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“Of course, if you don’t trust that my inventions are pure…” Walker nudges his used glass a few inches past his side of the table. “Here you go. Have mine.”
Oh. I’m fucked.
What do I do? Accept a doctored drink that might leave me defenseless or take his?
In shifter culture, sharing a meal with someone has a meaning. It says: I will protect you. I will feed you. I will take care of you.
You’re mine.
I only agreed to this sideshow because, technically, the Wicked Wolf is my “father”. The poster child for deadbeat dads—with an emphasis on ‘dead’ since he would’ve been happy drowning me when I was a pup—I hate admitting that we share some of the same DNA, but if that gives me a way to explain this dinner to my wolf, I’ll take it. Plus, we’re sitting among the other wolves. He said it was a community spread. It’s not technically from him.
But the glass of water would be.
I have no choice. I saw him drink the water out of his glass so I highly doubt that he had messed with it. I can’t say the same about the one waiting for me.
Damn it.
I snatch his glass, using my thumb to wipe the rim of the glass before I lift it to my lips.
He watches with a smirk as I drain half of it.
There. Happy?
Walker seems to be. Once I set the glass down, he gestures at the plates. There are steaks, potatoes, sausages, seasoned vegetables, rolls, and more piled up on the serving trays. The last one is full of cream-filled donuts.
“Eat up, my daughter. And then we can get to know each other a little better.”
If those are his terms, I’d honestly rather starve. I might’ve refused, too, if it wasn’t for my wolf. She reminds me that, without fuel, I’ll weaken quicker. Since being weak is absolutely unacceptable—and I already drank the water—I say screw it.
At least Elizabeth is allowed to pick at a roll.
It could be a strange quirk of being in a pack. The Alpha always gets first pick of a meal, and the poor she-wolf is sitting with two alphas. Either she feels as queasy as I do, or her instincts are telling her she has to wait.
Regardless, I promise myself that I’m going to load up a plate when we’re done. If it’s more that Walker wants her as a fixture than a guest, I’ll rely on my own instincts. I won’t let a packmate go hungry, even if I have to pretend like I’m taking some of the food to go.
We eat in silence. Us shifters take our food seriously, and it’s not like I really have anything I want to say to my birth father.
Once we’re done, he waves his hand. A red-headed wolf male appears suddenly at the side of the table. He clears the dirty plates, the remaining food, and our water glasses. All he leaves behind are the donuts and Elizabeth’s half-touched roll.
Walker’s smirk is back on his face. Jerk. He had to have known I planned on packing up the rest of that.
He leans back into his seat, the perfect picture of a satisfied male. I only have a split second to realize that that couldn’t be good before he looks right at me.
“Now that we’ve eaten, I want to talk to you about bonds.”
In the seat next to me, Elizabeth stiffens. Huh. I guess his opening comment about him trying to claim her as his mate had something to do with this farce of a dinner, after all.
“What about them?”
His gaze lingers on my marks. “When I heard that Loup failed me, I assumed you went through with mating Wolfson. Your other packmate confirmed it for me. Still, I hoped they were wrong.”
Lifting my hand, I run my fingertips over one of the jagged lines. Even though Ryker isn’t here, touching it makes me feel like he’s here with me. I soak up some of his strength before meeting Walker’s leer.
“They weren’t.”
“What if I told you that you didn’t have to stay with him? In the Wolf District, you could have any male you wanted. Just because you decide to come home again, you don’t have to be lonely.”
My wolf snaps her jaws at that. I don’t blame her. A bonded mate is for forever. Even thinking about being with another male after me and Ryker claimed each other is enough to make me want to hurl the entire dinner we just ate.
