Fallen Angel

The boy’s answer was like a sock to the gut… the second half made his heart ache. He remembered that name. And had never once forgotten the reason for knowing it. His eyes studied the young man. He was too young to be from that litter… which meant that Zuriel had either allowed the bastard to touch her again… or he had forced her again.

Whichever method, the union had produced a man that was visibly battling with mental issues. He couldn’t be certain if these had been brought upon the boy by the eruption of the volcano, or if he had simply been born that way, but if it was the latter, his and Zuriel’s family had never carried mental illnesses. And he had solid evidence, from his sister’s own lips on that cruel day, that Elias had.

“Your mother was my litter sister. My youngest sister from our mother’s first litter. And…”

He warred with his natural inclination toward honestly, and the knowledge that this young man was currently very stressed, and not in a good place mentally. His eyes dropped away, scanning the grasses ahead, before he spotted a familiar plant among the winter foliage. Nodding to it, he offered, “I have an inclination to be honest. The first time I heard of your… sire… gave me great reason to hate his very being. It is a story I feel you should know. Yet you are very clearly in a mental state that may not handle the truth of what I have to say well. Will lavender help you relax? Are you willing to face this?”

Fathomless, depth-less sapphire eyes gazed at the young wolf, not judging, not blaming or hating. It wasn’t Dominus’ fault that his sire had hurt Zuriel all that time ago. But he was patient. Either way, he’d heard the whine the boy’d given, and the lavender could help regardless of whether a true story was told tonight or not.