Fated for Her Wolves - Tara West Page 0,7
would’ve resented her, too, but he knew she didn’t like putting them off. He’d felt the ache in her heart during the rare moments he was able to glimpse her amber eyes. That she felt remorse for something out of her control made him love her all the more. She was a kind, loving soul. Nothing like their birth mother, the woman whose death had caused Tatiana to avoid bonding with them.
“It’s been five years since we caught her scent on our sister’s bag.” Dejan leaned forward, clutching the back of Constantine’s seat, hoping he’d add something positive to the conversation. “Four years since we marked her. She can’t possibly make us wait any longer.”
Dimitri turned his scowl at the road ahead of them. “She shouldn’t have made us wait this long, but she has.”
“She still feels guilty over our mother’s death.” Dejan’s voice deflated as the words spilled from his mouth. The tension radiating off his brothers was palpable. It was clear none of them believed her visit would go well.
Andrei scratched the back of his head, giving Dejan an apologetic look. “How many times must we tell her it’s not her fault? Our mother’s hatefulness drove her to her death.”
“Damn our selfish mother,” Dimitri spat, “cursing us in life and in death.”
Dejan looked at the flowers, noticing a few had wilted. “Let’s try to set our negativity aside and focus on Tatiana.”
“And get our hearts crushed again?” Constantine grumbled, clutching the wheel with whitened knuckles.
Constantine had lost faith in her, too? He could’ve struck Dejan’s heart with a mallet, and it would’ve had the same effect. “It might be different this time.”
“Just like last time was different and the time before that,” Dimitri grumbled, his expression as hard as iron.
Dejan clamped his mouth shut. No use arguing with them. No longer interested in the song, he turned to the window, focusing on the winter landscape, trying not to get discouraged that she’d reject them again.
TATIANA SAT ON THE edge of a faded floral sofa. The stuffing hanging out of the cushions made it look like a wolf had shredded them. Dejan, the gamma, sat opposite her, a smile frozen on his face, hands folded in his lap. The youngest of the four Lupescu brothers, he normally had the sweetest smile, but something in his expression was off. She hoped this was a dream, for his hands turned to wisps of smoke when he grabbed the sides of his chair.
“Tatiana, we’ve missed you so much,” he said in a monotone, a vacuous look in his pale blue eyes.
“Where are your brothers?” she asked. The walls were covered with framed photos of Katarina, the brothers’ dead mother. Everywhere she looked, she saw Katarina’s long, pale hair and radiant eyes. Too bad her beauty overshadowed the evil in her heart.
“They’re not here,” he said.
“Why?” There were several cracks and holes in the wall’s plaster. Other than the numerous photos, the old house hadn’t changed much from when she’d last seen it. It had once belonged to the evil Devora pack and had too many bad memories after they’d turned into werewolves and nearly killed her family. The Lupescu brothers had told her they’d torn it down.
He frowned, averting his eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”
Several thoughts ran through her mind. Were they avoiding her because they were angry with her? Why had they told her they’d torn down the Devora house and built her a new one? And why were there so many pictures of Katarina on their walls? They’d told her their mother was cruel and heartless, so why had they created a shrine for her? Did they truly miss her or was it a way to make Tatiana feel guilty for her involvement in Katarina’s death?
“Of course it matters,” she grumbled, shifting uncomfortably as a spring poked her thigh. Unable to stand another moment in the house that brought back too many ugly memories, she stood and dusted off her jeans. “I need to go.”
Dejan jumped to his feet, his eyes widening with alarm. “Why?”
“There are too many reminders of Katarina here.” She dropped her eyes to the threadbare rug under her feet. “It feels wrong.”
“It’s not wrong that we miss our mother.” His voice was thick with emotion.
He reached for her, but she skirted the sofa to avoid him, repressing a curse when she saw a statue of their mother by the door, surrounded by glowing candles and a wreath of flowers.
Great Ancients! All this time they’d been trying to