Lucas’s pov
The cottage was small, barely bigger than the closet room at the Full Moon Pack. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting dancing shadows on the rough-hewn walls. The air was thick with the scent of woodsmoke and something else, something floral and faintly sweet. It was a strangely comforting smell, a stark contrast to the turmoil churning within me.
Helen, the woman who’d opened the door, the woman who knew my father, married him even, offered me tea. I shook my head curtly. Tea was for civilized conversations, for pleasantries and polite chit-chat. I wasn’t feeling particularly civilized.
She sat down opposite me anyway, her eyes, a shade of brown, fixed on my face. Beside her, the little boy, Nate, fidgeted, his gaze darting between me and his mother. He was a mini
