Wolf Shifter Diaries: Lies Tamed (Sweet Paranormal Wolf & Fae Fantasy Romance Series Book 2) by E. Hall (books for men to read TXT) 📗

on my exhale as I realize if he hasn’t been able to find Greyson, that must mean our father, as a hollow ghost, doesn’t want him to.

“You know, getting out of the house isn’t a bad idea. We should see if my mom can help.” I run my finger along the spines of leather-bound books on a shelf. “It’ll be like a quest. Find Greyson Slade. Rescue him from being a hollow ghost. Get some answers. Yeah, I like the sound of that,” I say, giving Clove and myself a pep talk.

“It’s a place to start.”

“Or your mother. Have you asked her?” I say to Clove.

His face crumbles. “No. She belongs to Melchior’s Court of Ken and Clover. I’m forbidden to have contact with her. If you haven’t noticed there aren’t many male fae. Melchior, Greyson, and me are it as far as I know.”

“You must be part wolf too then,” I say.

Clove shakes his head. “If I am, it’s buried so deep, I hardly feel a growl.”

“Interesting,” I say. “My wolf is dominant, but I do feel the other forms of magic just not as strong.”

I consider this additional information, and my wolf heart surges with warmth. I want to reach out and hug Clove, but he’s so closed off, I’m afraid if I touch him, he’ll spook like a frightened horse.

For the last weeks, I’ve felt alone, lost in what it means to be different. When my mother asked if he was different, when we were here last, she wasn’t far off the mark. My heart lends me understanding and kindness toward Clove. I settle into the chair beside him. It’s the closest I dare get.

Corbin takes up my position pacing. “Listen, I’m happy for you and this little family reunion, but there is something out there killing humans and now a magical. It’s up to me and my pack to find it. End it.”

“Do you think my father, our father, has something to do with it?” I ask.

He harrumphs. “There’s no way to know until we find him. It seems that the Accords are loosening. We can’t afford another rift between magicals or humans. I don’t know any better than either of you how to find Greyson, but I suggest we take action sooner rather than later.” As if there’s a deadline, he glances at a large clock that reminds me of the one I saw in a tower when I first arrived in Concordia.

“Have somewhere to be?” Clove asks.

“New Hampshire,” Corbin says, recalling where my mother lives.

We go on to discuss possibilities, transportation, finances, and an itinerary until the light in the room fades with dusk.

“We’ll leave tomorrow,” Corbin says.

Alister brings us a meal, and then Corbin and I retire to a room on the second floor. I’m so tired, I hardly have the energy to ask him what he knows about ghosts when I fall asleep in the crook of his arm.

When I dream my meadow dream, I try to shift, but cannot and am stuck. My copper-eyed wolf remains at a distance. I try to memorize the outline and details of his features, determined that whatever happens, I won’t lose him too.

The following morning, the weak sun peeks through the bedroom curtain. I consider rejoicing, dancing, or pumping my fist at going home to my mother, learning what I can, and finding my father. But a heavy feeling keeps me in place.

It can’t be that simple. If my father is a ghost, and lost in the ether, if he wanted her to find him, wouldn’t she have?

A soft hum comes from somewhere in the house and I quietly get up, following it downstairs and to the kitchen.

Alister, a dull outline of a man wearing formal attire, stands at the counter mixing something in a bowl. “I begged Miss Cosworth to remain, but she was stubborn about death.”

“Miss Cosworth was stubborn about death?”

“She was the cook. She took ill and instead of remaining here, she wanted to die in the traditional sense. Go figure.”

I’m not sure whether to laugh or ask more questions. I settle on the latter. “What made you want to stay?”

“I loved your parents. They were a happy couple and treated us well. Your mother was like sunshine. Your father, like a full moon.” Alister sighs as though remembering better days. “I’ve always hoped they’d return. Instead, I’ve been in this lonely old house, well, until Clove came along.” Alister measures dry ingredients and dumps them in a bowl.

My wolf smells muffins in the making. I recall the loneliness I felt at the lodge. I gaze through the window at the dale and the rocks dotting the field.

“I’m here too now. You know, when I first came here, I thought this place was haunted.”

“Haunting has a bad rap, but I prefer to think of it as residing. I’m a permanent resident here. Forever.”

“If my father is a hollow ghost, does that mean he can never come back?”

“I should hope he can return otherwise my efforts are for naught. A hollow ghost makes a grim trade—their life, or soul if you prefer, for something else. A second trade can return their life to them then they can go on their merry way. However, they’ll never fully return to the land of the living. Rather, they become liminal or in some cases, stuck, like me.”

I brought the diary downstairs with me and open it, smoothing my hand over the blank page. The night when I thought I heard a voice coming from it returns to me as Alister hums to himself.

“Have you ever seen this diary? I found it here the first time I visited.”

He pauses and peers over my shoulder, bringing a gust of cold with him. “Consider it a housewarming gift.”

“Did you leave it