Finding Wisp (Finding Us, #2)
Page 29
If I had known that dragging Thane out for a walk in an attempt to give Derek and his mate some time to talk in private would have been such a hassle, I probably wouldn’t have volunteered.
It didn’t help that the dog didn’t particularly like me. Not only could he sense that I was a predator, I didn’t think he’d forgotten the way I’d attacked Derek at my cottage nearly a fortnight ago.
As much as he seemed to enjoy shooting glares in my general direction, however, I think deep down he also knew that I wasn’t a threat – at least, not to him or either of his owners. (He may have been Derek’s in name, but his heart clearly belonged to that little girl.)
Wisp.
If I was honest with myself, the dog and his whining had absolutely nothing to do with my sour mood.
It was the girl.
Just thinking about her and the state Derek and I had found her in caused him to rage. The image of her bloody lip and shackled wrists – Jesus, her wrists – bruises peeking out around the sick parody of jewelry, were permanently burned into my brain.
I couldn’t believe I’d ever thought that she was a willing associate of the Vanderbilts.
Unfortunately, the blood and bruises weren’t the worst of it.
Wisp’s natural scent… it had changed since I’d last seen her perched under that tree. It was barely noticeable, the extra hint of bitterness, but there nonetheless.
It was the potent smell of pregnancy.
I just prayed that the cub growing inside of her was put there by Derek and not…
My brain revolted at the very thought.
Regardless, I knew Derek hadn’t noticed the subtle shift in her scent or everyone in that goddamn ostentatious house would have been dead.
Hell, I would have killed them.
I stared at my shaking hands.
They’d been trembling on and off ever since I’d caught the first whiff of smoke filling the house. (I had wondered what the hell Derek thought he was doing at the time, but now that I’d seen the state of her, I understood.) As much as I appreciated the poetic justice of his actions, however, the memories the smell of brimstone had brought back were far from pleasant.
The image of Fiona’s burnt corpse flashed through my mind, and I tensed when Thane whined again.
“Not yet,” I snapped. (Didn’t the dumb dog realize that I wanted to go back, too? I wanted to check on the girl as much as he did, but it wasn’t either of our duty to do so. It was Derek’s.)
I didn’t know why that thought affected me like it did, but before I knew it, I was smashing my fist against the unforgiving brick wall of the alleyway Thane and I had wandered into. Mortar crumbled, and a sharp jolt of pain laced up my arm.
I stared blankly at my bloody knuckles before wiping them indifferently against the pant leg of the suit I still wore.
I would talk to the girl in the morning about the change in her scent and see what she had to say. If the cub was Derek’s, I would leave the situation in her hands. But if it wasn’t Derek’s… I would go back to that burnt husk of a house and do what the man should have done in the first place and rip everyone who lived there to shreds.
* * *
It wasn’t until Derek and I had brought Wisp back to Pine Ridge and I got the chance to observe her in what I considered her natural environment that I realized why we – the bear and I – were so preoccupied with the girl – why she pulled at our heartstrings in a way that no one, not even Derek, had been able to do since the fire.
She looked like her.
Like Fiona.
The resemblance wasn’t obvious, and it didn’t jump out at you at first glance – it had taken me days to see it. But it was undeniable once you recognized it for what it was.
I saw my dead wife in the slightness of her frame, in the freckles spattered across the bridge of her nose, in the red that highlighted her hair whenever the sunshine caught it just right.
I knew Derek didn’t like it, the way I would look at her, and I could practically feel the suspicion – the paranoia – oozing off of him whenever he caught me staring for too long. (Which was often.)
Even after he called me out on it, though – accusing me of lusting after an eighteen-year-old (it was so far from the truth that part of me had wanted to fucking laugh in his face) – I found that I couldn’t stop looking.
* * *
Wisp’s usually creamy skin looked pale even against the dull green sheets of the hospital bed, and staring into the pallid complexion of the girl that Derek and I had failed, I didn’t think I had felt more useless in the past seventeen years.
Taking in the cast that covered the lower half of her right arm and knowing that even more ghastly injuries were hiding under the gown she was wearing… it was almost enough to make me wish that I had ignored Derek’s instructions to stay with Thane and had gone with him to confront Felix instead.
Surely if I had, I could have done something to prevent… this.
By now, I shouldn’t have been surprised by the enormity of the emotions I felt towards the girl, but somehow, the rush of relief that slammed into me when she began to stir for the first time in half a week still took my breath away.
I watched as she pealed open her eyes, her brow furrowed in confusion as she sluggishly glanced around the room before her gaze finally landed on Derek.
The man had fallen asleep, draped protectively over her body, for what had to have been the first time since Wisp had been taken to the hospital.
A misplaced (fucking ridiculous) spark of jealousy flickered down my spine when her eyes didn’t move from him.
Staring at the two of them, the altruistic part of me knew I should have woken Derek – told him that Wisp was awake. But in the end, it was the selfish part of me – the part that wanted Wisp’s eyes on me – that took control.
“Wisp?” I spoke into the silence of the room.
The girl started before her eyes darted left to meet mine. Staring into her brown gaze, it was obvious that she was still drowsy, her mind still cloudy from the intense cocktail of drugs – pain medications, mostly – the doctors had forced into her. I was sure they were also responsible for the word that slipped out of her mouth next. “Dad?” she muttered tiredly.
My insides froze.
I could tell she realized her mistake almost immediately, a nervous energy befalling her.
I worked to swallow down the lump of emotion the word had caused to swell in my throat – grief, regret, yearning – before she could work herself up too much.
“No, darling, it’s Abram.”
Darling? I thought perplexedly. I hadn’t known that such a word was in my vocabulary.
“I’m sorry…” Wisp slurred.
“It’s alright,” I assured, unable to stop my hand from reaching forward of its own accord and smoothing back her hair. (And surprisingly, it was. Alright, that is.)
Her forehead was warm – a fever caused by the drugs, no doubt. I told her about them – the mix of painkillers they’d injected her with – making sure to keep my voice low and soothing as I continued to run my fingers through her hair.
When her eyes began to drift shut, I told her to sleep, which she did.
But even after her breaths had evened out, I couldn’t bring myself to remove my hand from her hair. I didn’t know I could feel like this anymore – my heart so full and aching all at once.
The feeling was almost enough to drown out the voice in the back of my head telling me that this was wrong. What are you doing? it demanded incredulously. Wisp is Derek’s to care for, not yours.
I knew that the voice was right; I did. But that didn’t stop me from continuing to card my fingers through Wisp’s soft hair, some secret part of me wishing, as I stared at the sleeping girl, that Wisp’s slip of tongue hadn’t been a slip at all.
END
Finding Family, the sequel to Finding Wisp, is due to be released in 2018. To be notified of its release ASAP, as well as to receive exclusive offers and learn abo
ut other releases by Noelle Marie, please sign up for her mailing list here.
Other books by Noelle Marie, including a completed shifter series entitled Once Bitten, Twice Shy, can be found here.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Noelle Marie is a full time stay-at-home mom and a part time writer. When not being driven wonderfully mad by her three adorable (read: deranged) children or staring woefully at her keyboard, she can be found curled up in a comfy chair reading a book or attempting to bake in the kitchen. Occasionally she might be pestered into golfing with her husband, but is largely an embarrassment to the sport.
To learn more about Noelle and stay up to date on her current projects, you can sign up for her mailing list here. Noelle’s Facebook page can also be found here.