He fell in love with Favianne and had planned to turn her so they could always be together, but then she’d become ill. He resigned himself to having her only a few more years when he learned she was pregnant.
I finished the letter, then read the ending once more.
This, Zack, and the other books your mother gave you, is all you have left of me. Use the knowledge wisely. More importantly, stay free. Value your right to create your own path and not be a part of a pack. Don’t make the same choices I made. Don’t join the king and don’t become a scout. Run, if you must. And above all else, never trust a werewolf. No matter how nice they seem, how convincing they are or what they promise you — it’s a lie. Never trust another werewolf.
Know that I am there with you in spirit and remember I loved you more than I could say.
Lucio Gavino De Luca
“Wow. I’m sorry.” Tears pricked my eyes. I didn’t know what else to say and couldn’t decide whether Zack’s father should be vilified or praised. Perhaps a little of both. “Your mom must’ve read this and thought it was pretty weird.”
Zack abandoned the book in his hand and moved over to sit with me on the sofa. “She thought he was quite creative for making up such wild stories for me.”
“He had a tragic life, trapped for centuries on a path he shouldn’t have chosen.” I snuggled closer in the blanket, thinking if I should adjust the thermostat now. Before I froze to death. “No wonder you’ve decided to run.”
“Which I think is why he told the story the way he did. He wanted me to know the ugly truth, so I wouldn’t make the same choices. My mom describes him very differently. The way she tells it, he was an honorable man who loved life and was always happy to spend every waking moment home with us. She was madly in love with him. Still is.” He smiled, a faraway look in his eyes.
“I remember worshipping him,” Zack continued, “and being so excited when he’d come home after a long business trip, although at the time I had no idea he was a werewolf or a scout. He spent a lot of time with me when he was home. He’d carry me on his shoulders everywhere we went. Sometimes, we’d work on the car together or we’d go fishing.”
“Sounds like maybe he was a good guy, or trying to be.”
Zack stared at the old letter still in my hands. “Or not. He was a scout, doing the king’s dirty work. Even a bad person can love his wife and son. People can get good at hiding their true selves. And my mom... Love can be blind, so her version isn’t all that reliable. Besides, he told me not to trust werewolves. He didn’t exclude himself, because he knew werewolves aren’t good.”
I dropped the papers in my lap and turned to face Zack at the other end of the sofa. “You’ll never convince me you’re not good, Zack.”
“If I was, then why did I bully Daniel the first time I caught him harassing you? He didn’t physically provoke me, but he ended up shoved up against the locker anyway.”
“You’re not bad,” I repeated.
“I’ve done bad things.” He shook his head. “I was a total ass to you when we first met and you didn’t deserve it.”
“We’ve all made mistakes or made wrong decisions, whether human or werewolf. That doesn’t make you evil. Real evil people don’t feel bad about what they’ve done and they don’t try to change.” I didn’t want Zack living with guilt when he already has so much to deal with, but I didn’t want to get on a soapbox either.
My hand had slowly curled around his, but since he hadn’t flinched and removed his hand, I left it there. “How did your dad die?”
With his other hand, he played with my pinky ring. “I’m not sure. My mom won’t talk about it. All I knew was that one day he never came home.” His gaze dropped to my mouth.
Butterflies danced in my belly and I refocused. “I can’t imagine what that must be like, to lose a parent that way.”
“Hopefully, you’ll never know.”
“I wish things were different for you, that your dad was still around and you didn’t have to run alone.”
He stopped twirling my ring and covered my hand with his. “I still miss him.”
“I’m so sorry, Zack,” I said softly.
My blanket had fallen to my waist and I shivered. His free hand skimmed my shoulder and traveled down my arm to my elbow, the warmth of his skin sending another shiver through my body.
Breaking contact, he took the papers from me and set them on the coffee table. Then he nudged the blanket aside and captured my hips, pulling me down so I lay flat. He hovered over me as if suspended in midair. My gaze locked onto his. I held my breath, waiting as he gradually eased his weight over me. Our lips a breath away, he closed his eyes and slowly inhaled, then opened them again and met my gaze.