The Alpha's Bloodline (On Hold)

Chapter 24

    I stopped breathing. I stopped moving, literally. It was like I didn't exist anymore at that point in time. I heard the rapid beating of my heart- fluttering like wild Humming Birds and the butterflies that were rampaging in my stomach. I started to palpitate in fear.

                 "Hello? Hello? Who is this?" My- father, snapped from the other end. He sounded impatient, angry, worried and flustered.  I had no words right then, Chris stood by my side patiently, his arms gently massaging my tense shoulders and slowly pushing me back into reality. The here and now of my current situation.

             Just as my father was about to hang up, I managed to find part of my voice. "Dad?" I croaked out. If he was not a werewolf I wouldn't have doubted in his ability to hear me; but knowing my kind- I didn't doubt a thing. There was less room for overshadowing doubt when I heard his sharp intake of breath.

     "Jonah... My Daughter, Princess? No it can't---" he was even more flustered than before. His breathing rapid and even though he sounded doubtful, there was a shadow of hope glimmering in his voice over the phone.

   "Daddy. It is me. It's really me. I missed you- so much." I whispered and broke down into tears and my father sobered up and I heard him talking to me in French? He tried to comfort me and I gulped back unhinged tears and took deep breaths.

  "But how?" That was my father's question. "It's been over a decade.. H-h-how did you suddenly resurface?"

   I had no words for that, I was unable to open myself up to talk about my pain and hurt. I refused to break down on the phone and cause further distress to my real father and myself; by explicitly giving him the ''down-low'' on the thirteen years of torture I was forced to endure -day in day out. Chris, the loving mate and gentleman that he was, seemed to sense my fears. Gently, he pried the phone from my hands and placed it on speaker.

  "Hello?" My father called again. 

   "Sir?" Chris' voice was quiet, subdued and very un-Christian at the moment. He seemed at a loss for words, very rare for him.

   My father sounded instantly alert."Yes! Who the hell are you? Are you working with him, are you helping him; are you keeping my Jonah---"

  Christian cut him off, offended. ''Of course not."

    My father's response was a subdued and relaxed one. "Then who the hell are you?"

    "He's my mate," I intervened. 

   I heard my father's sharp intake of breath and mutters of confusion, relief and disbelief- again in French. "Ou habites-tu?" 

   " Je ne parle le français." I stated and then I automatically clamped my hand over my mouth,  my eyes widening. "Wh-when did I start speaking French?" I queried, looking at my mate with wide, confused eyes.

   Christian arched an eyebrow and shrugged lightly. "I'm guessing that your pack is in Quebec?" He questioned my father. His response was an affirmative one. 

   "Christian, may you care to shed some light on yourself and my daughter's whereabouts? I am without a doubt eager to bring her back to me. She needs to be home, here; with her family- where she belongs."

   All the while, I had sunk into some type of trance- not fully aware of what was going on around me.  Yet, at the words that echoed through the phone, my head snapped off the desk at lightning-fast, neck-breaking speed.

  "Home?" I asked, confused, "This is my home." I whispered. I was not sure why, but I knew for a fact that nothing good would come of my response. So obviously, I would be the tiniest bit unsettled.