Chapter 12
Kahn wondered why he bothered taking calls from his father anymore; Josiah never changed, constantly heaping guilt on him for leaving the pack.
What the fuck did he expect me to do when he kept denying who I am?
He walked over to the bank of windows in his studio, staring at the cityscape below him, but failed to find the serenity it usually brought him.
When his father insisted he mate with a woman, Kahn sought his mother’s advice and, at her urging, loaded his car with his finished canvases, paints, art supplies and personal belongings.
Then, after saying good-bye to his sisters and kissing his mother, he got into his car and left the pack for good.
Driving through the night, he found himself in San Francisco where he settled.
Finally free of his father’s impossible demands, the darkness in him wasn’t reflected in his work anymore.
Instead, his use of lighter colors resonated with joy and his personal happiness, by being true to himself, showed in every piece he painted.
And while his work had begun to gain attention when he lived in the pack, it was nothing like what was happening now—his vibrant paintings were beginning to wow the art world.
Since setting up his studio, Kahn had been featured in several galleries as a newly discovered artist and that, along with several articles in the local papers, had boosted the demand for his watercolors which were now selling for more than he’d ever imagined.
But all that meant nothing to his father.
Turning away from the window, Kahn gazed at the painting he’d been working on before his father called, but with the anger burning inside him, he knew his work day was done.
Gathering his brushes, he rinsed them before setting them out to dry.
While straightening up his studio, he was drawn back to the half-finished painting, losing himself in the colors of the sky.
Kahn’s finger reached out, needing to touch the scene, feeling the beauty of the moment all over again, just as his wolf first experienced it on an early morning run.
He felt such a strong affinity with the painting, he’d decided to keep it for his personal collection.
Damn him! Even this far away my father has the power to fuck me over.
Dropping down on a stool, he thought about his mother’s advice to move away, preferable to the east coast, but then remembering his father’s erratic behavior; he didn’t want to leave her or his sisters without anyone who could help them escape should his father go completely insane.
Snorting, Kahn was surprised he even thought that, since he’d never heard of wolf shifters going mad, but there wasn’t any other way to explain his father’s actions.
It began the night he learned Jackson and his brothers had killed everyone in their pack.
The image of his father covered in blood, would forever be embedded in his mind as he listened to Rudy, their head enforcer, tell what his father saw and tried to stop.
And that it was a miracle his father escaped with his life.
Kahn’s rage at his cousins that night was all-consuming and when his father gave the kill order, he was all for it.
But somewhere along the line, he began to have doubts his father was telling the truth about what really happened.
The first time he felt something was amiss occurred one night at dinner when his father was pounding the table about his enforcers failing to find Jackson.
Bored, he glanced over at his mother, seeking permission to leave the table when he saw an expression cross her face.
Fascinated, he remained, keeping his eyes on her.
After dinner, he asked her what she knew about the massacre but the pain that filled her face caused him to back off and change the subject.
From that point on, Kahn paid close attention to dinner conversations, eventually concluding his father was hiding something, but what?
It was still a mystery. Sighing, he rose, heading to the living space he’d carved out of the large room, stripping as he went.
First a shower, then I’ll see if the guys are going out tonight.
Letting the water stream over his tight muscles, Kahn allowed his thoughts to stray, focusing only on where to go and what to eat.
~/~/~/~/~
After finishing his paperwork for the day, Hunter hit the fridge to get a couple of beers before heading outside, needing the peace he found there to help sort out questions in his mind for which he had no answers.
As he passed a door, he heard his brother, Robin, still singing the same tune he’d been playing in the morning.
Stopping, he poked his head in and found him in his usual place, next to the bed, softly strumming and singing.
Hearing the door open, Robin glanced at Hunter, giving him a sad smile as he continued, his eyes turning away from the anguish reflected in his brother’s face.
Quietly shutting the door, Hunter leaned against the wall, sorrow swallowing him up again.
Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, he swore as one tear escaped his efforts to suppress it, then, swallowing hard, he wiped his face, straightened up and headed to the front porch where he found Mason already there.
Passing a beer to his brother, Hunter claimed a chair and popped his open, taking a long slug before lowering it.
His eyes wandered as he watched the night’s darkness silently fill the woods, finally finding the peace that had eluded him during the day.
Mason sipped his beer, sitting silently while occasionally glancing at his brother, making sure their nightly ritual was having the desired effect.
It started after their mother died. After one particularly trying day, Mason pushed Hunter out the door, telling him to sit his ass in a chair while he grabbed some beers for them.
Hunter needlessly yelled at Quin that day for something insignificant, and Mason finally saw how much their mother had carried on her shoulders—and how much she had hidden from them.
By the time Hunter agreed they needed to see Jackson, the situation was becoming critical, and now, according to Mac, they had very little time left.
“Did you arrange to see the RVs tomorrow?” asked Hunter.
“Yup. Sawyer and I will be leaving around seven,” Mason answered.
“Good.”
“Mac gave me a list of what we need,” Mason added.
“Good.”
Figuring their conversation had ended, Mason leaned his head back, closing his eyes, allowing the magic of darkness to calm Hunter so he could sleep tonight.
~/~/~/~/~
Scanning the sky, Reif knew he was getting close to the white dragon because its energy continued to grow stronger.
His excitement grew as he increased his speed to close the distance between them.
Wait till I tell Father! He’ll be fucking freaked out!
According to their history, the last one had died about 2,000 years ago and as far as the elders knew, the gods refused to send another after what happened to the last one.
But it was obvious they had relented—which is why there was one flying near him right now.
Why can’t I see him? Reif flew higher, then, glided downward in ever increasing circles, hoping to locate it, but was unable to sight the white dragon.
Gaining altitude to repeat his maneuver, he tried to remember what he’d heard about them, wondering if they also had his ability to avoid being seen.
Suddenly his beast tumbled towards the ground and Reif fought frantically to gain control but was unable to pull him out of his spin.
Making one last powerful effort, Reif succeeded and, as they once again headed skyward, he realized what a close call they’d had when he felt the tops of tree branches brush against his beast’s belly.
Looking behind him, he saw a huge black dragon with glowing red eyes, roaring in his direction, flames shooting out of its mouth.
Shocked that someone could see him, he checked his ability; he was still concealed.
So how did the dragon know where I was? Gaining altitude, Reif flew away, seeking to put some distance between himself and his attacker.
Unwilling to chance another encounter, he continued on a course that led back to his car, taking one last backward look.
And then he saw him. A white luminescent dragon flying next to the black one.
Overwhelm with excitement, Reif increased his speed, eager to get home.
~/~/~/~/~
After Fionn had landed and shifted, Logan followed suit, allowing Kieran to slide off before shifting. Turning to his mate, Logan asked, “Babe, are you all right?”
“I am, but what happened?” asked Kieran.
“Yeah, why were you attacking nothing?” Fionn asked.
“Because the ‘nothing’ ran into me, at least I’m assuming so.
All I know is that I felt a tremendous blow on the side of my dragon…
so hard I almost flipped over. By the time I regained my balance, I couldn’t see what hit me so I wasn’t attacking as much as roaring in frustration.
Did you guys see anything?” asked Logan.
“I was in front of you, so that would be a ‘no’ for me,” Fionn answered.
“Macushla, are you okay?” asked Kieran, running his hands over his mate to check for injuries.
“I’m fine, babe,” Logan said, taking his mate’s hands and kissing them. “Fi, do you sense anything?”
Fionn was silent, concentrating, then shrugging his shoulders, said, “Yeah, but it’s heading away from us…also, whatever it is, it’s not like other dragons I’ve sensed.”
“Is it a dragon?” asked Kieran.
“Maybe. But if it is, I don’t know what kind,” Fionn answered.
“It’s Brian’s mate!” exclaimed Kieran, bouncing on his toes.
“Whoa, babe. It might be but then maybe not. What would his mate be doing out here, far from the loch?” Logan asked.