Wild Hunger (The Phoenix Pack, #7)(57)

Keeping her voice casual, Frankie asked, “Clara, did Iris buy this?”

Clara squinted at the sculpture. “No, she didn’t. I asked her once why she’d have such a frightening piece in her home. She said she’d never give away a gift. She was good like that.” Her chin trembled, and she dug a tissue out of her pocket. “Excuse me. I need to use the bathroom.”

Frankie blew out a breath and turned to Trick. “Can we go now?” She was tired and edgy, and her face felt stiff from how long she’d been fighting the urge to cry.

He squeezed her nape. “Yeah, baby, we can go.” He signaled to Trey, who tipped his chin. Trusting his Alpha to gather the rest of their pack mates together, Trick slid an arm around Frankie’s shoulders and led her outside. The moment they stepped on the porch, those shoulders stiffened. He frowned. “You okay?”

No, Frankie wasn’t. When she’d stepped out onto the porch, a familiar scent of rain, brine, and burned wood had reached her nostrils. That was when her wolf went ape-shit—snarling, snapping her teeth, and raking Frankie’s insides with her claws.

Frankie stiffly turned to face Cruz, Eke, and Wendel. While they exchanged greetings with her and Trick, she worked hard to soothe her wolf.

“It was good of you to come, Frankie,” said Eke, face lined with grief. “My mother appreciates it.”

Cruz nodded. “She needs family around her right now.”

Wendel opened his mouth to speak, but then he shook his head. “Sorry, it’s just . . . you look so much like Caroline that it’s like having her standing in front of me.”

The affection with which he said her mother’s name unsettled Frankie. She lifted a brow. “You knew her well?”

“Not well, but I’d like to think we were friends. Some humans find it hard to adjust to being within a pack. Not Caroline. She took to pack life as if she were a shifter.”

Mouth curving into a nostalgic smile, Cruz nodded again. “Christopher was so proud of that. He’d have been so proud of your success too. He’d have liked that you were an artist, like him.” Hearing the shake in his voice, Frankie thought he might cry. Instead he gave her a wobbly smile.

As if eager to change the subject and rescue Cruz’s mood, Eke quickly said, “You were always in Iris’s thoughts, Frankie. I’m sure you’ve noticed there were many pictures of you around her cabin.”

“There was one of my sculptures too,” she told him.

Wendel blinked. “She didn’t tell me she had one of your pieces.”

Before Frankie could tell him that she suspected Iris hadn’t known it was one of hers, a dark-skinned female popped her head through the doorway and shouted, “Boys, your mom is looking for you!”

Sighing, Cruz shrugged a little helplessly. “We have to go. You take care now, Frankie.” He tipped his chin at Trick and then headed inside the cabin. Muttering their goodbyes, Wendel and Eke followed their brother.

Relief scuttled down Frankie’s spine, and she rolled back her stiff shoulders. It wasn’t until she was inside the SUV, though, that her wolf finally simmered down. Breathing deeply, she clicked on her seat belt, hoping that Lydia and Cam would hurry their asses up.

Trick rested one hand on the wheel. “Okay, baby, here’s where you tell me why the triplets make you so uncomfortable.”

Agitated, Frankie threw her hands up. “It’s not me. It’s my wolf.”

His brow creased. “Your wolf?”

“She loses her shit around them. The scent they all share sets her off every time. I don’t know why, but she despises them.”

Trick’s frown deepened. “Really?” He glanced at the cabin, thoughtful. “I don’t recall them ever doing anything to upset you when we were kids. But if your wolf behaves that way, there must be a good reason.” He was about to say something else, but then he noticed that his parents were nearing Iris’s cabin. It appeared that they’d walked from the graveyard instead of driving, and he wondered if his father had insisted on it out of respect for Iris—hoping that Trey would be gone by the time they got there so that any awkward scenes could be avoided.

Noticing him, they stopped at the driver’s side of the vehicle. Trick wound down the window and inclined his head.

Michael nodded, face drawn. “Son.” He looked past him and said with a strained smile, “You must be Francesca. I’m Michael, Trick’s father. This is Uma, his mother.”

Uma smiled. “It’s nice to see you again, Francesca, though it would have been much better if it had happened under other circumstances. I’m sorry about your grandmother. Iris was an amazing woman.”

Unsure what to say, Frankie simply agreed. “Yeah, she was.”

Uma turned her smile on Trick. “You look good.”

“I feel it,” said Trick.

“Will you be moving back to Bjorn Pack territory?” Uma asked Frankie.

“No,” replied Frankie. “I, um, I’ll be moving to Phoenix Pack territory at some point.”

Satisfaction flooded Trick at that, and he rested a hand on her thigh.

“I see.” Uma looked from her to Trick. “You’re mates.” She slanted her head, eyes on Trick. “I remember how protective you were of her. I didn’t think anything of it. I should have.” She raised a brow. “You don’t think it would be best for Francesca if she were to return to her childhood—”