“How have you kept Drea looking so good?” The woman didn’t seem a day over forty. Wolves might live a long time without aging—alphas even longer—but their mates eventually aged. Particularly if they weren’t wolf-shifters themselves, the category Drea belonged in.
“Magic. The woman is incredibly talented, as you can tell. She came up with the spell to make the wolves. She kept your mother bespelled. I never could have done any of this without her.”
“Why not just mate with her, then?” His father’s dark eyes seemed very far away like he was seeing another time, another place. Rex hoped the man got lost in his memories and never returned.
“As I said, I wanted a Kane woman. Nothing would work without a purebred wolf-shifter Kane woman. And Drea wanted her children to have power, real witch power. Not the subdued, half-breed type.”
“Our mother never knew, did she? She thought you were really her mate.” Kendrick nodded. “Except for a brief period of time. For some reason, she could, every once in a while, throw off her spell and see things more clearly. During one of those episodes, I believe she conceived you.”
Well, he had always wondered about his parentage. Hadn’t he asked his wolf a million times?
And I’ll answer you now as I asked you then—does it really matter?
“Who was he?” His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears.
“A thorn in my side. The spell should have kept him from knowing he was mated to her, too. Somehow they always were drawn to one another. I had to keep throwing him off the island to do errands. One time, however, they must have been clearheaded at the same time. And then you were born.”
“Who was he?” He wasn’t going to let Kendrick avoid his question.
“You never knew him. When you were conceived I had no choice but to kill him. I couldn’t have him looking at you and remembering something. No one understands the power of bloodlines better than me.”
“His name.” Rex may never have met the man, but someone would know him.
Cullen, Michael, someone. There would be someone left on Westervelt who could tell him about his true father.
“Rafael Dole.” Kendrick paced away from him. “When he was around, he stirred up endless amounts of trouble. Questioned me like he had the right. He could quote old laws giving pack elders the ability to question the sanity of their alpha. I wanted to eat him alive. Instead, I had my first batch of made wolves do it. He died screaming your mother’s name.”
Even though Rex had never met the man, he knew he would live to avenge him. It was the least he could do. Rafael had loved his mother. Had managed to break through the spell of a powerful witch. Rex would guess he fought all the way to the end.
Now?
Rex knew what his wolf asked. Almost. “How could our mother have gotten Angel to the island? She’s dead.” If he was going to get this information to Tristan, he needed all of it. Every last word out of the pompous lips of the man who had tormented so many for so long. It would be Rex’s pleasure to bring him to his knees.
“I got her one more time before she died. One more spell. She still hasn’t thrown me off. Stuck in the middle place, endlessly, until I release her. She has no choice but to do what I tell her. The twins hurt Angel, and that sent her to Westervelt, but I’m the reason she’s stayed. She thinks your mother wants her there helping.” Kendrick started to laugh, a full-bodied cackle of a man used to being completely in charge. Rex knew the man wasn’t the least bit afraid. Why should he be? All he could see was a weak wolf tied to a ceiling. It was time to give the man a different perspective.
Nodding to his wolf, he gave his consent. Now.
The white light moved around Rex. Faster than usual, he shifted into his wolf form.
The binds around his wrists couldn’t hold against the power of the shift. His father should have known that even if Drea didn’t. Or maybe he didn’t realize just how fast Rex could break any hold he was put in. Thanks to Gabriel, who had taught him as a child, in case he should ever need the skill.
On all fours, he growled. He could taste death in his mouth. His father’s, not his own. Usually, he wasn’t bloodthirsty. Killing was for prey and for circumstances where there was no other choice. This time? He knew he’d enjoy it.
“A fight to the death, then?” Kendrick lost his smirk. “I hadn’t thought you had it in you, boy. Maybe you are actually mine.”
No, he was Rafael Dole’s. He could feel the truth of it with absolute certainty.
Go.
His father shifted and they tore into each other. Flesh meeting flesh, blood mixing in the midst of their trauma. The hotel room had been a warm up and Rex had been distraught. Not now. All he wanted was death.