Wolfless Omega, Claimed by Prince Lycan King novel · Chapter 15 of 24

Chapter 15: Choosing Him

Lyla stopped crying the second our father said her name.

She sat up straight in her chair and looked at me across the chamber.

Her eyes were still wet. Her mouth was smiling.

"Every pack," she said. "That'll be nice for you, Hes. You love an audience."

The Gulf banged her cane, and the sitting was over.

My ex was already gone. Somebody said he'd walked straight out to his dented car and driven down the mountain without his coat.

I never found out who kept the coat.

At one in the morning I was in Oona's kitchen with my sleeves pushed up, kneading rye.

Oona's wing had a real kitchen, small and warm, with copper pans nobody used and a radio that only got one station.

I hadn't touched dough since the night of the mating cake.

My hands knew what to do even when the rest of me didn't.

Oona sat on the counter in a man's flannel shirt, eating raisins out of the box.

"You know there's a whole Court kitchen downstairs," she said. "With bakers. Who are paid."

"Their rye's terrible."

"It is terrible." She ate another raisin. "Don't tell them I said so. The head cook already hates me."

"Why?"

"I was nine. There was a cake. It's a long story and I come off very badly." She swung her boots. "Evander took the blame. He was fourteen. He got a month of stable duty and never told."

I folded the dough over and leaned into it.

Up the mountain, faint through the thick old walls, the howling started again.

Oona stopped chewing.

We both listened to it.

"He sits on the floor of his sitting room with his back against the closet door," she said quietly. "Every night since you moved out. I've checked. He doesn't know I've checked."

I pressed the heels of my hands into the dough.

"He said my name," I said.

"He did."

"With his face on every screen." My voice went thick. "Nobody ever said my name out loud to defend me. Not once. In thirty years."

Oona slid off the counter.

She came and stood next to me, close enough that our shoulders touched.

"Can I say something annoying?"

"You're going to anyway."

"You keep talking about the wolf." She picked a bit of dough off my wrist and ate it. "Like it's the thing you're deciding about."

"It is."

"Is it? Because you've kneaded that bread for forty minutes, and every time he howls you stop."

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