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Evangeline wasn’t so surprised by his reaction. The company, yes, but not Maddox’s open frustration.
Lifting her hand, resting it comfortingly on his lower back, she murmured, “Isn’t that your parents?”
Maddox didn’t relax a muscle. A growl rumbled deep in his chest as he stared at the mated pair leisurely approaching the cabin.
“Yeah,” he snarled. “That’s them alright.”
Evangeline frowned. “Were we expecting them?”
“You weren’t.”
So Maddox was.
Huh.
Another secret. How freaking wonderful.
3
When his mother immediately threw an arm around Evangeline’s waist once she was close enough to, then hurriedly bustled his mate back inside, Maddox knew that his parents hadn’t stopped by to wish them a very, merry Christmas.
Shit.
As if he could hear Maddox’s curse, his father widened his stance from where he kept a good ten feet distance between them before crossing his burly arms over his barrel chest.
He jerked his head, one part greeting, one part approval. “I checked the borders on our way in. Good job. I picked up on a couple of traps, and you’ve sprayed the mountain so thoroughly, no shifter or corpse is gonna dare come any closer to your lair.”
“Thanks. Until I get my paws on Cilla, I’m not taking any chances.”
“Don’t blame you, boy. You know what you’re doing.”
Did he?
He fucking hoped so.
Once the women had gone inside of the cabin and closed the door behind them, Maddox dared to peek a little bit higher.
Colton, with his teen idol, clean-shaven good looks, took after their beautiful mother. Maddox, though? As he glanced over at his father, careful to peer at the other man out of the corner of his eye so that the powerful wolf didn’t take it as a challenge, Maddox accepted that he was looking at his future in the next thirty years or so.
Terrence Wolfe might have been sixty years old, but a human would’ve never been able to tell. Sure, he had his share of marks on his face—only they weren’t wrinkles, but scars. Gashes and lines covered every inch of skin, each scar another fight he survived in his four decades as a shifter Alpha on the wrong side of the Claws Clause.
Since Paras were forced to reveal their existence to the human world more than fifty years ago, Terrence came into power during a time when paranormal communities were under scrutiny by Ants, other Paras, and the government. He cobbled his pack of motley shifters together out of necessity, fighting hard to keep it together, and keep it powerful.
His dad might have been handsome once. Now? Now, he was the epitome of Para strength, from his shaggy, dark hair barely peppered with grey, to his amber shifter’s eyes and a jagged scar that tore right through both of his lips. Even when he was trying to put his opponent at ease, it always seemed like Terrence was scowling.
Then again, when it came to dealing with his firstborn son, Terrence usually was.
“What are you doing here, Dad?”
“Not here as your father, Maddox. I’m here as your Alpha.”
He could tell. As a born alpha himself, he could pick up on the power level of other shifters as easily as breathing. Normally, his wolf outranked most other predatory shifters; in his thirty years, he’d never come up against another beast in their territory who was stronger than he was—except for Terrence Wolfe.
His Alpha.
Growing up, his father reined in his dominance until he had a reason to use it against his boys. Even after Maddox and Colt got older and they each took their respective place in the pack, Terrence knew when to be their father and when to be their Alpha.
Maddox had been expecting this visit. His father wasn’t pulling any punches, either. One quick glimpse at the man’s ominous golden gaze warned Mad that his father’s beast was simmering right below the surface. One snap was all it would take. One snap and he’d be at the mercy of the grizzled wolf’s fangs.
