Wolf Castle (Sinful Wolf Pack Romances)

The second I see John standing in the doorway an unexpected fury rushes through me. The intensity of it almost sends me into instinctive transformation into my wolf form.

It takes an immense effort to hold it off. This primal instinct to protect what is mine happens rarely with me. It is the thought of Clara’s reaction if I destroyed her father that gives me the sheer force of will needed to stay calm. My chest heaves with the effort of keeping myself in human form, and my nerves burn with pain.

In those precious seconds Clara races from the room. I want to go after her, to comfort her and reassure her all will be well. But I can’t leave Karl here to deal with her furious father. John won’t listen to Karl.

Hell, I don’t know if he will listen to me.

John stands frozen some distance away. It takes some moments for his mind to compute what he has just seen. The struggle shows on his face as he tries to reconcile the fact he just saw his barely-clad daughter here, and us with our hands all over her.

And then it hits him.

“What the hell is going on!” he screams.

“Calm down, John,” I say.

“That was Clara. Was that Clara?” he roars.

I shoot Karl a glance that tells him to go after her, to check if she is alright.

When Karl sets off in the direction she went, John charges at him. “Oh no, you don’t. Not my daughter!”

I race to intercept him.

“What the fuck?” John swears.

“She needs me. She’s upset,” Karl tells him.

“You’re damn right she is upset. What the fuck was she doing?”

Neither of us answer him.

This seems to infuriate him, like he expected us to deny it.

“Did you sleep with my daughter?” he shouts.

Again, we don’t answer. The words will only make it worse.

“Jesus, tell me you didn’t.”

“Why are you here?” I ask.

“That friend of hers called me. Her roommate.”

“What did she say?”

“That you were all here with my daughter is what. Jesus, I didn’t believe it. But it’s fucking true!”

The last comes out half roar, half wail of despair.

He sits down suddenly, as if his knees have given way. His face full of utter despair.

I can tell this is going to take a lot more than just words. I go to get him something appropriate from the bar.