Wild Hunger (The Phoenix Pack, #7)(40)
Jaime looked at Taryn. “Don’t you just love the way she put the pieces together and just accepted it? She didn’t stew on it, didn’t worry on it, didn’t leap into a pit of denial. That’s just awesome.”
Taryn nodded in agreement. “I didn’t guess that Trey was my mate, because I’d believed that I lost mine when I was a kid.”
“I’ve had a crush on Dante for as long as I could remember,” began Jaime, “so my strong reaction to him didn’t seem weird or anything to overthink. I was used to it.”
Makenna spoke. “I knew Ryan was right when he said we were mates. I did, but I didn’t want to fully believe it in case I was wrong. The way you put it together reminds me a little of Ryan. He just added the facts, looked at it logically, and decided we were mates.”
Frankie didn’t believe it was logic that had helped her work it out. She had a creative mind and lived in a world full of possibilities, and that made her open to things.
“And you accept his claim on you?” Lydia asked.
“I’m not ready for the bond yet—Trick agrees with me on that—but I do accept that we’re mates,” said Frankie.
Lydia smiled, but then that smile faded as she asked, “Have you told the Newmans yet?”
“No.” And that was not a conversation that Frankie was looking forward to having. She didn’t have the slightest idea how she was going to break it to them that not only would she mate with a wolf, she would move to Phoenix Pack territory one day. They’d see it as abandonment, as her choosing a side, no matter what she said.
“Let’s face it, they’ll probably never accept Trick,” said Lydia. “But he won’t be the only one around here who has problems getting along with their mate’s family.”
“That’s true,” agreed Taryn. She flicked the kids—who were currently arguing over what DVD to watch—a quick glance before lowering her voice to add, “Trey would happily rip out my father’s throat.”
“And I’d eagerly beat the shit out of Dante’s brothers,” said Jaime, her voice just as low.
Makenna’s mouth flattened. “Ryan’s parents are total assholes—I let them know exactly what I thought of them.”
“And we’d all kick Greta’s ass if there wasn’t a risk that her brittle old bones would shatter,” said Taryn, at which the other females nodded firmly.
“Not that one!” shouted Kye, who was trying to snatch a DVD from Savannah. The little girl opened her mouth and screamed in his face. Kye howled at her.
Shaking with repressed laughter, Taryn clapped her hands to get their attention. “Kids, enough.” They hushed, shoulders slumping.
Stifling a smile, Frankie asked, “Don’t they spend their time with Riley?”
“She’s taking a shower, since Dexter got jam in her hair,” explained Makenna.
“Ah.” Frankie started to speak again, but then she noticed that all four kids were staring at her yet again. “Someone make them stop.”
“Have you chosen a DVD?” Taryn asked them. Like that, they turned back to the rack.
Hearing voices in the tunnels, Lydia spoke. “Seems like Iris is done talking with her visitors.”
Moments later, a plump, gray-haired woman walked in with three identical adult males. Spotting Lydia, the woman smiled. “There you are. We have to leave, I’m afraid.” As she caught sight of Frankie, her face lit up. “Oh, you must be Francesca. Iris has just been jabbering on about you.”
Lydia spoke. “Frankie, this is Clara—my godmother and honorary aunt. And these are her sons, Cruz, Eke, and Wendel. If you need to tell the triplets apart, just remember that Cruz is the one with an earring, Eke is the one with shoulder-length hair, and Wendel is the one with the scar on his forehead.”
Frankie forced a smile and said a quick greeting, hoping she was hiding that she was shockingly locked in an inner battle with her wolf. The moment the strangers walked in and the scent of rain, brine, and burned wood hit her nose, the animal had gone crazy. Snarled, growled, and swiped out with her claws. Her wolf wanted to surface and lunge. The scent had set her off—a scent that belonged to all three of them, since the triplets were identical.
Clara clasped her hands together. “You look so much like your mother it’s uncanny. Doesn’t she, boys?”
“It’s good that you’ve reconnected with the family,” said Eke.
Cruz nodded. “We’ve wanted that for a long time.”
“I have one of your sculptures in my cabin,” Wendel told her. “I bought it a few years back. Rosa.”
Eke looked at Wendel and tilted his head. “You mean the clay woman’s head? Her face is beautiful, but it’s rotting in places?”
“That’s the one,” said Wendel. His gaze returned to Frankie as he added, “The eyes—I don’t know how you did it, but whatever angle I stand at, I feel like its eyes are on me. Always feel like it’s looking right at me.”
“Oh, I’ve seen that piece,” said Clara. “I have to say, it scared me. I hope you’ll come for dinner sometime, Francesca. It would be lovely to get to know you.”
Frankie just smiled, thankful that Clara didn’t notice how strained the smile was. Wendel noticed, though. His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t comment. Only once the four Bjorn wolves disappeared down the tunnel with Jaime as their escort did Frankie’s wolf settle down.