He’s wearing a tight black t-shirt that does a horrible job at hiding how muscular he is as his thick tattooed arms look like they barely make it through the sleeves. I follow the tattoos up to his neck, where I see them peeking through the collar of his shirt and swirling along his jugular. I don’t know if I have ever found tattoos attractive on men before, but something calls to me. I want to trace every single one of them with my finger, and I wonder how much of his body they cover.
Finally, I manage to move on to his face. His serious gaze is scanning the yard as he listens to what Sawyer and the pretty girl are saying to him. He doesn’t speak as far as I can tell but gives a curt nod here and there.
The more I look at his stern face, the more I realize I’ve seen it before. Hanging in pictures frames all over the Weylyns’ house.
Holy shit, that’s Ryker Weylyn.
Ryker is the oldest Weylyn sibling, and I’ve yet to have the opportunity to meet him. According to Remi, he hasn’t been home in over five years. I’ve never asked why since it’s none of my business, but the small amount of information I’ve gathered makes me understand why he looks serious in all the photos and in person. Remi told me when Ryker was thirteen, he lost someone very important to him. And I’m certainly one who can understand how losing someone important to you can mess you up.
There’s also no denying all of the Weylyn siblings are related. They all have the same dark-brown hair and bright-blue eyes. The twins, Ransom and Ranger, are a lot leaner than Ryker, I see now. He is bulkier and taller than them, not by much, though. Elias is tall himself, it makes sense his children would be too.
Having been lost in thought, I focus back on the tall, dark-haired man. Then, suddenly, still staring at his striking face, I realize something makes me wish the floor would swallow me whole.
Ryker is staring back at me. From my spot up in the kitchen window, I can tell his eyes are wide and his mouth is slightly gaping.
And at that moment, I see something else too. The same golden aura that surrounds the wolf in my dreams shines around Ryker, and the glittering golden air around him shimmers brightly in the sun.
I don’t know I’m moving before I find myself ducking around the corner from the window, out of sight from everyone’s view.
His view.
I place my face in my hands and take large, gulping breaths. I don’t know why I’m hiding. Well, maybe it’s because I’m absolutely going crazy and seeing things!
It’s time I sign myself into a mental institution. Very vivid dreams and sleepwalking are one thing, but when the craziness starts to creep into my real life, that’s when I need to get help.
Out of nowhere, my body feels like it’s been electrocuted. The shooting and zapping pain starts at my scalp and shoots through my skin. Gasping, I throw my hand over my mouth as nausea wracks my body so hard I’m lurching forward, vomit close to making its unsightly escape. I quickly make a beeline for the closest bathroom as the last thing I want to do is lose my lunch all over Margot’s pristine living room floor.
Just as I’m rushing past the front door, I hear a voice call to me. “Pru, you look like shit!” Remington hollers after me, her footsteps sounding as though they’re right behind mine. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
I barely make it to the toilet before I’m hurling my brains out.
4
Ryker
I forgot about my father’s fiftieth birthday last week. Just add it to the list of reasons why I’m a horrible son.
Walking into my childhood home for the first time in five years is like stepping back in time. Very little had changed or moved. Mom had bought new sofas for the living room, and the chandelier in the entry is also different, but everything else looks the same.
While this place should feel like home and welcoming, for me, it feels like a graveyard. As if being back here wasn’t bad enough, we had arrived in the middle of my father’s birthday party, and from what I could tell, the whole pack is here.
Even though I’ve been gone for years, my inner wolf recognizes his pack members. While the human side of me has no issue being away from my family or pack mates, my wolf longs for the companionship. I know wolves are pack animals and forcing my wolf away from his community was unfair, but I simply couldn’t be here any longer.
My mom and little sister had burst into tears the second I walked through the front door. Both of them barreled into me at full force and just about knocked me on my ass, and my ribs still hurt from their death-grip hugs. My brothers had both given me a stiff one-armed hug before punching me in the arm and chest. My father’s reaction to my arrival was as expected. He gave me a curt nod and said it was good to see me. He, of course, didn’t miss the opportunity to comment on the number of tattoos that now cover my skin either. I have twice as many now as I did when I saw him last.
I guess a lot can happen in five years.
I haven’t yet had the heart to tell them the reason I’m here is to inform them of the rogue that is more than likely in or around the pack’s territory. I wish I were a good enough son to really be here to celebrate my father’s birthday, but I’m not. I’m the
