Wild Hunger (The Phoenix Pack, #7)(46)

When he’d pulled up outside the house, Trick had guessed that the Lexus at the end of her driveway belonged to either Frankie’s uncle or her grandparents. He’d also figured that there was a good chance that her ex had called them about her date with Trick. So the sound of raised voices had come as no surprise to him.

He’d been ready to step in and defend his mate whether she needed it or not. What he hadn’t been prepared for was the pain in her voice as she’d spoken of how terrified she’d been during her first shift. The words rang with the sense of isolation and loneliness she’d felt back then. It had gutted Trick and his wolf. Absolutely gutted them.

What made it worse was that her maternal family had known how frightened she’d been. They’d done nothing. One phone call. They could have made one fucking phone call, and Lydia would have been at her side to help her through it. But they didn’t. And then for Geoffrey to so coldly and scornfully snipe that she should get a “real job” was the icing on the fucking cake.

Anger surged through Trick, heating his blood. He stalked into the kitchen, fisted Geoffrey’s collar, and literally hauled the flailing human down the hallway and through to Frankie’s studio. There Trick shoved him toward the hellhorse sculpture. “Look. Look.”

Geoffrey looked at it, and he actually did a double take.

“Frankie made that. Not just physically. She created it up here.” Trick tapped his temple. “Tell me that’s nothing. Tell me you’ve ever made something like that in your life. Tell me you could ever create something like that with not only your own two hands, but with your brain. You can’t, can you? That’s not a simple hobby. It’s a gift. A skill. One that’s appreciated worldwide by galleries, artists, critics, and art lovers. But her biggest fans should have been you, your wife, and your son. If nothing else, she should have had your support and respect. Because that kind of creativity and skill is worth a hell of a lot of respect. Am I wrong?”

“You’re not wrong,” conceded Geoffrey, but his voice was void of emotion.

“Then why doesn’t she have it?” Trick demanded. “Why won’t you give her the credit she’s due?”

Geoffrey didn’t answer. Just stared at him.

“Is it because Christopher used to paint?” Trick asked. The human’s eyes flashed, and Trick knew he’d hit the nail on the head. “He was arty, wasn’t he? You see that trait in her, and you don’t like it. But see, that’s your problem. And it should have been a problem you ignored out of love for her and because you want her to be happy. But you didn’t. For that, you should be ashamed of yourself.”

Jutting out his chin, Geoffrey sniffed. “I don’t have to listen to this.”

“But you will. It’s been a long time coming.” Trick tilted his head. “I don’t know why you’d link this ‘hobby’ with Christopher since, when you think about it, she probably got the sculpting skill from you and your wife. Isn’t that what you’ve always tried to do to Frankie? Shape and mold her into what you want?” Upper lip curling back in contempt, Trick loomed over him. “You’re not going to do that to her anymore. I won’t let you.”

Geoffrey sneered. “You’ve got a lot of nerve standing there, judging me, when your pack is responsible for my daughter’s death.”

“That’s a weak argument. And an attempt to shift the focus from you.”

“Your pack took my daughter from me and my family. I won’t let you take my granddaughter from us too.”

Trick growled, and his wolf snapped his teeth. “You took her from me. She’s mine. Always was.”

The raw possessiveness in his voice took Geoffrey off guard. He looked from Trick to Frankie, and realization flashed in his eyes. He shook his head in denial. “No.”

“Yes,” Trick bit out. “She’s my mate. I missed twenty-four years of her life because you wanted to punish her paternal family and pack mates for what happened to Caroline. But you didn’t only hurt us, you hurt Frankie. You won’t take her from me again.”

“See, you’re trying to steal her from us—you and your pack.”

“We don’t need to try to steal her. You’re pushing her to us with the way you’re acting. In your efforts to bring her to heel, you’re driving her away.” Trick had no idea how the guy couldn’t see it. “And you know what? We hate that. We’re not gloating. We hate that she’s hurting. If you truly love her, you’ll stop and let this be. There’s no reason why she can’t have both sides of her family in her life. Don’t make her choose.”

“You think she’ll choose you?” Geoffrey smirked, as if the idea were ridiculous.

“Yeah, I do. Don’t test that.”

The smirk on Geoffrey’s face died. He turned to Frankie, who was standing off to the side, watching the exchange with a blank expression. But Geoffrey didn’t say a word to her. He straightened the lapels of his jacket as he stormed out of the studio and then out of the house, slamming the front door behind him.

Trick rubbed a hand down his face. “I’m sorry that you had to be here for that, because it put you in an awkward position,” he told her. “But I’m not sorry for any of what I said. He needed to hear it.”