Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
Dinner
I twist my hands and John’s big, warm hand engulfs both of mine to stop me from fiddling. He gives me a reassuring squeeze as we wait for the door to open. I’m the one that should be holding his hand, supporting him…but God, I’m so bloody nervous.
I haven’t seen John’s sister for a while—not as myself anyway and meeting his pack, his only pack, as his mate is scary. She’s been avoiding John like the plague, but after asking Ava to make a few telephone calls, I scored the dinner that I promised him.
Inside the house there is a shout: “I’ll get it.” My lips twitch at the sound of running feet, socked feet scampering across what I presume is a wooden floor. There’s a small squeak, a thump, and the door in front of us shudders. A muffled, “Shit.”
I glance at John, and he shakes his head and smirks. I snigger. Whoever is hurrying to answer must have skidded into the door.
With a click, the door is flung open and my heart jumps.
It misses a beat and I swallow and squeeze John’s hand for reassurance as her energy batters against me.
I lock my knees to stop myself from almost taking a step back as her shifter energy crashes aggressively against my senses.
It has an innocent, playful quality, but beyond that innocence is sheer power. Her energy is violent, twisted.
Forrest.
A tiny woman peeks up at us through a curtain of pale-pink hair that is covering almost her entire face.
She puffs and blows rapidly to get the thick, long strands out of her eyes.
When that doesn’t work, she bats the hair away into some semblance of order with delicate hands.
I toothily grin as I take in her now-uncovered, pretty face.
Beautiful but strangely coloured eyes regard us. Her eyes are disconcerting, mismatched—they are not quite gold, and the right eye has a touch of green that the other doesn’t. It’s a small sliver of green at the bottom of her iris. The impact of her eyes makes it difficult to look at her directly.
But I force myself to.
Even with her mountain of pale-pink hair, the cute unicorn jumper, leggings, fluffy wolf socks, and a growing sweet smile, my demon senses tingle and my instincts scream at me to run back to the portal and go home.
She’s not what she seems…she is dangerous.
The pretty facade of the cutesy pink-haired shifter is a ruse to trick the unwary.
Oh, and she is way more powerful than John.
With twinkling eyes she smiles brightly. She tilts her head to the side and looks me up and down, her complete attention laser-focused on me. On purpose, she deliberately ignores her brother.
“I remember you…you’re the angel that saved me.
” Her voice is a shock, so rough and guttural for such a small woman.
You would think it would match the pink hair, soft, girly.
But instead, it matches her energy and the flashes of hardness that I catch every so often in her eyes.
“I remember being frightened, broken. I was so lost in my head, in my pain, and then you appeared, with that beautiful blonde hair.” Forrest blinks her big gold eyes and points at my hair.
“The light from the corridor behind you made it look like you had a halo…you smelled of horses. You brought me back into the world. Pulled me out of that prison and out of my head. For years I used to dream about you. I thought I’d made you up.
” She says all this with a nod of her head.
Tears fill her eyes and I blink my own away.
“I’m sorry…I’m sorry I forgot about you,” she whispers.
Like all those years ago, my heart drops and my stomach clenches and before I’ve realised that I’ve moved…I rush forward, open my arms, and wrap them around her. Forrest throws her arms around my waist and hugs me back with a strength that takes my breath away.
“It’s okay, pup.” The words from long ago stick in my tight throat and my voice cracks with emotion. I stroke back the mass of pink hair and gently kiss the top of her head.
Moments pass in comfortable silence. Forrest then stands on her toes and moves my hair away from my ear, and she whispers, “Ava told me it was you…Mr Brown? Thank you, Emma.”
“You’re welcome. I’m sorry I didn’t do more,” I say with another hug and a sniffle.
Forrest steps away, and more loudly she says, “You’re so badass, you need a theme tune.
” She nods her head as if her comment is completely understandable.
I frown down at her, wipe away my tears, and scratch the back of my head.
My lips tug themselves into a small, confused smile.
I need a theme tune? Uh-huh. I look at John for clarification; he shrugs and gives me a small smile. He is equally confused.
Finally, Forrest follows my gaze, and she takes in her brother, who is waiting patiently at my side.
With a curl of her lip, she growls out, “Arsehole.”
It’s then that a man calls from deeper inside the house, “Forrest, let our guests inside, you’re being rude.” His voice rumbles and the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
Oh bloody hell, this will not be a normal dinner.
Forrest’s mouth forms a perfect O and with a roll of her eyes, she grabs John’s and my hands and pulls us inside.