Fated for Her Wolves - Tara West Page 0,81

better, but his response only made her feel worse. “He was my best friend.” She wiped her watery eyes on the sleeve of her robe. He’d been with her since childhood, helping her through some of the darkest times in her life. How was she supposed to go on without him?

“He’s lived longer than any other dog his size.” Drasko flashed a sympathetic smile. “You gave him a good life.”

“But I didn’t give him a good death,” she said and sobbed. Why would he leave the house to spare her feelings? Couldn’t he at least have said his final farewell in the comfort of their home?

Rone pulled her against him. “He’s in a better place now.”

A better place? How did he know?

“I’ve been to Valhol.” She vehemently shook her head. “I don’t remember seeing dogs there.”

Haakon and Drasko shared meaningful looks.

“You only saw our goddess,” Hakon said. “You didn’t go into the forest.”

She remembered a shadowy line of trees behind the mists whenever she’d visited her namesake, the goddess Amara, in the clouds.

“Raz told me dogs reincarnate several times before they go to Valhol,” Rone said.

Reincarnate? Was it supposed to make her feel better that her sweet Buster would live with another family, perhaps one that didn’t love him as much as she did?

She stared at his prone body. He looked at rest, as he always did when he curled up by the hearth. “I didn’t get to tell him goodbye.”

“He knows you loved him,” Rone soothed. “That’s what matters.”

Hakon jumped when his pocket buzzed. He pulled out his phone and turned away, mumbling into the receiver. Though she was more focused on holding Buster’s cold paw one last time, she thought she heard Tor’s voice on the other end.

Hakon’s expression was grim when he slipped the phone back in his pocket.

“What is it?” Drasko asked.

He looked at them with stony features—a façade, she had come to learn, his way of bottling up his emotions. “The alpha Spiritcaller has died.”

“This day keeps getting shittier,” Rone mumbled, one arm around Amara while he held Buster’s other paw.

She was too numb with shock to process her grief, but the dam would break soon.

Rone nuzzled her neck. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

Resting her head on his shoulder as her tears silently fell, she said, “Just hold me.”

Chapter Three

EIGHT WEEKS HAD PASSED since Buster and the elder Spiritcaller died. Eight weeks since Amara’s heart had shattered. Every few weeks thereafter, her poor heart was pulverized a bit more as each Spiritcaller elder succumbed to mortality and passed over the veil. Raz and her gamma were the last to die, taking their final breaths within seconds of each other.

She thought it odd how the Amaroki wolves payed tribute to their dead. Rather than somber funerals, they lit each body on a pyre and then danced and drank all night, honoring their loved ones with lively celebrations.

Though she’d been too swollen and miserable to attend, Hakon and Luc had gone to pay their respects, returning home the next day with monster hangovers. Luckily for them, they lived with a healer. Neither of them seemed to be upset over the Spiritcallers dropping like flies. They continued to assure Amara they were in a better place, running free in Valhol as young wolves.

Her unborn child hadn’t shown her their deaths. For that she was grateful. She hoped her daughter hadn’t witnessed them, either. Sitting by the back window with a cup of hot tea, she listened for Hakon’s truck. He was bringing Annie and her mates from the airport, and Amara couldn’t wait to be reunited with her cousin. The prospect of spending the holidays with Annie had kept her spirits up during this bleak time. She only wished Annie’s brother Roy had come, but he was spending Christmas with his father.

Her unborn baby made an aggressive turn, making her feel queasy. She adjusted her position, leaning back to give her more room and patting her belly. “Easy, sweetie.”

When she was jolted again, she decided to stand, hoping she wouldn’t karate chop her back while she stretched. The sound of truck tire chains made her rush to the front door as much as her swollen body would allow.

Rone was in the kitchen preparing a feast. The older boys sat at the bar, sampling his pumpkin pie, while Evin and Bjorn tossed peas and carrots from their highchairs to the salivating dogs below, both babies giggling each time a dog caught one. Drasko and Luc