Page 19 of Her Wolf Protector

Finally, he drifted into a restless sleep. When he awoke, the house was bustling about, like it usually was in daylight.

This late in the morning, the kitchen was empty except for Narine, who sat at the kitchen table, doing the meal planning and writing out a grocery list for the week.

"I didn't realise you'd come home. The dishwasher's almost done with the breakfast dishes, so if you wait another ten minutes, I should be able to cook whatever you want for breakfast."

Tempting. Narine was a good cook. No match for Sienna, but he had yet to meet a better cook than his sister. "It's fine. I'll just grab a sandwich or something. I'm in a hurry. I need to find Ylva."

"If you want something that's faster than a sandwich, there's the rest of the quiche Sienna made. I could warm a slice up for you, while you make a coffee."

"That sounds perfect." And that was why Narine was Shaw's housekeeper. She noticed he was so distracted he hadn't even made coffee yet, but was too diplomatic to tell him he looked like shit and needed it too much to leave the house without it.

His coffee cup was empty as he gulped down the last bite of Sienna's divine quiche, so he set his dishes in the sink. "Do you want me to wash up?" The dishwasher was still humming.

"Don't worry about it. Ylva's probably at your parents' place. She's been out there a lot lately. Maybe you should pay them a visit."

Tate sighed. Narine hadn't been part of the pack when his father was the pack leader, so she'd probably never met the man. "I guess I'll have to." Anything for his mate.

He drove up to the cottage that had once been one of the enforcer barracks at each corner of the estate. Back when pack territory was enforced with violence against other packs, and the pack enforcers had outnumbered the women and children housed in the inner village, near the main house.

Now, all the Wuffingas enforcers could fit comfortably in his pickup. But he was the only one who'd set foot in his parents' cottage.

Ylva's station wagon was parked outside, the engine already cold. Whatever matter had brought her here, it must be serious to have taken so much of her time.

Tate knocked at the door.

Mother answered it. "My son." She offered her cheek for a kiss.

His father might be a right arsehole, and he knew his mother was a cold fish, but he knew she loved him. So he kissed her cheek, and followed her into the kitchen for a cup of tea.

Tea and biscuits, the store-bought kind. Not baked with love like Sienna's or Narine's creations. But to give Mother her due, they were shortbread biscuits from the Buzzy Barista, and not the cheap stuff.

While Mother brewed the tea in the same teapot she'd used for as long as Tate could remember, she also made small talk about the weather. The snow, the rain, yesterday's surprising sunshine. The possibility of a white Christmas, and whether he'd be taking Christmas lunch with them or up at the big house.

Well, the weather was safe enough, and Christmas was weeks away, so he couldn't answer that one. With only two enforcers, and Hartwin as often as not on duty at the police station in the village, it made sense for Tate to spend his Christmas up at the pack house. Shaw's parents had always made him feel welcome, and Shaw doubly so. Especially this year, the first Christmas he'd get to spend with his sister.

He should get Sienna a gift. Not that he had any idea what to buy, but...

And Arwen. He had a mate now, and she was the reason he was here. Not pack business or family business, but Arwen.

His mother fell silent for a moment as she poured the tea.

The perfect opening for Tate to say, "I saw Ylva's car out the front. Is everything all right?"

Mother pursed her lips. She sipped her tea, then set the cup down with the delicacy of the society matron she'd been trained to be. "Your father is ill, and he sought the healing services of the shaman. She tells me she has done all she can for him, but your father is stubborn, and refuses to see anyone else." Mother did not approve, but she would never say the words aloud. Not when it meant speaking ill of her husband.

"You could leave him, you know. You don't need to put up with him. He's not your mate. I can speak to Narine, and she can prepare divorce papers. Mother..."

"I will not be forsworn. I made my vows, and I will keep them," Mother snapped. Her tone softened. "He's your father, son. I will not see our family broken while there is still breath in my body, or breath in his."

Tate closed his eyes. If he had a cup of water for every time he'd heard her say that, he'd have enough water to drown the Loch Ness Monster. Though he'd be a fool to try it.

"And what of you? Have you found a mate?" Mother asked.

"Perhaps. I'd like to consult with Ylva about her, actually. When she'd finished with Father, of course," Tate said smoothly, sipping his own tea.

"When I am finished with her, more like. I remember shamans being powerful. When a shaman can no longer heal the shifters in her pack, it is time for the pack leader to replace her." Father shuffled into the room and plonked himself down in his customary seat at the head of the table. "What are you doing, serving these crumbly biscuits, woman? It's cake I want with my tea. Cake, I tell you!" He banged his fist on the table, making the teacups clink in distress. Even they could see the storm coming.

Mother and Ylva exchanged telling glances.