Lone Werewolf Duology (bxb)

59. The Right Words

The hackles raised on Volya's neck.

"What are you even doing?" Liam inquired, as if forgetting that a werewolf could only snarl in response.

Volya snarled.

Liam extended his hands toward him, fortunately from a safe distance. "You'll starve to death on the steppe."

Volya shook in fierce denial. He'd never starve in the wilderness, only among the humans.

Liam bobbed his head left to right, obviously conceding his unvoiced point. "Or you'll eat something poisonous. Chocolate isn't the worst thing, you know? The marmots here carry bubonic plague. You'll die, Volya."

His growl meant to say, Then let me die! It was his frigging civil right!

"Volya?" For a second, Volya thought Liam would start crying again from the way he scrunched his face. "Volya, are you in there?"

Like his werewolf form was some mascot's suit! It would have been far easier if he wasn't all there. Bloodier, but easier. Since it wasn't the case, he was in there and fought like a madman against the desire to impose control on someone he wanted. His teeth bared at the thought, the long curved canines dripping foam.

Liam flinched. Yeah, your would-be-lover foaming at the mouth would do it. Now, if he just left—

But Liam stupidly moved one more step forward.

Was he completely nuts?! Volya barked, and Liam shook his head as if he got his meaning, though not his exact words. Along with irritation, a different sensation welled inside Volya's chest. The tenderness toward this helpless human walking towards him.

Liam closed the gap and put his arms around Volya's muscular torso. "Volya? Come back. Stay where you belong. Stay with me. With us."

"Where do I belong?" Volya screeched with a numb tongue. A numb human tongue.

In spasms, the werewolf form flowed off of him, leaving him naked in Liam's embrace.

The pent up words exploded out of Volya in an angry rant. "For your information, I wasn't going to trawl the steppe. I'm not stupid!"

Liam quirked a brow up. "Oh?"

"I was going to hole up on the Buyan Isle and wait for the Walkwe's return. They can't avoid it forever. They can't."

"And then what?"

Volya gawked. Was it this hard to understand what he wanted? "Then I'd meet my mother and my sister. Duh!"

"And if they didn't come, what then?"

"If I can't find them, I'll talk to the rest of my tribe. Tell them that their stupid custom is outdated, that I remember things, that I'm Akrum's descendant—"

Liam blinked. "What?"

"You didn't figure it out? He's my father... sort of. He's the father to every boy still born to the Walkwe."

"How?"

"Magic. Genes. His marvelous virility. Liam, I don't know, okay?" He threw his arms up into the air in surrender. "Run and ask daSilva, if you want a credible explanation."

Liam didn't move a muscle.

"I felt too much connection to him for it to be otherwise." Volya sighed. "Anyway, I have a plan that involves not dying. If you're satisfied, can I go now?"

"Nope." Liam's fingers found their way through Volya's hair, pushing it out of his face. "I must find out what you're sorry about. You didn't exactly provide a lot of details."