The Amber Shift

Thirty-Eight

Elijah

I've never wanted to reach across a table and choke a person out as badly as I do right now.

Dante Shaw is a shit excuse for a king and even more shit excuse for a man. Even if he hadn't killed my mother and cursed me and my mate, I would think the same for what he's done to Noelle. She deserved better; she deserved to know what she was, deserved a father who was there every day. Corbin did the best he could, but he had his own responsibilities. Noelle deserved the world. And still does.

It may be true that he didn't know about her, but if he had been a decent man, he could've been there and been a real father.

Not to mention that I'm so on edge because Noelle was still in Asher's room when he came back to change clothes this morning, and I have no idea what happened. I asked Corbin to let her know that it was almost time to leave because I couldn't stomach the thought of hearing her moans through to the door just in case she'd decided to let him give her what I couldn't. I force myself to stay in my seat and hold my temper; the last thing Corbin or Dante needs to see is me shift of my own volition. Plus, I told her to do what she needed to do. I can't be mad.

But I can be jealous as fuck.

"Asher is clearly from England; Elijah, where did you grow up?" Dante asks, taking a sip of his mimosa.

I grit my teeth and my lip twitches. "New Orleans."

Something flickers across his face as he says, "I know it well. I have a home there in the bayou."

Yeah, fucker, I know you do.

His amber eyes flash with recognition. "My God. Elijah Holt. Your mother was—"

I glance at my friends—Corbin looks horrified, Asher worried, and Noelle stricken.

My blood boils and I dig my nails into my palms, leaving crescent shaped divots in my skin. "Rebecca," I growl.

He doesn't so much as flinch when I say her name, like she is some faceless lycan to him. But she's not. We know what she did, and he will never admit it. "She was a lovely woman. A beautiful lycan who had a lot of potential." He locks his gaze on mine; the fucker is baiting me. He wants me to lose my shit.

"She was," I grit through my teeth.

"It's a shame she did what she did, and I had to administer her punishment."

I wrap my arms around my chest and hold his stare. "Sometimes we are driven to do terrible things to protect ourselves. Aren't we?"

"It's the price I must pay as king."

Of course the asshole thinks I'm talking about him. My mother was placed in an impossible situation. She could live the rest of her life with the most grotesque violation to her body and see the king tried for what he did, or defend herself and never meet an earth-shattering fate. She fought back and I will never fault her for that. Dante deserved far more for just attempting to touch her when she didn't care for his advances. He should be the one dead.

"I'm sure her death and the promises you made afterward to avenge the wrong done to you ripped you into a million fucking pieces." I clamp my mouth shut. This is as close as I'm going to get to saying my piece. If I take it any further and threaten him with bodily harm, I will find myself locked in a cell for treason.

He nods once and directs his attention to Noelle. "Daughter, I'd like to ask you a question."

Noelle's lip curls and she wrinkles her nose. "Please don't call me that."

His jaw ticks, angered that she speaks to him in such a casual way. "Fair enough. Noelle, I'd like to ask you a question."

"That's your prerogative."