Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

M ax spent the next few days prowling around the big empty house, feeling grouchy and unsettled. He had so much to do, but his brain wouldn’t focus on any of it.

When Mrs. Bates came in to cook up meals to freeze for him, he hung around in the kitchen, chatting to her about inconsequential things, just for the company.

“Where’s your lovely assistant?” Mrs. Bates said, her bright brownie eyes curious as she threw chunks of meat into a pot.

“She’s taken a few days out, gone back to Tween to see her family.”

“Shame, she’s a ray of sunlight, that girl.”

Max stalked off.

Looking around his study at the scattered papers and texts covered in colored sticky notes, he knew he should start writing the preface of his book, but gods, he had writer’s block like never before.

Ever since Charlie had arrived, it felt like his carefully orchestrated life was sliding out of his grasp. His usually ordered mind was hijacked by images of her beautiful body, her sweet smile, her wicked sense of humor, and her way of calling him out on his stuffy, old-fashioned views. The sweet taste of her lingered on his tongue. His nights were filled with dreams of making love to her. He resisted his cock, even though he woke with the hard-on from hell every morning. Tried instead to be cerebral, to sort this out the way he’d always sorted his problems out. With logic.

He told himself that this was simply lust.

But it was so much more than lust. He missed her, badly. Like a part of him had gone missing.

What if instead of being a dangerous evil beast, his wolf was simply trying to lead him toward happiness… toward love ?

The word lodged itself in his mind, and however hard he tried to focus on his reading, the thought wouldn’t go away.

Whether he liked to admit it or not, he was falling in love with Charlie.

His wolf clearly knew that, even if the learned professor was being remarkably dumb.

A sharp ring on the doorbell kicked his head up from his desk, a pulse in his neck thumping wildly. Had she come back early? Striding to the front door, Max flung it open, and his heart dropped to see a courier standing there with a package.

“Special book delivery. From Motham Palace, sir,” the goblin said. “Please sign.”

Max took the package to his office and opened it with care. The book inside was called The History of the Wolf Mutiny , written by a well-known chronicler of the day, Hughenden Filps, a griffin.

He turned a few pages, but for once, his heart was not in the past. At least, not Motham’s past—it was his own history he needed answers to.

Benjy’s words after the Hunt barbecue taunted him. There are two sides to every story. Right now, he needed to get to the bottom of his own story, didn’t he? To question the beliefs his mom had fed him his whole life. The rhetoric of being a lone wolf. A sigma. Of not needing a mate.

Call me when you’re ready to talk , Benjy had said.

Well, heck, he was ready now.

With a muttered curse, Max put the book to one side, grabbed his cell off the cluttered desk and messaged Benjy.

Need to talk. When are you free?

The response came back immediately.

How about lunch time?

Which was how Max found himself seated at a tacky plastic table in a café in the East Quarter at half past midday, drinking black coffee and drumming the tabletop impatiently with his fingertips. A motley array of species came in to buy their lunchtime snacks, casting sideways glances at his smart linen jacket and pants, his cashmere scarf. Yeah, okay, so he looked out of place, that was a given. But he wasn’t going to dress like a fucking feral to fit in around here.

Benjy turned up in overalls, covered in engine oil. “I just had to pick up a smash in the Wastelands. Another stolen car.” He grimaced. “The feral gangs are worse than ever right now.”

Max would agree with that, but he decided not to mention the feral pack he’d scattered on Saturday. Way too complicated.

A wizened little demon put a pie and chips in front of Benjy, and he cocked an eyebrow at Max as he tucked in. “Did you just feel like buying me lunch, or is this about our chat on Saturday?”

Max got straight to the point. “Yeah, it’s been troubling me since we spoke. I need some answers from you. About the past. Specifically, about my mom’s past.”

Benjy said through a mouthful, “Fire away.”

“She always told me she didn’t know who my father was. I need to know, Benjy.” He shoved his glasses up his nose and stared at his cousin hollowly. “Was my mom forced into the ruts with multiple partners?”

Benjy dropped his knife and fork. “No!” He almost howled the word. “Gods, she loved to twist the facts to suit her, did Angelika.”

Max drew in a deep breath. “So… what happened?”

“Your mom was rejected.”

“By whom?”

“The guy she loved. Your father.”

Max stared, bewildered. “But Mom had no idea who she fell pregnant to.”

“Like hell she didn’t.” Benjy guffawed. “She was obsessed with the guy.”

“Who?”

“Alec Felcin.”

Max froze. “A Felcin. Y-you mean, the mountain Felcins?”

“Yep. Turbo stud Alec, as we used to call him, always came down from the mountains to the ruts. He was a great big alpha male; a real drawcard for the ladies.”

Max could hardly believe what he was hearing. He felt as if the world as he knew it had suddenly been pulled from under his feet. “Do you have any proof?”

Benjy dug out an envelope from his top dungaree pocket, pulled out a few faded snapshots and dropped them on the table between them. “I’ve been holding on to these for when you were ready to hear the truth.”

Max picked them up. Frowning, he perused them closely.

One of the photos showed his mom, much younger and very beautiful, gazing up at a handsome, muscle-bound guy wearing leathers, with his long hair bound back in a ponytail.

Another showed the same guy on a motorbike. Mom on the back.

Max stared at it, unblinking, for long moments. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

Benjy shrugged, shoveled another mouthful in before answering. “Too proud. Too stubborn. But, believe me, she wanted to be Alec’s mate. That’s why she left you here for weeks over the summer when you were a kid. Went off roaming up to the mountains to find him, didn’t she?”

“I thought she was going out there… to feed her creativity.”

Benjy snorted. “Yeah, well she was feeding a need, for sure… He might have fucked her again, who knows, but he never chose to be with her.” Benjy’s affable face tightened. “When you were ten, Alec died. Your mom was devastated. Easier to take her pain out on hating us Hunts after that, I guess. She refused to come back here ever again. Refused to let you visit us, even though we begged her. Maybe being with us just reminded her of all those summers chasing Alec around the mountains.”

Max shook his head, trying to make sense of it all. “So you’re saying my father, who I never knew, is dead.”

“Believe so.” Benjy shrugged. “Though getting any news from the mountain wolves is nigh on impossible. Killed by ogres, maybe? If your mom knew the truth, she certainly never told any of us. Your grandpa and grandma reached out to her often enough, but after Alec’s death, she barely spoke to any of us again.”

“I—oh, shit.” Max dropped his head into his hands. This was impossibly hard to hear; those images so hard to see. If Benjy was telling the truth—and Max had no reason to believe otherwise—that meant his mother had lied to him all these years about his parentage. Pretended she had never loved, when in fact she had been consumed by it. And worst of all, who she had loved was a bitter pill to swallow.

A Felcin wolf.

“That makes me a descendent of the original Colonel Oliver Felcin.” Max sat back in his chair, dazed. “He was a traitor to Athelrose’s army, did you know that?”

Benjy’s mouth twisted. “I did go to school once, mate. Felcin was a bit of a rogue, for sure. But when he was banished to the mountains after the mutiny failed, his pack did a great job of keeping the ogres at bay. Still do, some say. We owe ’em, for helping to keep those bastards out of Motham. Hell, can you imagine adding fucking ogres into the mix here?”

Max scraped wild hands through his hair. “This is awful.”

“Granted, it’s a bit to take in all at once.”

Max just sat there shaking his head, and finally, Benjy rolled his eyes. “For the love of all the hounds in hell, drop the drama, cuz. Look at you, dicking around in all this fancy designer gear with your snout stuck up your ass. Agreed, you’re mighty clever, just like your mom was, but you’re still wolf in your bones and sinews, and in your heart.” He reached over and, to Max’s surprise, tapped a big finger into his chest. “Your alpha is alive and well in there.”

“I am not alpha.” Max gripped his coffee cup so hard it was amazing it didn’t crack.

“Gah, it’s bloody obvious you are. Janine noticed it. We all noticed it. You really gotta stop hanging onto all that sigma shit, it’ll just lead to unhappiness.”

Max thinned his lips. Benjy sure didn’t pull his punches.

Except… whether he liked it or not, everything was starting to fall into place. Why he’d experienced these sudden wild urges to rut with Charlie. The sense of power and elation he’d felt in his wolf form. The ease with which he fought off those ferals to rescue her.

It all came from the Felcin blood running through his veins.

The need to tell Benjy what had happened to him barreled up his throat. Here he was, sitting in this seedy little café in East Motham thinking of confiding in his hairy cousin. The idea seemed ridiculous, but when he looked up, Benjy’s eyes were kind and full of understanding, and he needed— really needed—to get all this off his chest.

“Something happened,” Max gulped out, “the other night. With my research assistant… the human?—”

Benjy pushed his plate away and sat forward, big elbows on the table. “The one I heard you talking to when I rang that time?”

Max nodded. “She got attacked by a feral gang in the Wastelands. Saturday night, right after I left you guys. I was heading home and I—and I—I scented her fear. I knew she was in danger. And the next fucking moment, I transformed into my wolf.”

“First time?”

“Yeah.” Max gave a thin laugh. “Can you believe it?”

“The wolf goes weak if it’s not around pack.” Benjy shrugged. “Was it painful?”

“Agony, in those first moments. A little easier turning back to human, but not much.” He had an inkling being around Charlie had helped soothe the process, but he wasn’t going to say as much.

“Gets easier the more it happens. Go on.”

“I—I rescued her—as my wolf—and when I got her home, I shifted back and… let’s just say things got pretty intense.”

“Did you... and her…?” Benjy waggled his eyebrows.

Max shook his head, not daring to meet Benjy’s gaze.

“The need for sexual relief can be overpowering after…” Benjy said.

Max watched his knuckles whiten around his coffee cup. “Yep.”

“Makes them hot for it too. Being rescued by a big shaggy wolf does something to the female hormones, y’know.”

“Yep.”

“Ah, well, there you are.” Benjy crossed his big arms over his chest and sat back, looking smug.

“What do you mean, there you are?” Max scowled.

“She’s your mate. That level of telepathic awareness only happens with your mate.” Benjy said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. “What you need to do now is rut her.”

“Not on your life.” Max avoided Benjy’s amused grin. “We haven’t… for the gods’ sake, nothing’s happened.” That was clearly a lie, and Benjy wasn’t stupid. He was used to being around wolves, after all.

Benjy gave an easy shrug. “Suit yourself. But all levels are catered for at the rut. From rampant lust to true love. We can reserve you a special log cabin. Total privacy. It’s a safe place to let your wolf out.”

Max lost his cool. “Fuck off, will you, Benjy.”

“No need to get snarly. Just trying to help. You’re like an over-wound watch, fella. It’s obvious you need a good rutting.”

Silently, Max seconded that. He was so sexually frustrated right now, forget blue balls, he reckoned even his knot was turning blue.

“I need to go,” he said, standing. “Give my regards to Janine, Taryn, the rest of the pack.”

“Will do. Where is your little mate now?”

“My research assistant .”

“Whatever you wanna keep calling her.”

“I—I sent her away for a week so I can work this through. And to keep her safe from my—my, er, erratic behaviors. I needed to uncover the truth, and seems I have. Thanks for seeing me, Benjy, it’s answered some questions, and given me a whole lot more to worry about.”

“Don’t intellectualize all this too much, mate. You need to let your true nature out. It will do more harm if you repress it.”

Max looked at him uncertainly. But seeing Benjy, his relaxed energy, his easy smile, his vibrant eyes, he had to wonder…

Benjy was hardly what you’d call dangerous. He was affable, big-hearted. And most definitely in touch with his wolf, comfortable with its presence. It was kind of a relief to know that could happen, even though Max wasn’t willing to say that aloud.

As they left the café, Benjy gave him a hug and a slap on the back and Max managed not to check if he’d left oil marks on his jacket.

Then Benjy turned toward the smog of East Motham and Max headed for leafy Motham Hill.

He needed to go home and read up on General Oliver Felcin.

And make sense of where he came from.