Wild Hunger (The Phoenix Pack, #7)(58)
“Do not try to use this situation to meet your own needs,” Trick snapped.
Michael lifted a placating hand. “Let’s drop this, yes?”
Uma’s mouth tightened. “Fine. I hope you’ll at least make time to visit us soon. And grandchildren would be nice, by the way.” The cabin door creaked open, and Trey stepped out. Uma’s face went rock hard.
“Mom, leave it,” Trick bit out. “Your anger is pointless.”
Uma turned back to him. “You lost years of your mate’s life because her grandparents took her from you. Are you not angry with them for that?”
He knew what she was getting at. “Trey didn’t take me from you. I made the decision to leave. I made the choice that was right for me. Dad knows that, which is why he’s mad at me, not Trey.”
Michael exhaled a weary sigh. “I lost that anger years ago, Trick.”
Trick shook his head. “I see it in your eyes.”
“That anger isn’t directed at you. I’m angry that the strain between us went on too long for the damage to ever be completely repaired.” Michael looked at Frankie. “We’re sorry for your loss, Francesca.” At that, he guided Uma away. Whatever he whispered into her ear stopped her from spewing any harsh words at Trey as they passed him.
Trick’s shoulders lost their tension as Lydia and Cam finally appeared. “Now we can get the fuck out of here.”
When they all finally returned to Phoenix Pack territory, Trick took Frankie to his room and lay her on the bed beside him. “Let it go,” he gently ordered. And she did. The entire time she cried, he held her close, whispering soothing words and planting light kisses on her face and hair. Once she was all cried out, she drifted off, still in his arms. He tightened his hold on her and watched over her while she slept.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Her foot caught on something, and Frankie cursed as she stumbled. Only Trick’s hold on her arm kept her upright. She hissed. “Will you take this damn blindfold off me now!”
“Nearly there,” he assured her.
“You said that twenty minutes ago.”
“Baby, we’ve only been walking for five.”
She snarled at him, though she had no idea if he noticed. When he’d said that he had a surprise for her, she hadn’t expected that they’d need to go stomping through the woods to reach it. Well, she was stomping, causing leaves to crackle and twigs to snap beneath her feet. Trick didn’t make a sound. If it weren’t for his hand on her skin and his scent surrounding her, she wouldn’t even know he was there.
For days she’d been very aware that he was hiding something from her—he’d occasionally shot her a little secret smile that had a slight taunt to it. But no amount of bugging on her part had made him even admit to having a secret, let alone made him tell her what it was.
Busy working on her sculpture, she’d let it go, especially since immersing herself in her work stopped her from thinking about the messes in her life. It had been almost two weeks since Iris’s funeral. Though the grief had lost its cutting edge, it still hurt to think of her and—
Frankie nearly tripped again. “Fuck, Trick, you need to take this thing off before I fall flat on my face.” Her wolf was embarrassed on Frankie’s behalf.
“Not yet,” he said, words vibrating with humor.
“Asshole.” Grinding her teeth, she kept walking—well, stomping. It felt like forever before he finally brought her to a halt.
“Don’t move from this spot, and do not take off the blindfold.”
Planting her hands on her hips, she impatiently drummed her fingers. “Fine.” There was the sound of metal screeching, like a roll-up door was being lifted. Then Trick was behind her, gently guiding her forward and inside . . . something. Before she could wonder at the slight draft or investigate the scents, the blindfold fell away.
“Surprise,” Trick whispered into her ear.
Frankie’s mouth dropped open, and her arms slipped to her sides. The building was pretty much a replica of the studio attached to her house—same layout, same amount of space, same high ceiling and ventilation system. He’d even ensured that there was a patch outside for her to work on. And she feared she was going to cry.
She turned to him, knowing she had to look dazed. Words failed her, and all that came out of her mouth was, “How?”
“The Mercury Pack Alpha, Nick, has a lot of contacts. One is an architect who runs a firm—they revamped the Mercury Pack’s main lodge, built all the lodges that are scattered around Nick’s territory, and then recently constructed his pack’s motel. I told them what I wanted, and they built the studio. I was impressed by how fast they did it.”
“That’s why you haven’t been pushing me to come here during the daytime lately,” she realized. “You said it was so that I could work on my sculpture, but it was because you didn’t want me to hear the construction work.”
He nodded. “That was also why we didn’t go on any more runs in our wolf forms around here.” They’d done it near her house instead. Trick stood back, mouth curved, as she wandered around the large space, touching things with a proprietary edge and leaving her scent everywhere. “So are you happy with it?”
A short, spontaneous laugh popped out of her. “How can I not be?” She crossed to him and looped her arms around his neck. “I really didn’t expect you to do this.” Her voice cracked. “I figured I’d just keep using the studio at my house.”