Fated to My Best Friend's Father

Thor

e was a mask of friendship, and behind it, I saw only the chasm that had

iors, who were now pointedly looking away. "I'm exhausted. The journey..." I let my voice trail off, hoping it sounded l

ly been his usual charming self, all grunts and glares." She looped her arm through mine, her strength a familiar comfort th

me hide inside my own head. The Packhouse was a fortress of dark wood and stone, the air

s with a massive fireplace already crackling and a balco

er face, and pointed a thumb over her shoulder at the door directly across the hall. "That's my father's room. Convenient, hu

over the high collar of my tunic, the

ts* on the nightstand with a reverence that made my eyes burn. "He's trying to impress you. The Alpha King, making a statement."

uld protest, she was behind me, her hands reaching for my hai

ou don't

ent. She picked up a silver-backed brush from the vanity. "Ju

ng hair was a countdown. She was too close. The scent of her-wildflowers and ozone-was a painful reminder

e and practiced from a thousand other times she'd done this for me. The stea

riar murmured, her voice soft. "But

pulling it to one side

en she

felt the warmth of her hand against my neck, right over the tender, raise

eyes still shut. I coul

remble in her fingertips. Her breath hit

ked my hair fully aside, exposing the side of my neck to the cool air of the

ks of blood on snow. Her eyes, wide with horror, were fixed on the reflection of

a Marking Bite." Her eyes lifted from the mark to my own in the mirror,

. She didn't see a fated bond. She saw an assault.

ed, her voice shaking with a rage I had never seen in her before. "A Marking Bite isn't part of a political alliance. That's possession. Tha

e was ready to betray her own blood for me, al

e it, as if I could undo what she'd seen. "No," I said, shak

o he is. I know what he's capable of. He wan

cing myself to meet her furious, protective glare. I had to end this before it spiraled into something we could never take ba

ching confusion. She opened her mouth to argue, to deny it, but no sound came out. Her mind was reeling, trying to fit this impossible truth into the m

ed, leaving behind a glassy, vacant shock. Her breath hitched, a tiny, wounded sound. I saw the moment

r wide, shocked eyes met mine again, but this time, the fury and confusion were g

by a stranger. The knowledge didn't just change

errifying, Briar Blackwood, my best friend, sank to the floor. The rustle of her training clothes was the

tripped of all its earlier fire. The title

Lu