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One True Mate: Shifter's Lullaby (Kindle Worlds Novella)

Page 3

by Savan Robbins


  “What do you need me to do?”

  Selina squealed and clapped her hands again. “Just keep the bear on the right path and leave the wolf to me. But first, we’ve got some babies to talk to.”

  Rhyann groaned. “Do you have any idea how crazy that sounds? Negotiating with babies? You know that’s always a hundred times harder than talking to an adult.”

  Selina waved her hand over the water. “Yes, yes, but we’ve done way more complicated stuff. But we’ve got this because we’re awesome. Now shush up. I need to concentrate...”

  Chapter Four

  Bru was freaking out. Like, seriously freaking out. After he punched Mac in the head with his left hand (which had to be the right thing to do, because, statistically speaking, he probably hit Mac with about 13.8% less force than he would have if he hit him with his right hand and had obviously prevented Mac from the vegetative state he could have possibly rendered him into if he had actually hit him with his right hand, because science) Mac’s head whipped hard to the right and he slumped into the passenger seat. And then he went still. Deathly still. And he had been that way for the past four minutes and twenty-six seconds. And it scared the crap out of Bru.

  As he drove, every few minutes or so he reached over and checked Mac’s pulse. It was beating strong and sure, but he was just so damn still. Bru felt a lump start to form in his throat.

  “Oh, man,” he groaned, as he squeezed the steering wheel tight. If he had done anything to hurt his BWF, his best wolf friend, he didn’t know what —

  He’s fine, sweet bear. He’s just asleep. You didn’t hurt him. His head is a lot harder than you think. But it’s very sweet that you care about him so much. He is very lucky to have such a good friend like you.

  There was that voice again. And, just like before, it made him feel better. Bru let out a breath that he hadn’t even realized he was holding. “Mac said you were talking to him, too? What’s your name?” he asked. He glanced over at his sleeping best friend and then focused back on the road.

  He’s actually talking to someone else. But we’re essentially telling you both the same things. Have you ever heard of guardian angels? My name is Rhyann, by the way.

  Bru’s eyes grew wide. “What? You’re my guardian angel? And you’re talking to me right now!? This is so cool! I have so many questions. What’s the meaning of life? Why are we all here? Why doesn’t healthy food taste good? I mean, if we’re supposed to be all healthy and stuff, why can’t carrot sticks taste like cheese puffs? Why can’t spaghetti squash taste like actual spaghetti? But, wait! Oh my gosh, you’re an ANGEL! That’s gotta be awesome. What’s that like? Can you fly? Do you sleep? What’s your favorite food? Mine is—"

  Whoa, whoa, whoa! The voice laughed. It was a sweet and breezy sound that was unlike anything Bru had ever heard before, but it reminded him of wind chimes. I’m your guardian angel, not a Google Heaven app. There are lots of things I don’t have the answers to. But what I can tell you is that I have been your heavenly protector your whole life, even before you had an actual body. I’ve known you since you were an itty bitty, fuzzy little cub that was hanging out up here with me.

  Bru’s eyes grew even wider. “I was in the Haven?? When?”

  To some, it’s called the Haven, others know it as Heaven, but they are both one and the same. And yes, you were here. All babies start their life’s journey from this place many years - even what you would call decades - before they are born, in a huge nursery we call the Mitera. You were here until you were ready to be born into the realm where you currently reside. Then, once you live your life there, if you’re lucky, once you die, you’ll come back here and the process starts all over again.

  “You mean like with past lives? Really??” Bru asked in surprise. He reached over to check Mac’s pulse again. Still strong as ever. Good. “Ok, so who was I before? Have I always been a firefighter? Or was I somebody cool like a rock star, or a Sherpa, or a guy who ran a hot dog cart. Now that would have been awesome. I like hot dogs.”

  Laughter rang out in his head again.

  You’ve always been one of my favorites, silly bear. But you’ve got to stay focused. Maybe one of these days we’ll work on getting your questions answered, but, right now, we’ve got some important stuff we need to do and I need you to help me out, okay?

  Bru instantly sat up straighter in the driver’s seat and shifted his hands to the ten and two o’clock positions on the steering wheel. All business bear. It was go-time.

  “Okay, what do you need me to do?”

  For now, just keep driving as you have been. We have a few things we need to do up here and your buddy Mac has a…well, a bit of discovery ahead of him. When he wakes up, he’s going to need your support. Even if he doesn’t think he does.

  Bru’s brow furrowed as his eyes darted from the road to Mac and back again. “Is he going to be okay? He’s not—”

  He’ll be fine. Bru heard a smile in the voice. It’s just something Mac has to do right now. He needs to do this not just for himself, but to find the babies, too.

  Bru blinked hard and gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Are the babies okay? I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to them.” He really didn’t. They were Ella and Trevor’s kids, but he loved them as if they were his own. He smiled at the thought of one day having babies with his precious love, Willow. They would be gorgeous kids, he just knew it. And, he swore to Rhen, he would not lose them or let anything happen to them. Ever.

  Oh, Bru, sweet bear. They are fine. They are perfectly safe and sound. In fact, they are here.

  Bru’s eyes flew open in horror and the car swerved a bit. “What? Why?? Are they dead?!? Oh my god!!”

  No! NO! Calm down, now, they aren’t dead. I told you they are fine. Why and how they got here is… well, it’s complicated. But they are perfectly safe. But it’s up to Mac to help bring them back. The voice sighed. This is way more complicated than I thought. I swear, I’m going to choke Selina the next time I…

  “Wait, who’s Selina? What did she do?” Bru asked. Then a second later, his stomach growled. Loudly. Bru blushed. He was so embarrassed.

  Are you hungry?

  Bru shook his head. “No, I’m good. Gotta stay focused, right?”

  The voice laughed again.

  I know you didn’t eat. You were in such a rush when you discovered that the babies were missing, you both ran out and missed lunch. Isn’t that right, sweet bear?

  Bru shook his head. Then he thought better of it and sheepishly nodded. She was his guardian angel, for Rhen’s sake, so she’d totally know if he was lying, anyway.

  That was absolutely the right thing to do. You always do the right thing. Mac will be out for a bit, so you can stop and get some food. I know you can keep him safe and eat at the same time, right?

  Bru nodded.

  And I just happen to know of a guy with an awesome hot dog cart not too far from where we are right now. Just keep heading this way. Don’t worry, sweet bear. Everything will be just fine.

  Bru sighed and kept driving. He’d keep Mac safe as he always would and he was happy that the babies were okay, but this whole thing seemed like such a big mess. But, for some reason, a reason he didn’t even understand, he just knew everything would be fine. His guardian angel said so, so it had to be true, right? His stomach rumbled in reply.

  “Okay, a quick chili dog and we’ll be on our way,” he said to Mac’s sleeping form as he took the next exit off the interstate.

  Chapter Five

  Mac felt good. Really good. So good that it made no sense at all, considering that Bru had damn near knocked his brains out. He was pretty sure his eyeballs were probably loose and rolling around in his head or he was missing a few teeth, but he’d worry about that later. Yep, right this minute, he was just gonna bask in all the feel-goodness.

  With his eyes still closed, he took in a deep breath. The air felt warm and pleasant on his skin and it smelled sweet. Like sugar and vanilla…and Play
doh. The corners of his mouth kicked up in a small smile. Something about that scent brought back warm memories. Memories of a time when everything was right in the world. Because the scent reminded him of Kensie. But that was impossible, because his sweet little baby sister was long gone. And yet, he could still smell it. And then he heard the humming.

  Mac’s eyes flew open. He sat straight up and heard a squeak to his left, and his eyes widened in surprise as he took in his surroundings.

  He was lying on a white four-poster twin bed. As big and tall as he was, his feet hung off the edge, and, when he looked down at the comforter and the stuffed animals spread across it, his breath caught in his throat. An assortment of dolls and stuffed animals, some of which he knocked over when he sat up, were strewn all over the bed. As far as he could tell, he was in a child’s room - a little girl’s room, specifically - so there wasn’t much that was surprising in that revelation. But the one thing that stabbed him in his guts was the pink fuzzy pillow at the foot of the bed, with the sparkly, curlicued, lower-case “k” embroidered on it. He knew that pillow. He had that pillow.

  In fact, that pillow had been wrapped in a blanket, packed carefully in a box and stored in the back of his hall closet. The hall closet in his own home. There was no way that pillow should even be here. He picked it up and frowned. It couldn’t have been the same pillow, there was no way. If it was, there would be a little something on the back… Mac flipped the pillow over.

  And there it was: the lower-case letter “m”.

  It was small and had been hand-stitched on by little four-year-old fingers. Fingers that were poked repeatedly with the needle they weren’t supposed to have in the first place, but were determined to sew that tiny and crooked little letter on. Mac was speechless. How could this be?

  He looked around and slowly took in the toys all around, the toy chest, the dresser, the rocking chair and, finally, the small table and chairs in the center of the room. Sunlight was streaming in through a window and he noticed the rays glinting off some silverware on the table. He swung his legs off the bed and felt his bootless feet hit the floor. Where were his boots?

  “They’re on the floor, silly. Where they are s’posed to be. Mama said no shoes on the bed,” a bubbly, excited, and familiar voice said. Mac’s heart skipped a beat.

  A little girl slowly and carefully walked into the room holding a tray covered with two bowls, two boxes of cereal, and a carton of milk. Her steps were measured and deliberate and she gripped the handled tray with fierce determination, as if she were carrying a tray of fine china.

  She was dressed in the cutest little pink dress, with matching shiny pink shoes and frilly socks. She had pink ribbons woven through her golden blond ponytails and the rays of sun shining brightly in the room seemed to dance and curl around her head like a halo. Kensie was the prettiest little girl Mac had known as a kid, and, even all these years later, she still was.

  Mac swallowed hard. “Yeah, Mama would be really upset if you dropped that tray, too…” The joking words fell out after he struggled to find his voice. None of this made any sense, but he still had that good feeling going, so he figured he’d just roll with it. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed his baby sister until that very moment.

  Kensie’s little brow furrowed as she walked the last few steps then confidently set the tray on the table. She pushed it firmly forward, made sure that everything was well and truly disaster-free, then spun around and faced him as she threw her little arms up into the air.

  “See, I didn’t drop it. I did it!” She clapped her hands and smiled brightly at him. The glee and triumph of a job well done shone in her eyes. She was so proud of her amazing feat. And he was proud of her, too. Mac couldn’t help but grin back at her.

  “C’mere,” he said, as he threw his arms open wide. “Come here and give me a hug, Pretty Princess.” Kensie waited less that a heartbeat before she launched herself into his arms. Mac gripped her tiny body tight as he buried his nose in her hair. He inhaled her sweet and perfect little girl scent, all sugar, vanilla, Playdoh, and sunshine. Mac had never been one to tear up about anything, and he knew he wouldn’t now, but, damn, he had really missed this little girl.

  “You’re so big. And you smell funny,” Kensie mumbled into his chest. She squeezed him as tight as her little arms could before she pushed back and stared into his face. “And you have hair on your chin. You look so funny.” She giggled. “But she said you look different now. You want some cereal?” She scrambled off his lap before Mac had a chance to answer and began to arrange the bowls on the table. Of course he wanted some cereal. Obviously, there was no other answer to that.

  Mac stood and walked the step and a half it took to get to the table and pulled out a small chair. He sat on it carefully, hoping that his large frame wouldn’t crush it, but it seemed sturdy enough.

  In the thirty or so seconds it took him to get settled, Kensie had set a bowl, spoon, and a box of cereal in front of him, arranged stuffed animals in the other seats around the table, and put a tiara on her head. Evidently, the Pretty Princess was hosting a cereal party and he was invited. And there was no place he’d rather be.

  He was just about to reach for his box of cereal when he heard a scrambling sound at the door, then two distinct bumping sounds.

  “Oh, please do come in,” Kensie said, as she picked up a pink teapot and poured imaginary tea into a stuffed teddy bear’s teacup. The teddy bear’s name was Charles. Mac knew this because the teddy bear had a hand-labeled name tag stuck to its chest and Mac recognized the writing as his own. One summer, Kensie had begged him to make nametags for all her stuffed animals because she said that her dollies were always so sad because they could never remember each other’s names when she invited them to her parties. And so, he did.

  The door bumped open and two of the cutest little wolf pups tumbled over themselves into the room. They scurried over to the table as one jumped up in to Kensie’s lap and licked her cheek and the other bounded over and up into Mac’s lap. He scooted the chair back a bit.

  “Hey, you’re a cute little thing,” he said, as he picked up the warm ball of fur and looked at the little pup’s face. It sniffed at him as he held it close to his own face and licked his nose.

  “Aw, he’s kind of cute.”

  “He is a she. They both are,” Kensie said, as she set the wolf pup that was in her lap in a chair next to her. She pointed to a chair next to Mac. “She can sit there. It’s time to eat and we don’t want our tea to get cold.”

  Mac couldn’t help but smile as he placed the little pup in the chair next to him. Both pups sat up on their haunches and watched Kensie as she poured imaginary tea into their cups. Mac poured some cereal in his bowl and did the same for Kensie.

  “Why, thank you, kind sir,” she said, as she waited for him to pour the milk. He did and then they both settled in to eat.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes, then Kensie began to hum as she chewed. That always made him smile. You could always tell when Kensie liked what she was eating. If she didn’t, you wouldn’t hear a peep out of her. That, and she probably wouldn’t eat it. Mac grabbed the teacups that were in front of the pups, filled them both with cereal, and set them back in front of them. The pups gingerly licked at the cereal, then began to eat. One pup had gorgeous dark, chocolate-brown fur and she ate her cereal one piece at a time. The other pup had honey-brown fur that was white at her paws and looked like little mittens. She crunched her cereal merrily with her nose deep in the cup. Mac chuckled.

  “What are their names, princess?” He asked, as he chewed a mouthful of cereal.

  “I don’t know,” Kensie said. “Their mama and daddy haven’t told them yet so they don’t know, either.” She took another big bite of cereal and began to hum again. Mac looked at the honey-colored pup, then at the darker one thoughtfully. There was something about the way they looked at him, with their coffee-brown eyes. There was just something about them both that seemed almost famil
iar, even though he had never laid eyes on either of them before. But he just couldn’t put a finger on it.

  “Really? They haven’t told them their names yet? I wonder why that is.”

  “Oh, they haven’t met them yet. But they will. They just aren’t ready yet.”

  “Who isn’t ready? The pups?” Mac was confused.

  “No, silly. Their mama and daddy aren’t ready. So, they stay here with me until they are.” Kensie pushed back her chair and ran over to her toy chest and began to rummage through the contents. Mac looked at the pups again and they stared back at him. The honey-colored one had a tiny piece of cereal stuck to her snout. He reached over and carefully removed the cereal from her fuzzy little face and, she licked his hand. He grinned.

  Kensie bounded back over to Mac, hopped into his lap, wrapped a pink, blue, and white feather boa around his neck, and placed a black plastic top hat on his head.

  “What’s this?” He asked, clearly enjoying her attention.

  “You forgot to get dressed up for the cereal party, so I had to dress you up for story time.” She hopped up, grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the rocking chair. He allowed her to “pull” him up and he ambled over to the chair. The pups tumbled out of their chairs and followed close behind.

  “Ok, so,” he said, as he sat down and watched as she and the pups scrambled into his lap. Mac waited patiently while all three of the warm little bodies settled on him. “Who is reading the first book?” Kensie had an amazing imagination and would tell him the funniest stories when she was little. She was just learning how to read when she was… Mac closed his eyes for a moment. Damn.

  “No books,” Kensie said quickly, as she squeezed his hand. “I have to tell you the story. She told me to tell you a story.”

  Mac’s brow furrowed. “You said something about a “she” telling you something before. Who is that? What’s her name?”

 

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