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I snorted—very unladylike. “That’s an understatement.”
Alasdair chuckled softly and inclined his head in agreement.
I looked over all the papers, my gaze skipping over them, thoughts of the Otherworld slamming into me. I needed to think of something else. I needed to focus on anything that didn’t have to do with me.
“This is all the history of the Scottish Lycans?” I reached out and ran my fingers along one of the thick parchments.
“Aye, but this is a condensed version. We have a facility that houses in-depth details about each clan and house.”
I nodded.
“I always thought werewolves and vampires were only in Hollywood and books,” I mumbled. “I never thought dragons and shape-shifters were real.” I felt my brows lower and looked up at each male before settling my focus back on the Gerard Butler look-alike. “Are there dragon shifters?”
Alasdair looked just as confused as I felt, probably wondering why the hell I was even worried about that when I’d just found out my father was alive.
Alasdair once again looked over at Banner, who inclined his head. “There are species upon species in the Otherworld, far too many for me tae go intae detail about right now. But as for dragons, yes, those are verra much real.”
I nodded, wondering if they knew I was trying to deviate from the actual topic at hand, trying to think of something else other than the shitstorm happening in my life. But I was sure they did. Not only could they scent my emotions, but it wasn’t as if I were actually trying to hide the confusion and fear and hurt on my face.
“Dragon shifters are known as the Dragao. Fierce humanlike males who have the ability to shift into fearsome beasts, not so unlike the depictions humans have created.”
I leaned back, and Caelan slid his hand down to rest on my thigh, curling his fingers around my knee to give me a reassuring squeeze. I looked at him and saw the empathy on his face. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around him and just let him hold me. But I was stronger than that. I was stronger than all of this.
So I straightened my shoulders and knew I had to toughen the hell up. Trying to disconnect from what was going on wasn’t going to solve any of my problems. The only thing that would help was to get the answers I so desperately needed, the ones I had come to Scotland in search of.
I ran a hand over my mouth and glanced at one specific parchment that was right in front of me. “So,” I whispered and pointed to a line on the form. “This is him?” I looked over at Caelan and saw he watched me with concern. “This is my father?” I turned my attention back to Alasdair.
“Aye,” he said matter-of-factly.
My father was a Lycan shifter. God, I had a father who was a full-blooded wolf shifter. And although that clearly wasn’t a shock, seeing as I’d found out I was a hybrid, to actually hear the words, to see a name, a birth date, all the information on a man I had never known but always wondered about, brought everything full circle once more.
I stared at his name that was written in gorgeous scroll, the calligraphy elegant and the sweeps of the pen sure. I found myself running my finger along the dark lines, then over to his birth date.
I continued to stare at my father’s name, the letters blurring together until I blinked rapidly.
Conor O’Brien. Born in 1756.
My father was over two-hundred and fifty years old. Blacksmith. No mate. No offspring.
The last part had my heart aching fiercely.
The breath left me again as I pushed all that hurt away and let my anger fill me. At least I tried.
“Why didn’t he come for me? Why didn’t he try to find me?” I closed my eyes and shook my head, so confused that I grew a little dizzy.
From all I’d learned about the Otherworld in this short time, a male Lycan didn’t leave his mate for anything. So then what had happened? Why wasn’t he with my mother?
“Why did he abandon me?” Those words were whispered, and a second later Caelan enveloped me in his strong arms, soothing words in Gaelic being whispered into my hair.
It was one minute where no one spoke and Caelan just held me before I gathered my control. I straightened and looked at Alasdair and felt this strength move through me, this resolve that shocked me.
“I want to see him. I want to meet him.” I wanted to demand why he wasn’t in my life.
Alasdair looked at Banner, silently asking the king of the Scottish Lycans for permission, I assumed. When Banner nodded, his jaw set hard, I had a feeling he hadn’t liked this any more than I did.
