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“Nonsense. You will.”
“I can’t. At least until I remember who I am.”
His father’s tone grew harsh, and he banged a fist on the table. “You will obey my command.”
A flash of a distant argument filtered into his mind. Leave the pack again for another stupid adventure, and I’ll disown you. It was the same anger his father displayed now. Yet, not the same. “We fight all the time.”
Wolfstrom demeanor relaxed. “Apologies, I forget you just woke from a coma.” He chuckled. “Yes, we often butt heads, but only when it concerns the pack’s future.”
He perked up as his awareness of their antagonistic relationship increased. “Yes.”
His father nodded and bit into a succulent piece of steak.
The meat was high grade, but he wasn’t as famished as he imagined he would have been while in coma for days. Nothing made sense. Nothing but the scent of the female on his father’s clothes. The scent his wolf wanted to bathe in. “Father, did you meet with Agrippa before she left?”
“Yes. We visited you and then I had my driver take her to my private jet.”
“I see.” He returned to his steak and downed it in three bites.
“Once you scent her up close, you’ll know.”
“Of course, Father.” Agrippa. Her scent? Wait. His inner wolf flared its nostrils. The scent of weeds and poison. Not his mate.
“Henrik thinks a few more sessions of neuro-therapy will help.”
No. “I’m fine. I think what I need is to run in the forest.”
“I agree. Shifting will be good.”
“I can sniff around and get my bearings throughout our home.”
“I’ll have two of your betas join you.”
“I prefer to be by myself, unless you think I’m a danger to others?”
“Go ahead, have a run of the castle.” He poured himself a second cup of red wine. “You don’t mind if I join
you?”
“No, of course not.” He ate the rest of his meal and studied his father. His head throbbed from trying to remember. His wolf felt the emotion of anger, yet, he loved his father and a vague memory entered his mind. In his dreams, a woman’s voice explained his father crossed the veil to offer his love. Who was this woman? Yet, this man was very much alive.
Wolfstrom offered him a small platter of pieces of meat covered in bacon juice. “Have some.”
He flared his nostrils and flinched. No wonder his father’s imbued essence indicated corruption. His so-called father ate humans. “Are we cannibals?”
“Certainly not. We don’t eat lycans.”
“But we are forbidden from eating humans.” Lycan law forbids it. That much, he remembered. “We can’t be related to Griswold.”
“Do you not remember any of our exclusive precepts?”
“So, I’m the son of an oath breaker.”
“Many view us as such, but you must remember you are a descendant of Gunter Wolfstrom. Your grandfather had a vision of a human-free world, where lycans take their place as masters of the earth. Supremacy over the weak.”
He rubbed his brow. “This bothers me.”
Wolfstrom threw his napkin next to his plate. “You seem to recall your sensibilities while being raised in American territory and nothing on how you currently feel.”
