaining my ability to shift, I’d finally be accepted, but if my brother’s reaction is anything to go by, that isn’t any more likely to happen now than it was before. Now, instead of being the shifter freak who can’t shift, I’m the shifter freak who shifts too much.
My parents exchange a significant look.
“What is it? What’s that look?” I say, voice urgent.
When they don’t answer, my sister pipes up.
“Well? We all know you’re hiding something now, so you might as well come clean.”
My dad folds his hands on the table and looks down at them as my mom shakes her head, then takes a deep breath and straightens her spine.
“Are you sure you want to do this now?” Mom asks, eyes going to Asher sitting next to me.
“Yes," I say, taking his hand in mine, not caring if he overhears my business. I’ve wanted answers my whole life, and I’m not about to wait any longer if they’re finally within my grasp.
“We don’t know anything for sure. All we have are guesses," she says, and I lean forward.
“You were born on the summer solstice, Raya," Dad says. “Not only that, but it was also at the height of the new moon.”
“Ooookay. So what?” Jo voices my exact thoughts.
“We looked into it once you started shifting,” he continues, “and not only was it the day of the solstice and new moon, but somehow you were born at the exact height of both events, while they were in eclipse.”
“Wait, what?” This time it’s my brother who voices my thoughts.
