unconditional (BOOK #2) [TO BE PUBLISHED]

Chapter 19

A/N:SAME OLD, SAME OLD. Enjoy :)

Chapter 19 (Chelsea POV)

 I didn’t know what to expect with Greta and the knowledge she had about my mother; I closed the door behind me, smiling nervously at Greta, putting out of mind that last text message.

We walked to where they were staying, it was mostly me talking, and asking questions to get to know Greta and her mate. I’m not sure if it was a stalling technique or what but I found out that she was from Greece, Zeke and her both. She is over 290 years old, met her mate when she was almost 30 years old and they had a total of ten children, which didn’t surprise me, werewolves tended to have upwards of six; Nico, Marx, Silas, Stepheno, Castor, Oscar, Xavier, Ian, Ambrose and Anya. She had one daughter, which she named after my mother, Anya.

Her eldest son took over the main pack back in Greece, and her other children were really scattered around, majority of them living somewhere within California, two in Canada and two in Boston.

When I was finally brave enough, I took the leap. “How long did you know my mother?” I asked.

“I met your mother in 1938 and she stayed with me until 1964, Zeke and I were traveling, Zeke and her helped pulled me from a sharp cliff. We started talking and at first she was shy and scared, afraid of her own shadow. We invited her to come along, she- she like I said was my best friend. Many knew I was mated to Zeke and he was Alpha so they would treat me differently, but Anya, was kind and real. She helped me when I had my last children, Ambrose and Anya” she said as we stepped inside the house.

Walking to the sofa, there was a large brown trunk, three feet high and 8feet wide, and it was severely weathered.

“This is your mothers. She made this and left it with me when she went out to find her mate. It was right after I had Anya-” she paused opening the large trunk. It was filled, to the brim, with different items. There was a specific smell, mint, Jasmine and Vanilla.

Inside there where two small chests, a few clothes, and other handmade knick-knacks.

I opened one chest and found 9 sketchbooks, and three or four scrapbooks. Below that chest I removed lie a safe. “Do you have the key to this?” I pointed to it.

“No she left it all with me but took the key with her…” I nodded.

“Did you hear from her after she left?”

“No, well yes… she sent me photos, I made the scrapbooks,” she said sadly, “She never called or wrote anything just sent pictures and we could never find her,” her chin shook and she tried to smile when I met her eyes, but it was painful to watch.

“I believe that she was running from something. She never once shifted for the years I knew her, or she stayed with us. We of course never pushed her but we knew she was a shifter. Zeke and I came to the conclusion that maybe she couldn’t shift. She never called her wolf or animal name, but she smelt of shifter blood. She was so brilliant dear,” Greta gushed happily, her eyes, far away and wet.

“She wasn’t educated with degrees but she was, brilliant, able to retain any and all information, she could speak different languages and was a joy to be around.”

Greta turned to me, back to the present but eyes still glassy, “She wasn’t a painter like you but she could draw, drew many many beautiful portraits of my family, never letting us pay her. She would tell us not to tell others who did them, as we hung them around our home but she was very talented.” I had yet to really touch anything, so I leaned over to get a scrapbook. Taking a deep breath because I still did not know what she looked like. Attentively I slowly flipped the cover over. The first page had a dated picture on it and I could instantly tell she was my birth mother, she was young in the photo, it was hand draw, but we had similarities. She looks like me,” I whispered despite myself except for one feature.