Page 208 of His Hungry Wolf

“My father, he said my mother died during child birth.”

“Well, mine’s still alive.”

“Could she be my mother too, Quin. Can you tell?”

Quin kneeled and pushing his fingers through my hair. The gentle look in his eyes filled me with love.

“I wish I could tell you that. I could barely sense you two are related.”

Quin helped me to my feet. When he did, I noticed something was different. I looked around and found my cast a few feet away. On top of that, my once broken leg felt perfect.

I turned to Nero whose eyes bounce between Quin and me. I stared back slowing getting dressed. When I finally found my voice, I asked,

“Did your mother ever talk about having a kid before you? Did she ever talk about someone like me?”

Nero’s eyes narrowed. “Why’d you come here?”

“I told you. We came here because I followed a scent to this town,” Quin repeated.

“No. I mean, why did you come here tonight? You tellin’ me that you just showed up here by accident?”

“We came looking for you,” I told him.

“I figured that. Why?”

I looked over at Quin.

“Because Dr. Tom told me that I should talk to you.”

“Dr. Tom?” Nero said suddenly rattled.

“Yeah. I saw him yesterday. I was asking to meet another wolf shifter and he mentioned you. When we asked Titus about you, he brought us here.”

Nero looked up at Titus who said, “Dr. Tom asked me to find out what I could about them and I gave them a tour. I didn’t know about any of this. But, you know with Dr. Tom, nothing is a coincidence.”

“I asked you if your mother has ever talked about someone like me,” I said feeling anger bubble up knowing he had ignored my question.

“You’re not meeting my mother!” Nero said looking like he wanted to shift.

Titus put himself between us and took grip of Nero’s shoulders.

“Nero, you gotta relax.”

“He’s talking about meeting my mother. I’m not gonna let him do that. You know she can’t handle that.”

“What’s wrong with your mother?” I asked.

“She’s not… well,” Titus explained.

“Your mother’s sick?” I said feeling the empty feeling of a rug being pulled from under me.

“No. I’m not saying a god damn thing more. Prove to me this shit is real. Prove to me you’re who you say you are.”

“You want to see our I.D.s?” I asked.

“I don’t want to see your fuckin’ I.D.s. I want you to prove to me that anything you said is real.”

“How are we supposed to do that?” I asked him hoping he would be reasonable.