Chapter 1
Present day…
Breathe, Stella Lennon told herself. This was not the end of the world, after all.
It was just a bad date.
And besides, was it really a date if your date brought his own date?
Her date, Tyler Keller whooped aloud, raising his fist in the air as the sportscaster on TV announced that the home team, the Las Vegas Invaders, had scored, securing victory. “Touchdown! Yes!”
“Yay!” Kimmy—his date—exclaimed as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed her generous cleavage up against his chest. “That was an amazing play!”
“Yeah, it was,” Stella chimed in. “Um, go team!”
When neither of them acknowledged her and instead continued their celebratory embrace, Stella decided she’d had enough. While admittedly, her painful shyness and introverted nature made it difficult to connect with other people, she was no doormat.
Standing up from the stool, she left a few bills on the bar, clutched her purse straps tight, then made her way toward the exit.
I should have known better, she scolded herself.
To her credit, this really did sound like a date.
A few weeks ago, Tyler Keller arrived at Crestholm Preparatory School where Stella worked as a music teacher. As a substitute, he was there to cover for the PE teacher, Mr. Hollis, who had to undergo emergency heart surgery. Young, athletic, and good-looking, Tyler had sent nearly all the female—and a few male—teachers’ hearts aflutter. However, for some reason, he had gravitated toward her—unassuming, mousy Stella, who didn’t have a clue how to even talk to a guy like Tyler.
It started with a few casual conversations in the break room the first week, with him asking questions about how things worked at Crestholm Prep. The week after that, they started sitting next to each other during lunchtime, though they were still surrounded by other staff members. Then their conversations went outside work, through text messages. He would text her good morning first thing when she woke up, then they would send each other messages or funny memes throughout the day. They’d continue their conversations until late at night, when Stella often fell asleep with her phone in her hand, staring dreamily at the words on her screen.
Perhaps because of her limited dating experience—she had only ever had one serious boyfriend in college and that barely lasted a year— she had misread the signs. But then again, how was it possible to misread words like “I miss you” and “I wish I could cuddle with you right now”?
They had danced around each other for weeks, neither making the first move to take flirty chats to the next level.
So, when Tyler finally asked her to go to this sports bar tonight, she’d been thrilled. She put on her sexiest outfit—a little red sundress with a swishy skirt—and drove over to Bill’s Sports Bar and Grill down at The Spencer Hotel and Casino. Tyler—who was originally from Michigan and had moved to Las Vegas the year before—had chosen the place, because as a Las Vegas native, Stella would never have picked to meet up at any place on The Strip.
She had arrived there, filled with nervous energy, but her excitement burst as soon as Tyler introduced her to the cute blonde by his side. Throughout the evening they had stayed by the bar, watching the game. Stella knew nothing about football, other than that their home team was in black and the opposing team was in red. Kimmy, on the other hand, could name all the players, their positions, and their stats. She cheered during the right times, and booed and cursed the referees when they made bad calls. She even wore an Invader’s jersey, which was cropped to show off her flat, tight belly.
“Stella! Wait!”
Stella was halfway across the parking garage when she heard Tyler’s voice. Her steps faltered, but she managed to stop herself from falling over. Her instinct told her to keep walking, but unfortunately, her genteel upbringing told her that was rude. So, she spun around.
“Oh, hey, Tyler.”
“You leaving already?” Those firm lips she imagined kissing all these weeks pouted. “I thought we were having fun.”
You seemed to be having fun with Kimmy just fine.
She bit her tongue, trying to stop herself from saying what was on her mind. “It’s late and you know … tomorrow’s a school day.”
He flashed her that devastatingly handsome smile that would have normally sent her stomach fluttering. “Aww, you always do the right thing, don’t you, Stella?” He moved closer to her. “Is it that preacher’s daughter in you? Haven’t you always wanted to be a bad girl for once?”
Her cheeks heated. She’d shared some of her childhood with him, but only casually, in a “getting to know you” kind of way. “I really should go. And you should go back to Kimmy, she might be wondering where you are.”
“Are you leaving because of her?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “She just kind of showed up when I told her I was coming here to see this game. I mean, it’s not like I invited her or anything.”
A small spark of hope lit up in her.
Maybe I did get it all wrong.
Perhaps this was a date after all.
“Come on, Stella, don’t be a spoilsport. Come back inside. Or”—he leaned closer, so his face was inches away from hers—“do you want to go somewhere more private?” He circled her wrist with his fingers. “Like my place?”
A deep snarl coming from somewhere inside her chest gave a resounding no.
She let out a surprised squeak and pulled her hand away from his grip.
It had been a while since she’d felt that.
Tyler staggered back. “Stella?”
Had he heard it? She mentally shook her head. No, he couldn’t have. “I’m tired, Tyler. Really. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” Turning on her heel, she marched off, ignoring his gaze as she felt him track her steps all the way to her car.
Breathe.
Her surprisingly steady hands managed to press the ignition button to start her car and make her way out of the parking garage. She blocked out the bright lights and sounds of The Strip until she got to the quiet, well-lit highway that would take her back to her suburban home just outside Las Vegas.
Keeping one hand on the wheel, Stella placed a hand over her chest, rubbing it in circles. It was something she’d learned to calm herself—or rather, it down.
When she was a child, Stella had an imaginary friend. Well, it wasn’t quite like an imaginary friend that she would pretend to see or interact with. No, this friend was like a presence inside her, who would react to things around or to her thoughts, and often in the opposite way she would normally act.
Momma had raised her to be a proper, polite lady, after all, so she was careful with what she said or did. She never shouted or screamed, always said “please” and “thank you” and definitely never, ever said anything unpleasant or disagreeable or did anything that could antagonize anyone else.
When the kids at school bullied her because she didn’t always wear the latest fashions or carried the newest gadgets, she would swallow her anger and “turn the other cheek.” Or there was the time a boy in her class pushed her to the ground, she did not fight back, but stayed down, refusing to react.
No, Stella was raised to be a well-mannered, courteous girl.
She would never raise her voice or protest, even to defend herself.
Her imaginary friend, however, was the exact opposite.
She could feel it simmer with rage every time the other kids harassed Stella. It wanted her to fight back, to get even. Of course, she wouldn’t do it, as she could already imagine her parents’ disappointed faces if she ever got in trouble.
As she grew older, however, it became more difficult to hold back. It was like she had the Devil inside her, constantly telling her to do bad things. Because her father was a pastor, she was so afraid to let her parents know what was happening. So, she prayed hard, day and night, trying to keep her imaginary friend at bay.
And she was successful, until one day, she just snapped. A group of girls were teasing her in the locker room back in eighth grade. She couldn’t remember what it was about now—juvenile stuff for sure—but it was as if years of clogged up rage had burst out of her. She lunged for the girls and clawed one of them in the face. It had taken two teachers to get her to calm down.
Needless to say, her parents had been disappointed, and she loved Papa and Momma so much that she cried herself to sleep that night because she’d never let them down before. It was at that moment she decided she would never listen to her “friend” again.
Stella jolted back to the present just as she pulled into her driveway. Sometimes, she thought she’d imagined her “friend” all those years ago. Looking back now, perhaps it was a manifestation of her own insecurity at being adopted. Her parents had been open about her adoption from the beginning, never making her feel less than just because she wasn’t their biological daughter. Perhaps the reason she grew up obedient and dutiful was because she was afraid her parents would send her away.
But maybe part of her wanted to rebel too.
Her hand pressed against her chest and she inhaled deeply. It had felt so real, the way her chest rumbled and the snarl rang in her ear. She could swear she even felt the hot breath escaping her mouth.
Maybe I imagined it.
Because the only other explanation was that she was having some kind of psychotic episode.
Trudging into her modest home, Stella took off her heels and made her way to her bedroom to get ready for bed. As she slipped between the covers, she reached for her phone instinctively to check her messages, as usually, this was the time she would exchange messages with Tyler before she went to sleep. Quickly, she withdrew her hand before it even touched her device and then cringed, thinking that she would have to see him tomorrow at work.
But she also wondered what he was doing now.
Was he still at the bar? Or did he go home?
Was he alone?
Dread pooled in her as she thought of going to work the next day.
I’ll just have to avoid him.
Switching her lamp off, she sank back into her pillows and closed her eyes. As her consciousness fell into that space between awake and asleep, she could have sworn she heard another deep, but this time, yearning growl.
Her alarm the next day woke her up with a start. Reaching over, she switched it off and trudged off to the bathroom. As she brushed her teeth, bits and pieces of her dream from the night before swam into her sleepy brain.
Running.
The smell of leaves.
Soft fur.
Glowing green eyes.
Her hand stopped brushing as she stared into the bathroom mirror. She looked as she always did when she woke in the morning—her blonde hair disheveled from sleep, blue eyes still sleepy.
But she couldn’t help but feel there was something different.
Yanking her toothbrush out of her mouth, she spat into the sink and went through the rest of her morning routine, then headed off to school.
The drive to Crestholm was only twenty minutes, though she dreaded every moment of it. Thankfully, when she pulled into the employee parking lot at school, she didn’t see Tyler’s pickup truck in his usual spot. He also seemed to be absent, but she chalked that off to him being a sub and not really needing to show up for the full day.
By the end of the day, there was a lightness to her step as she headed back to her car that hadn’t been there since last night. Maybe the Good Lord was looking out for her and Tyler had been reassigned elsewhere and she would never see him again.
“Ms. Lennon?”
“Oh!” she yelped, the voice from behind catching her by surprise. When she spun around and saw who it was—or rather, wasn’t— she clutched at her chest and let out a big sigh. “You scared me.”
For a moment, she thought it was Tyler, but no—it was an older man with his white hair slicked-back into a neat hairstyle and a heavy leather briefcase clutched in one hand. In his wool navy suit and shiny loafers, he looked out of place under the grueling hot desert sun.
“Apologies. But, are you Ms. Stella Louise Lennon?” he asked.
“Yes, that’s me. Can I help you Mr. …?”
“Owens.” He handed her a card from his suit pocket. “Harry Owens. I’m a lawyer from New York.”
She gave the card a quick glance before taking it. “You’ve come a long way, Mr. Owens. What brings you to Las Vegas?”
The older man’s mouth spread into a smile. “You.”
“M-me?”
“Yes. Ms. Lennon, I’ve spoken with your parents, and they’ve told me that you are fully aware of the circumstances of your adoption.”
“I—” Her mouth clamped shut as a strange, tingling sensation formed in her chest at the realization that this man was a stranger. He “claimed” to have spoken with her parents, but didn’t kidnappers and serial killers first lull their victims into trusting them before they struck? Should she scream? Run away?
Those options sounded extreme for now, so she mustered up all her confidence. “W-what do you want, Mr. Owens?” If that was his real name.
“Apologies, Ms. Lennon.” Mr. Owens raised a hand in front of him. “It just occurred to me that coming up to a lone woman in an empty parking lot could be misconstrued as something nefarious.” He cleared his throat. “I just arrived an hour ago, and I thought coming here would be the best way to catch you, and when I saw you walking out, I didn’t want to waste any time. But, I can come back tomorrow and make an appointment. Or I could send you a certified letter, if that suits you better?”
The word “certified letter” coming from a lawyer sounded ominous.
“Am I being sued, Mr. Owens?”
As far as she knew, she hadn’t done anything that would warrant a lawsuit. She hardly ever went out—most days she just went to work and headed back home, while weekends were spent cleaning and relaxing at home with a good book or binge-watching her favorite streaming shows. Last night’s “date” was probably the first time in months she’d even stepped in a bar or restaurant.
“No, not at all. Ms. Lennon, I have information—possible information about your birth parents.”
She blinked, her body seizing as shock hit her system. “M-my birth parents?”
“Yes. I’ve been retained by an … interested party to contact you.”
Her heart thudded in her chest. Growing up, Stella had never wanted for anything—she had her adoptive parents’ love and support from the very beginning. Bernard and Alice Lennon were her real parents, as far as she was concerned.
Yet, part of her had always wondered who her birth parents were and what they were like.
More importantly, why did they give her up?
“Who is this interested party?” It didn’t sound like Mr. Owens meant her birth parents.
“My client wishes to remain anonymous for now,” he began. “But, if you’d like to talk, may I suggest a place down the road—the Borderline Cafe? You can take your car, and I’ll take mine.”
“I know it,” she said. It was a very public place, and the baristas there knew her. There would be no safer place to go. “All right.”
It was a miracle she managed the five-minute drive without crashing, considering her hands were shaking like a leaf the entire time. By the time she sat down with Mr. Owens at a corner booth, she had mostly calmed down.
“As you may already know,” the lawyer began, “because you had a closed adoption, any records of your birth parents are sealed.”
“Did you or your client manage to get them unsealed?” When she turned eighteen, Stella had looked into her adoption records, but when she found out they were sealed, she had decided it wasn’t worth the time, effort, or money to get them opened. Perhaps, she had thought, her birth parents had good reason to do a closed adoption.
“I’m afraid I don’t know the exact details of how my clients found out about you. But, they have reason to believe you may be related to them.”
“Like a cousin or something?”
“Again, I can’t say,” he said cryptically. “But, my client would like to confirm via a DNA test. My client will pay for all expenses, of course, including a private lab that can collect your sample at home discreetly. If you wish to confirm with a second lab, we can do that, too, but we would have to negotiate as the samples will have to remain anonymous.”
“I see.”
“If the DNA test is negative, then there’s nothing more to do. If it is positive, then my client would very much like to meet you, but only if you want to.”
“If I want to?”
“They don’t want to force a relationship if you’re unwilling. And there is one last thing.”
“And what is that?”
Laying his elbows on the table, he steepled his fingers together. “My client wants you to know that they understand if you wish to be left alone and prefer not to know about your biological family. Taking the test is optional. Just say the word, and you’ll never hear from me or my client.” Taking his phone out of his pocket, he tapped on the screen. “However, they asked me to read you this message. Would you like to hear it?”
Her mouth went dry, and she nodded.
Taking out his glasses from his pocket, he put them on and began to read. “Ms. Lennon—I understand that The Reverend and Mrs. Lennon raised you to be the person you are today. I don’t wish to intrude in your life. I would be content for the rest of my life knowing you grew up with loving parents who nurtured and cared for you.”
She sat there for what seemed like forever, unable to move or speak. This was perhaps one of the biggest decisions in her life. For many adoptees, it would be a dream come true.
However, it could also be a life-altering decision. The truth could be anything—good, bad, or even catastrophic. Once she opened this can of worms, she wouldn’t be able to close it again.
Would she be able to cope with the truth?
“Take all the time you need, Ms. Lennon.” Mr. Owens stood up. “You have my card. I’m heading back to the airport to take the next flight out, but feel free to contact me any time.”
Time seemed to slow as the lawyer made his way to the exit, and she considered her options.
She had been a winner in the lottery of life—amazing parents, happy childhood, and while she had her own issues, her life was generally great. All she wanted was to live a quiet life, content with what she had.
That rumble from inside her chest returned, and before she knew it, she had shot to her feet. “Mr. Owens!”
Mr. Owens had just reached the door when he turned around, then swiftly walked back to her. “Ms. Lennon?”
“Yes,” she said. “I want to do this.”
* * *
The last two weeks of Stella’s life had been a whirlwind. After her meeting with Mr. Owens, the first thing she did was call her parents. Momma and Papa had been her support, her rock her entire life, so she wanted to hear their opinion and assure them that no matter what the results were, they would always be her parents.
“Of course, Stella,” Momma had replied. “And you’ll always be our daughter, no matter what.”
“The Good Lord gave you to us,” Papa had added. “You have been a blessing in our lives, and for that, we will be forever grateful.”
And while most people might think her parents were unsophisticated small-town folk, the Reverend and Mrs. Lennon were much shrewder and smarter than most people gave them credit for. They had helped Stella hire her own lawyer to guide her through the process and protect her interests. Aside from Mr. Owens’s client’s private test, they hired their own DNA lab to double-check the results.
Which had turned out to be a positive match.
The next step was to reveal the identity of Stella’s relative. According to Mr. Owens, his client wished that the lawyer be present when she read the complete DNA test results.
“Thank you for signing the NDA, Ms. Lennon,” Mr. Owens said as he put the papers away into his briefcase, then retrieved a white envelope. “Are you ready?”
She sat between her parents on their comfy living room couch across from the lawyer as this time, he’d traveled all the way to her parents’ house in Keywoods, a small town about two hours from Las Vegas. She had wanted to be with her parents when she found out the identity of her biological relative.
“Yes.”
Surprisingly, Stella’s hands were steady and her heartbeat was normal as Mr. Owens put the envelope into her hand. Her fingers didn’t even shake as she opened it and retrieved the official-looking papers. “Fenrir Research and Labs conducted the test … ninety-nine percent chance that both subjects share the same biological mother and father …” She scrolled down to the bottom of the page where she saw her name under “Subject A.” Next to it, under “Subject B” was another name.
“Devon Hale?” Stella’s breath hitched.
“Yes,” Mr. Owens said. “The test proves that Devon Hale is your brother.”
The blood rushing to Stella’s ears nearly deafened her. “The D-Devon Hale?”
Mr. Owens nodded.
“Who?” Papa asked.
“He’s a musician, dear.” Momma patted his hand. “Oh, Stella, you have a brother! I’m so happy for you.”
“I …” A dizziness came over her, and she braced herself on the coffee table.
“Stella?” Momma’s tone changed from giddiness to concern as she placed a hand on her back. “Breathe, darling. Just take a deep breath … that’s it.”
“I’m just … I can’t believe …”
Overwhelmed couldn’t even begin to describe what she felt right now.
Not only did she have a brother, but he was also the world’s biggest rock star.
“Now you can see why he wanted to remain anonymous,” Mr. Owens said. “He’s not just anybody.”
Truth be told, even though Stella was a music teacher, rock wasn’t one of her favorite genres. She preferred classical, jazz, and blues. Still, she knew who Devon Hale was.
Rock god.
Superstar.
And apparently, her brother.
“Mr. Hale himself found out the results this morning. He wants you to know he’s elated with the news and that he wants to meet you right away,” he said. “He’s actually waiting outside if you’d like to meet him.”
“He’s here?” Stella’s heart jumped into her throat. “Outside the house?”
He nodded. “If you’re willing, he’d love to meet you now. But if not, he understands. As he explained in his previous message, Mr. Hale will not pursue a relationship with you if you choose not to acknowledge him.”
Turning to her parents, she asked, “What should I do?”
They looked at each other, then Papa covered her hand with his. “This decision is yours, Stella. We can’t make it for you. Only you know what’s in your heart and what you want.”
“But we will stand by your decision,” Momma added. “And no matter what happens, we will always love you.”
She bit her lip. “Are you okay with having him in here? I mean, this is your house, and I want to respect that.”
“Oh, Stella …” Momma smiled warmly at her, the kind of smile that always made Stella feel better when she was done. “First of all, this may be our house, but it will always be your home. And yes, we welcome anyone into our home.”
“Mr. Owens?” Her nerves were frayed, but she managed to speak. “Um, yes. I mean, please ask Mr. Hale to come inside.”
Mr. Owens nodded and stood up. “I’ll go to the car and let him know.”
Time seemed to stretch out as she waited for the door to open. Her heart hammered so loudly in her chest that she couldn’t hear anything else, not even the comforting words her mother was saying. When the knob turned and the door began to swing open, her hearing returned, and the loud squeak of the rusty hinge made her jump to her feet.
“Stella, Reverend, and Mrs. Lennon,” Mr. Owens began. “This is Mr. Devon Hale.”
Stella held her breath as the tall man stepped in from behind the lawyer. She, of course, recognized Devon Hale immediately, and her brain went into temporary shock seeing a famous face in her parents’ living room. However, dressed in a dark button-down shirt and brown slacks, he looked nothing like the photos she’d seen of him on stage, where he was usually in a more … rock star-ey outfit.
“Hello, Stella,” he began. “I’m Devon.” He turned to her parents. “Reverend, Mrs. Lennon, thank you for allowing me into your home.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Hale,” Papa said.
“Would you like something to drink?” Momma asked. “We have tea, coffee, or water.”
“I’m fine, thanks, Mrs. Lennon.”
“Please have a seat then.”
“Thank you.” He sat down on the armchair across from them, next to Mr. Owens. “I know you have a lot of questions, and I have a lot to tell you as well. Perhaps we can speak in private, Stella?”
“Anything you have to say, you can say in front of my parents,” she said, emphasizing the last words.
“Whatever you’re comfortable with.” He folded his hands in his lap. “I have so much to tell you, Stella. I don’t really know where to begin.” Glancing at Mr. Owens, he said, “Can I have the envelope?”
“Of course.”
The lawyer retrieved a large manila envelope from his briefcase and handed it to Devon.
“Maybe I should start with how I found out about you.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sure you’ve seen the most recent news about me.”
“News?” Momma asked. “I’m afraid we don’t watch or read much entertainment news.”
Stella swallowed hard as she recalled the headlines she’d read from a few weeks back. “You’re a … a …”
“A Supernatural,” Devon finished. “More specifically, a Lycan.”
“A what?” Papa repeated.
“He turns into a wolf,” Stella explained. “I remember reading about it. It happened during an awards show, right? You turned into a giant wolf in the middle of a performance.” How could she forget? It was the only thing on the news for days.
“Oh!” Momma clapped her hands together. “You remember, Bernard. We were having pork chops at the diner, and the TV was on.”
“Ah, yes.” Papa stroked his chin. “I recall seeing it on TV and reading about it in the paper.” He tsked.
A cold feeling of dread formed in the pit of Stella’s stomach. “Wait … if you’re a Supernatural then …”
“Yes, Stella, so are you.”
She gasped as her lungs squeezed the oxygen out of her body. “I … I …” The edges of her vision turned black, and if she wasn’t sitting down, she would have fainted.
“Stella.”
A hand—no, two hands covered hers. Glancing down, she saw that her parents had each taken a hand in theirs.
“Stella,” Papa repeated. “We love you for who you are, and who you have grown up to be.”
“Nothing will change that,” Momma added. “We are all God’s children, and He loves us all.”
Their words settled over her like a comfortable, warm blanket. Ever since the news about the existence of Supernaturals had been revealed, many people had also come out against them. However, her parents, who had always taught her love and acceptance of everyone, voiced their support of them. She even recalled that Papa had made the local news for his sermon about loving all of God’s creations.
Still, everything seemed to fall into place.
Was her imaginary friend …?
A rumble answered her.
“I’m sorry for not letting you know right away,” Devon began. “There was no reason to, in case the DNA tests turned out to be negative. I didn’t know I was one myself because I grew up in the system. My wolf was latent until that point, and I didn’t mean to shift on live TV. Thankfully no one was hurt.”
“What happened after the awards ceremony?” Stella asked. The incident had dominated the news cycle for the next couple of days, but Devon had seemingly disappeared after that. Coupled with the incessant headline churning from the media and the next celebrity scandal popping up, Stella couldn’t recall if any news outlet reported on the aftermath of Devon’s transformation.
“A clan of Lycans took me in and helped me control my wolf,” he explained. “I’m much better now, no more accidental shifts. But they also wanted to know how I managed to get lost in the system. See, according to them, their kind would never let Lycan children be abandoned. So, they managed to dig up some information about me—or rather, us. And that’s how I found you.” He handed her the envelope.
Stella accepted the envelope, feeling its weight in her hand. Unsealing the envelope, she took out the papers inside. The first few pages on top she recognized—it was her adoption petition, some school records, her graduation photo, as well as a printout of the Crestholm website with her information. The next piece of paper underneath it was a yellowed newspaper clipping. She squinted at the faded headline as she read it aloud.
“Toddler Found Abandoned at LA Union Station.”
But it wasn’t just the headline that caught her eye, but also the grainy photo of a young boy in a striped shirt—holding two bundles.
She didn’t even need to read the lede aloud to know the implication, but she scanned through it to make sure. “A toddler was found unattended at Union Station early Monday morning, holding two infants, twin girls of approximately four to five months of age.”
Two bundles.
Twin girls.
“Stella?” Momma’s hand gripped her shoulder. “Please … say something.”
Blood rushed to her head, making her dizzy. Releasing the breath she’d been holding, she said, “I … we have a sister?”
“Yes,” Devon said. “And before you ask, I don’t know where she is. Or what happened to our parents. We’ve been searching for them and for your twin. We don’t know why we were split up. But we’re doing our best to find out what happened.” After a pause, he said, “There is one last matter I need to discuss, if only for your safety.
She was starting to feel dizzy again. “And what’s that?”
“Your being a Supernatural—you’ve never shifted before, right?”
“No.” Though she thought about telling him about her “imaginary friend,” she bit her tongue, keeping that to herself for now. “Do you know why or how you … you …”
“Shifted?” he completed. “Not exactly. I was under a lot of emotional turmoil at the time, that could have been a factor. Or maybe it was just long overdue. From what I learned, Lycans are supposed to start shifting around puberty.” His expression turned serious. “Stella, I know this is a lot—finding out you have a brother, a sister, and that you’re also a Supernatural—but you might need some help.”
“You mean, in case I turn into … in case I change accidentally too?” She had seen the video of him changing into a wolf. Could that happen to her?
“Exactly.”
“We’ll deal with it if that happens,” Papa said. “You can stay here for a while, Stella.”
“We can take care of you,” Momma added.
“Thank you.” She smiled at her parents gratefully. She truly did win the lottery of life, having been raised by such amazing people.
“Lycans have a lot of rules in place,” Devon began. “I’m still learning them myself. But, the New York Alpha—my Alpha, since I’ve pledged to them—has offered to help you in any way he can.” He glanced at Mr. Owens. “You can reach him anytime through Mr. Owens, even if you don’t want to continue contact with me.”
“Not continue contact with you?” What was he saying?
“I meant what I said.” He smiled at her parents. “Reverend, ma’am, I’m so very grateful that you were able to give Stella a wonderful and loving home. The last thing I want to do is intrude into your lives. I’ll be content for the rest of my life knowing she’s happy and cared for. I’ve said my piece, and I’ll leave the decision to you, Stella.”
“What do you want?” she asked him.
Without hesitation, he said, “I’d very much like to get to know you better.”
The sincerity in his voice and his face made her chest go all warm. “I … me too.”
The grin on his face lit up the room, making him look even more handsome. “I’m still technically on tour, but maybe we can keep in touch?”
“I’d like that.”
“Great. Give me your phone. I’ll put my number in and you can text or call anytime.”
She did as he asked, and when he handed her cell back, she managed to look up into his sky-blue eyes—eyes that looked familiar because she realized they were so much like her own.
“I’m so sorry, but I have to run. I have to get back to my tour,” he said. “But it was wonderful meeting you, Stella. No pressure at all, but I hope to hear from you. Reverend, Mrs. Lennon, thank you again, and it was a pleasure meeting you. We can see ourselves out.”
“My, he was a pleasant young man,” Momma remarked as soon as the two men left. “Are you going to call him?”
Stella couldn’t answer her. But later that evening, she found herself in her childhood bedroom, staring at the screen of her phone as she tried to write her first text to her newly-found brother.
Anxiety crept into her chest, and she put the phone back on her nightstand. This was all too much; everything was moving too fast.
Her life wasn’t perfect, but she was content and happy. And in one fell swoop, everything changed. Not only did she find out she was related to a rockstar, but that she was also a Supernatural.
Her hand landed on her chest again, rubbing small circles over her heart.
Was it there? Inside her?
How did it work?
Would she grow claws and teeth and rip her clothes off?
Reaching for her cellphone by the nightstand, she rolled onto her back and tapped on her messaging app. She opened a new message and put Devon’s contact in the “To” field.
So … hey.
It’s me.
I mean, it’s Stella.
The beeping sound of the incoming message started her, making her toss her phone in the air. “Eeep!”
The device landed on the ground with a soft thud. Thankfully, her rug was thick and plush, and the screen remained intact. Her heart thudded as she read the message that came in.
Devon
Hi Stella. Thank you for messaging me. smiley face emoji>
Hands shaking, she managed to type back.
You’re welcome.
Ugh. That sounded cringey and awkward.
I’m sorry, is it late for you? Where are you touring right now?
Youngstown, Ohio.
I think? laughing emoji> But wherever I am, it’s three am, but no worries. I was awake anyway. My mate was hungry and she wanted a snack.
The next message that popped up was a photo—one of a pretty brunette woman in pajamas sitting cross-legged on a plush leather couch, a tub of ice cream on her lap. She smiled into the camera, her spoon raised triumphantly.
Charley says hi, by the way.
Tell her I said hi back.
So, mate? Is that like a girlfriend or wife?
Something like that. It’s a Lycan thing, apparently.
Apparently?
Yeah, it’s a long, complicated explanation. I don’t know much about it either.
She kept forgetting that he, too, had recently just discovered he was a Supernatural. Still, he had more experience than her, and she wanted to ask him a million questions, but she didn’t know if it would be rude or if this was the right time. After all, they’d only been texting for all of five minutes.
Almost forgot…
Another photo popped up—this time, it was a selfie of Devon, his hair disheveled and his sky-blue eyes sleepy but with a smile on his face.
In case you wanted to make sure it’s really me and I didn’t give you a fake number. wink emoji>
A pang of something hit Stella in the chest. What, she wasn’t sure, but from the warmth pooling in her chest, it was definitely a positive response.
But anyway, I’m really glad you reached out.
Me too.
And she truly meant it.
Sorry if it’s a bit late, I should have waited until the morning,
Nah, it’s fine.
But you probably want to get some sleep?
Yeah, I should.
Early day tomorrow, we go back on the road. But text me anytime, okay? I might not be able to reply right away, but I’ll always answer back. Feel free to ask me anything.
She bit her lip.
All right. I will. And you too. Ask me anything, I mean.
smile emoji> I hope you don’t regret that. I can be very nosy.
Haha.
All right, good night then.
Goodnight, Stella.
She continued staring at the phone until the screen turned dark. Smiling to herself, she thought, that wasn’t so bad. Text messaging with Devon felt oddly comforting, and there was no pressure at all.
Still, so many questions buzzed through her brain.
What about their parents? Were they still alive? Did they want to meet? Did they have a good reason for giving them up?
However, there one question that was deeply ingrained in her mind.
Did she even want to find out the answers?