A Greek god.
That was the first thing that Freya could think of when she saw her mother crying in the arms of the man who she knew was her father, when she saw her sister, Lucille, a mere feet away from them, waiting to be included.
Her father was a Greek god.
She ignored Aiden’s gruff of jealousy in her mind, and admired the man that was her father.
He was tall, very tall. Standing at more than about 6’3″. His body was strong and athletic, like he could easily run fast or lift heavy things. His skin was a warm, golden tan, as if he spends a lot of time in the sun, as if he wasn’t as they that spent the daytime underground.
His face was perfectly shaped, with high cheekbones and a strong, square jawline. He had thick, dark eyebrows that give him a look of determination, and his nose was straight and perfectly proportioned.
His hair was long, dark and wavy, falling past his shoulders, like a prince in a fairytale. From his gait, Freya could tell that when her father moves, it’s with a graceful confidence, like he knew exactly where he’s going and what he’s doing. A striking man to put in a few words.
‘Stop it.’
Freya snorted mentally. Aiden’s caveman-ness was sometimes unnecessary. But she had returned at the right time.
Her eyes caught the ancients, caught her lifemate who winked at her passionately, having abandoned his grievances at a record time and then at Curtis who was with a woman, his mother presumably. He must have returned during the time that Yodah had taken them away for the information about Eva.
She also noticed the leather brown bag that was slung across his shoulder, and waist. She hoped that it contained the evidence that his father had been using against Alpha Peter. But then she wondered why he had brought his mother. Wasn’t that risky?
Her attention was drawn back to her parents when her father noticed her, when he noticed Lucille.
“They are ours?”
She watched as her father disengaged from the hug with her mother and covered the distance between him and Lucille first. Not even waiting for her astounded sister to acknowledge him or say a word in greeting, he grabbed her into his arms and hugged her as if wanting to immerse Lucille into himself. Freya felt the hug right in her heart, especially as she saw the blood red tear that slipped from his eyes.
She shifted on her feet when his eyes found hers.
“You must be Freya.” He said, and Freya suddenly didn’t know how to move, how to think, or what to do with her hands which seemed lighter than air, as if they just weren’t present.
She watched with a thumping heart and an almost breathless state when he disengaged from the hug with a crying Lucille, and walked up to her, as if he knew that she wouldn’t be able to meet him right there, as if he knew she had been struck numb.
His eyes seemed to be his most powerful asset. They had all taken his eyes. His gray ones were Lucille’s eyes. And then the blue flecks that fought with gray especially now that he was emotional, she had taken it, only that the blue had won over in her case. Emma had taken their mother’s eyes, but she had also grabbed the golden rings. Freya had seen it just before the latter had killed Casper.
She could see the rings burning bright now, and she was entranced. She had never seen such a combination of eye color. It was mystic. Was it because he was the prince? She stopped thinking, her mind went numb when he stepped into her space.
There was no words exchanged right before he hugged her, but Freya could read the emotion in her father’s eyes, could see the apology written in there as if it had been his fault that they had all grown up without him, could read the awe and wonder at seeing how amazingly she had grown up, could read the pride that only a father would have for his daughter.
Freya knew then that she was finally home, that everything would be fine, that Emma would pull through, only because her family was complete.
***
Tempest fell to the ground for the second time after staggering away from Keturah’s house when she had heard her friend, her mother and her cousin coming toward the entrance door. She had only returned to eat, for she knew that Keturah would prepare something that would be eaten. She had thought that her mother, and her cousin would still be asleep.
She had thought to slither in, eat and then head back to the other hideout, but she had returned to hear them talking, she had returned to hear the exact moment when Margo had said that Malone was Esther’s father.
At first, she had bit back a chuckle, thinking that the former was joking, that the former was trying for an inside joke which she alone had been privileged to know and hear aforetime, but then she had heard the tears and her world had been shattered again, after Leonarya had betrayed her.
Tempest tried to force herself up to keep going down the thick forest which had gone almost black because it was midnight, but it was like the weight of the pain had broken her knees and had broken her back.
Malone.
She had loved Malone, still loved Malone. She had chosen him over Leonarya. She had held onto him despite him being a human who was interested in the supernaturals.
She had married him, despite her mother’s displeasure of the disunity it had caused in the family.
Tempest wanted to gauge her heart out.