Wolf Song (Wolf Singer Prophecies Book 1)

commanded her to sleep.
I felt guilty. It wasn't my place to command a rama, even a ramina, but I didn't think it would hurt to encourage her to sleep.
The same was true now. It wouldn't hurt to encourage her to get the hell off this rooftop and into the safety of her extremely secure house.
"How?" she asked again.
I pushed her, my hand wanting more of her skin rather than the clothes she wore. Soon.
"How did I get up here? I flew. How did we get close enough to be here? The preacher did a great job setting up the barriers, but he placed a loophole in order to protect you in case something happened when he left."
She drew in a gasp. Evidently there was an issue there, one that I would save for later to inquire about.
"And what was that?" she said.
"The preacher allowed for the passage of those who would love you and only want to protect you. We were able to pass through." Well, for the most part, but I didn’t need to talk to her about that yet.
I didn’t doubt the rest of the pack wanted to protect her. But the preacher used his scriptures well: though they wanted to protect her, they didn’t love her, nor did they think they would. At least not now.
I knew. I had known since I’d first seen her, heard her voice. I had found both a partner and a queen.
She blinked at me, and I could get lost in those eyes. The sheen of silver had already started to emerge like the secret moon over her green and gold eyes.
Yes, she was a ramina all right.
To me, though, she was already my rama.
Soleil
He was crazy.
But he was still trying to get me off the roof. I was supposed to be thinking of my own safety first, dammit, and not letting myself get distracted.
He would have gotten me too. He was faster than my own reflexes, faster than I could have gotten the gun up to shoot him even at this range.
If he had wanted to kill me he could have, probably in many inventive ways.
Damn.
"Here, let me escort you back."
I let him lead, but only because it made the most sense. Besides, I wanted to be back in the shelter of the house.
It didn't escape me that there was a push in his voice, though. I was the daughter of a preacher; I could tell when there was some smoothness in the words, like there was some play.
Maybe...he might have known my dad? From Before? Or even now?
No, it was silly to think that. That would be the biggest coincidence.
But how many word mages were there really? Preachers?
He led me to the rooftop entrance. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the raven. So that wasn't him.
"How?" I asked again.
Something else caught my eye. Movement in the tree line below. He didn't seem concerned, and the ones that were there weren't making a move closer, so I felt okay with it.
He started talking again, and I sort of tuned him out, paying attention to others. Even if he was leading me to safety, I still didn't trust him. Then I tuned in when he said preacher.
"A loophole? What was that?" What the hell? My dad would never leave anything out in his preaching. His words were tight, like basket woven so that even a drip couldn’t escape from it. "He wouldn't leave an opening for a loophole."
He smiled, revealing some fang. "He didn't leave an opening, ramina. He allowed for it. It was on purpose."
I slid over what that implied, what with the talk of love and protection. Dread upset my stomach. I hated to think that my dad had been making contingency plans. Like he had known that he wouldn't be around, and not just because of some accidental snatching or killing. Like he had planned to leave.
I refused to acknowledge that.
'Sides, he had come back, hadn't he? Left me that book, before darting away? And then coming back again so that he was now resting in the church, the safest place for him to be, except for here?
So many questions, but I was comforted by reminding myself of the facts. He was back. He had made provisions. He was just being safe and proactive and looking to the future. Not trying to leave me.
There was no hint of him facing the Long Walk, and that reassured me even more. .
I slipped as we reached the opening, then gained footing on the top of the ladder. I hesitated and looked up at the one waiting there. Creed. That was his name, right?
"Hey. I know that if you wanted to kill me you could have. So thanks for not killing me."
He barked a laugh that seemed to surprise him more than me. "You're most welcome, ramina."
I cocked my brow and wondered if I was going insane. Probably. But he hadn't tried to kill me and he knew about my father, even if it was in a vague kind of way. "Look, I don't invite anyone in. No one. Mostly because, well, no one could ever make it up this way." Which was on purpose. "If I invite you in, would you tell me about my father? And maybe how you were able to come here at all?"
Tiny mercurial shifts of emotion flickered over his face and I suddenly felt this need to draw what I'd seen there. My mother had the gift for drawing, and even conjuring what she'd drawn sometimes, but his face made me want to try harder at my sketches.
"Yes," he finally breathed, as if he waited to say that his entire life. "I would do anything you asked, ramina."
I had started to step down, but paused.
"Yeah, let's add this as part of the condition. My name is Soleil. You may call me that or Soli or some other variation of Sun like everyone else. That is what I will respond to.