‘We’re happy to have you in our growing family,” Bishop says, and when he smiles I can see how much he cares for my mates…and now me.

My heart warms as we stand up and he gives me a hug that feels like I’ve just been welcomed into the fold.

“I think we need to get you back home so you can call your grandfather,” Erik says, and I nod in agreement.

I think of the long list of things I need to take care of as reality comes back to me. At least now I have the two of them to help me navigate which way to go.

“Can I use your bathroom before I go?” I say, and Bishop nods.

“There’s one in the hallway, but Ravana is having it redone. She thinks I need to redecorate,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Why don’t you use the one in my room? It’s just down the hall.” He points, and Ezra takes my hand.

“I’ll show her,” he says as he pulls me from the room.

Bishop says something over my shoulder I don’t catch, but Ezra laughs as he leads me to the back of the house.

There’s a dark door at the back of the house that Ezra pushes open casually. “It’s right through there.” He points and then slaps me on my ass.

I squeak but smile back at him as I walk to where he told me to go. I glance around the room and see an easel in the corner with tons of canvases and paper all around it.

“Bishop paints?” I ask, surprised. He doesn’t seem like the type to want to get messy, but I guess everyone has a hobby.

“I don’t know,” Ezra says as he walks over with a curious look on his face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him do it.”

I follow him over there to look because all of the pictures are facing away from us. When I take a step around the easel and see what’s sitting there I’m confused.

“Who is that?” Ezra says, and I open my mouth to answer him.

“What’s wrong?” Erik asks from the door, with Bishop beside him. “I can feel something isn’t right.”

“Why do you have a painting of her?” I say, my eyebrows pulling together in concentration.

Bishop tucks his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t understand,” Ezra says, looking between me and Bishop.

“I’ve painted her since I was created. I’ve never met her, but I think she might have been my mate. I never found her, but she’s the only thing I see when I dream.” He dips his head and for a moment I wonder why he looks shy. “I’m not very good, but I can’t get her out of my mind.”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” I say, and everyone looks at me. “Why would you keep painting pictures of Gordon’s daughter?”

“What?” Bishop says, and then it falls so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

“I recognize the birthmark on her shoulder,” I say, pointing to the painting. No matter what Bishop says, he’s talented because this looks exactly like her. “That’s Loren.”

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