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“Well, if Shadow’s name has a meaning like she claims, what’s saying they all don’t,” he murmurs, and I yawn. “Rest now. Tomorrow, we go to the moon goddess realm.” I roll on my side, tucking Temperance closer, and my eyes shut, but not before hearing Malachi’s last words.
“Tomorrow we are knocking that domino over.” Then, everything goes black.
ChapterSixty-Five
Temperance
I awake up, naked, on the floor by the fire. The warmth and light of the flames washes over me.
Rolling over beside me is Eziah, sleeping soundly, but also naked. In the light of the fire, I can take in every inch of him; his strong body, his abs, and every line of his restful face. I watch him for a few moments, taking in the sight of him, before my gaze lingers on his cock. I remember everything from last night, and for once, my wolves feel content. But something in Shadow has changed, she feels different, it takes me a moment to recognize the feeling coming from her. “He kept his promise,” she murmurs. “He didn't hurt you,” she tells me. She feels safe. Finally.
I jump when I feel his fingers trail up my spine, and his raspy voice speaks in the peaceful dark. “Morning,” he asks, cracking one eye open and a small smile tugging at his lips. “How do you feel?”
I smile, and crawl on top of him, laying down on him. I kiss him, taking him by surprise, and feel him smile against my lips. “I take that as a good thing?” he asks, kissing me back. I nod, and he rolls, moving between my legs, so he is hovering over me.
“And your wolves?” he asks me, brushing my messy hair back from my face.
“Shadow feels different, she feels happy for once.” I tell him, wrapping my arms around his neck. Eziah smiles, leaning down and brushing his nose against mine before sighing.
“So she doesn't want to kill me?” he chuckles, I shake my head.
“Good,” he murmurs, kissing the side of my mouth when my stomach growls loudly. He laughs softly, pulling away. “I didn't have time to stop for food, so let's shower. Then I can take you home to the packhouse to feed you.”
“I'm starving,” I admit.
“I can tell,” he laughs, climbing off me and offering me his hand. I take it, letting him pull me to my feet and lead me to the bathroom.
We shower together. By the time we are done, I am ravenous. We dress and head back to the packhouse. The drive is quiet, both of our minds are racing about everything that happened last night.
We slowly make our way up the winding road leading to the imposing pack house. We pull up, and I can feel the tension radiating from Eziah. Reaching for the door handle, he refuses to get out of the car.
“Is everything alright?” I ask cautiously, letting go of the door handle.
He shakes his head and keeps his gaze away from me. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” His voice is dripping with nervousness.
I wait for a few moments before continuing, ”Is this about your dad, the one with the burns?” I ask, remembering how he felt the other day when he was near. He barely spoke to his fathers and mostly remained with Marabella and Kyan almost as if he were using them like a shield. Giving him time to process whatever is troubling him. Finally, he spoke.
“I don’t know how to explain it… I hate coming here, it brings back so many memories—memories I’d rather forget,” he sighs deeply, pain evident on his face, “it was my fault that Dad has burns on his body… I lost control and did something stupid when I was mad. The guilt is killing me.”
My brows furrow and I glance at the house to see the door open and Mateo step out. Eziah however, hangs his head gripping his hair. I chew my lip, unsure if I should tell him his father is approaching the car. So instead, I remain quiet, unsure about what I should be doing in such a situation.
“He hates me,” Eziah says.
“Well, that's a bit harsh, hate is such a powerful word,” Mateo says, dropping his elbow on his window and poking his head through Eziah's window and making him jump in fright. Mateo winks at me, and I try not to laugh at his father who gave his son, such a strong man, the fright of a life.
“To hate someone, that seems to me like that would take up a lot of my energy, and your mother keeps me on my toes, I ain't got time to hate anyone. And I definitely don't hate my son,” Mateo tells him before messing his hair. Eziah smacks his hand away and peers out at him. He rests his head back on the headrest, staring at him.
“Is that why you're avoiding me, here I was thinking I had the plague, or severe body odor or something?” his father laughs, opening his door.
“Enough with the guilt, get out, I made pancakes.”
Eziah looks at him for a second, then climbs out of the car. I do the same, shutting my door to see them awkwardly sizing each other up.
“They're your favorite, chocolate chip?” Mateo tells him, holding his arms open. Eziah chuckles, but then hugs him.
Mateo holds on to his son tightly, and it's as if all the tension he had been carrying lifts away.
“I missed you,” Mateo murmurs, holding his son's face in his hands and looking at him deeply. Eziah nods, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.
