Lycan's Prey by Jessica Hall

Chapter 73

“Good, I’m starving,” he says as I lead Max out of the playroom. Max snickers to himself as we make our way to the dining room.

This part of parenthood–the routine, the patterns of raising a child–feels natural. It feels like coming home. No awkward shower encounters, doubts, or embarrassments. Just me, Max, and the everyday rhythm of life, yet I am suddenly craving adding to that routine–no, add someone, which confuses me. As we reach the stairs, we run into Bree, and Max ditches me, running ahead. She barely catches him as he pounces on her, and she staggers back, clutching the railing.

“You trying to give me a heart attack,” she tells him, hugging him close as she starts down the steps.

“We are going down for dinner,” he tells her.

“That’s where I am headed,” she tells him, glancing at me before her eyes go past me to my father. She takes a second look at him and blinks like she is wondering if she is imagining my father’s makeover. She presses her lips in a line, trying to stifle the laugh.

“I see we are all dressed up for dinner. You look amazing, King Alaric,” she tells him.

“I snuck in a nap; don’t tell Maribel, though. I promised to take her into town but ran off with Max instead, saying I was

babysitting for Soren.”

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Chapter 73

she tells him, and Max chuckles, covering his

of roasted chicken. wafts through the dining room as I pull out a chair for Bree. The dinner table is covered in steaming dishes, and my father. moves to the

says softly, her smile not quite reaching her eyes as I tuck her chair in just as my mother walks in with another dish. “I decided to help,” she announces, knowing my mother. She probably just annoyed the staff as she tried to take

my mother to life with a pleased flush on

be my daughter after all,” my mother insists, passing the mashed potatoes to Bree. “And you must join me tomorrow. There’s a quaint little row of shops in the mall that we simply must explore. I also want to find some more lace for

Bree nods, a grateful glint in

eases a tension in my

stage. “A little mother–daughter time could

words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken implications.

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