“Mommy, I’m a fierce hunter.” I correct her indignantly, rolling my eyes at her silliness. There are some things Mommies just don’t understand. “Deadly pred-ters are not sweet.” “Says who?” She inquires, sounding slightly affronted.. “Um, says everyone.” I explain, as if it’s the most obvious thi
The door had been closed, and there hadn’t been another way out, but I still find myself scolding the young tabby. “Pancake what are you doing? Don’t you know ‘bout fire alarms? They mean you have to get outs!” Shaking my head, I scoop up the fluffy creature, “What are you doing in a locked room any
Ella Tears are streaming down Sinclair’s face as he relives his Mother’s death, and I’m doing my best not to burst into outright sobs. My heart aches for the little boy he once was, and for the burden he obviously still carries today. Hearing this story, I understand that his last conversation with
“Shhh,” Sinclair tucks my head under his chin, stroking my spine. “It’s okay, little wolf. I know.” “Stop comforting me! I’m supposed to be comforting you.” I complain. Trying and failing to wriggle free. “You are.” Sinclair lies – the rat. “It comforts me just holding you this way.” Settling, I
Ella Hugo, Sinclair and I are all staring at the television with wide eyes and slack jaws, unable to process the images flitting across the screen. It seems like every time we manage to take a few steps forward, Lydia and the Prince find a way to send us reeling back – and this is no exception.
“Well of course not.” Hugo scoffs, “You don’t need to convene a blue-ribbon committee to tell you this is all fucked six ways to Sunday.” “No, I mean, I feel like I’m missing something.” Sinclair replies drying. “There’s something bothering me and I just can’t put my finger on it.” “Well, you’ve
Ella When Sinclair and Hugo finally leave for the pack headquarters, Henry and I move into our favorite sitting room, returning to the puzzle we began solving together earlier this week. Seated across from the older wolf, I pretend to scan the scattered puzzle pieces for matches, while really snea
“I know.” I laugh, snatching up a distinctive puzzle piece belonging to my current focus area. “But I think I got us distracted. I was asking you about Lydia.” “Darling, when you have all day, diversions are a blessing, not a curse.” Henry advises warmly, patting the arms of his wheelchair. “The f
He shakes his head at me as tears fill his own eyes and he leans forward, pulling me against him while somehow miraculously managing not to crush our children between us as he holds me tight in his arms. “So, I guess it wouldn’t matter,” he murmurs against my hair as I sniff back my tears and nod.
“Even more than the kids!?” I gasp, my mouth falling open a bit. “I mean, the kids,” he says, shrugging as if they’re not much, which makes me laugh. But then he goes a little rigid as he realizes something, raising his eyes to glare at me a bit. “Wait, are you saying you like the kids more than m
Ella “Nope,” Sinclair says, heaving himself out of bed and grabbing his phone off the bedside table as he does. “I can’t live like this, Ella – I’m calling Roger, I’ve got to know –“ “Dominic!” I say, laughing and grabbing for him, trying to catch the edge of his pajamas and failing because I’v
She laughs and I look first at Sinclair, who shrugs, and then back at my sister. “Come on,” Roger says, nodding at the crowds of people waiting to congratulate us and at the small table of refreshments. “Let’s decide this over some champagne.” Sinclair nods at me and I sigh, moving with my famil
The last image, though, lingers. Ariel, with Rafe and Jesse on either side – as they always are – and her two mates behind her. All standing together on a battlefield with Ariel at the center, magic welling between her hands and passing to her brother, to her cousin. Their faces are serious as t
Cora The images of Ariel’s future come in quick flashes, and somehow I get the impression that the Goddess is eager to share these glimpses of her life. The ones that come first are what I sort of expected, especially after seeing some images of Rafe’s childhood and hearing about the ones that
“We are not,” Cora scoffs, gently taking Ariel into her arms as Sinclair and I laugh. Roger grins, leaning forward to kiss me on the cheek before passing Jesse to me. “You know I’m kidding, right, Ells?” he whispers. I smile at my brother-in-law and gently pat his cheek. “When in doubt, Roger,”
Ella Three weeks later – Ariel was born under a waning quarter moon, not a new moon like her brother and her cousin – I stand anxiously in the woods, my little girl held tight in my arms. “I’m sensing some anxiety,” Cora says, grinning at me with a little too much glee as she comes up to my sid
“Oh my god,” I say, the words spilling out of my mouth. “Oh my god,” I sit up straight, staring at Henry, my eyes flicking to his legs – because honestly, I don’t even notice his chair anymore, or think of him at all as someone whose abilities are hindered. Or of me as someone who is able to do an