by Viola Rivard
Though he wanted to go straight to her, he hung in the doorway, watching her with the pup. It was swaddled in a blue blanket and laid across her chest, on her breast. Even though Cain had told him how old the pup was, he was still taken aback by how small it was. Its head was barely the size of Taylor’s breast, and it fit neatly into her cradling hand.
She must have sensed him. Without looking up, she said, “His name is Henry.” There was poorly contained excitement in her voice. “Like, that’s his actual name. It has to be a sign, Hale.”
He recognized it as the awful human name that Taylor had tried for months to give to Shadow.
“It’s a sign that his mother had the same bad taste as you,” he said, though he could admit to himself that it was interesting.
Hale had hoped to make her laugh, but her face darkened.
“Whatever.”
He hated that word.
Irritation would not serve him now. He pushed it back, reminding himself that she was at least a little justified in being upset with him.
“Who’s his father?” he asked, sauntering into the room.
Taylor shrugged. “The mom didn’t know him. Sounds like a one night stand.”
Hale clicked his tongue. He wasn’t familiar with the expression, but he understood it in context.
“What kind of male beds a human and doesn’t wait around to see if they made a pup?”
Hale had learned from his years among Cain and Sarah that a female didn’t need to smell fertile to conceive, it was simply a strong indicator that she would. If this male had wanted to bed a female without any potential for offspring, he should have chosen one of his own kind.
“Maybe he didn’t think he’d be a good father,” she said. “You sure didn’t.”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have gotten you pregnant and then ditched you.”
Taylor sniffed. “No, you’d just wait until after your pups are born.”
How had he left himself so open for that one?
He reached for a comeback, or some sort of counter, but could find none.
After a moment, Taylor sighed. “I’m sorry. That was a low blow.”
“No, it—Taylor, where the fuck is his arm?”
Hale had just been in the middle of possibly apologizing when he noticed that the pup’s right arm was not wrapped in the swaddle as he presumed. It just…wasn't there. In its place was an unblemished stump. It reminded him of his pack mate Geon’s middle finger, which had been bitten off when he was a juvenile, leaving nothing but a healed nub in it's place.
Taylor looked affronted and pulled the pup closer to her. “Don’t swear in front of him and forget about the arm.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Forget about the arm? Taylor, the pup has no arm. I’d like to at least know why.”
Resignation washed over her face, and she nodded. “It’s a birth defect. Sarah said there’s nothing wrong with him. He was just born without one of his arms.”
Hale crouched down to get a better look at the pup. He ran his thumb over the space where the arm should have been. The pup twitched but was too focused on nursing to pay Hale any mind.
“How does this even happen?” he wondered aloud.
“I don’t know much about it,” Taylor admitted. “I’ve seen human babies born like this. My guess is that it’s something genetic, or just a fluke that happens when the baby is developing.”
As she spoke, she brushed his hand away from the pup. “Are you clean?” she asked. “You’ve probably been out ripping apart bunnies with those hands.”
Hale planted his hand on Taylor’s face and then up her hair as she tried squirming away.
“No bunnies tonight, just hauling around corpses.”
“Please, tell me you’re joking!”
She was trying to look outraged, but Hale could hear the laughter in her voice. He felt a rush of affection for her and had to bite down on his lip to keep from kissing her.
He smoothed her hair back into place. “Relax. I washed up.”
“With soap?”
“With soap.”
During their mock tussle, the pup had been slightly jostled, enough to lose his latch. He immediately started to fuss, issuing a plaintive cry to Taylor. She switched him to her other arm, giving him a bounce and a shush as she helped him to latch onto her other breast.
“Maybe it will grow back after he shifts,” Hale mused.
Taylor appeared hopeful. “You think so?”
He considered it for another moment and then frowned. “Maybe not. I’ve seen skin regenerate, but never a limb, once it’s been severed. This is different, but a missing limb is a missing limb.”
He scooted closer, leaning back against the pillows with her. She shifted closer to him, not quite leaning on him.
“He needs to be nursed, at least for a few months,” she said. “Sarah said she would take him back, but I—”
Hale bristled. “You’d just give him back? He’ll have already bonded with you by then.”
Taylor shot him a hard look. “If you’d let me finish, I was going to say that I don’t want to give him back. He’ll need extra attention, and I think Halcyon’s better equipped to take care of him. We’ll have to talk to Alder about it, of course.”
He relented to his instincts, snaking an arm around her back and resting his hand on her belly. Taylor went limp against him, her soft body fitting perfectly in the contours of his own. He rested his cheek on the top of her head and filled his nose with her soothing scent.
They sat like that for a while. Taylor alternated between humming and carrying on a one-sided conversation with Hale, telling him about how the pup slept—poorly—and how many times he’d nursed—three—and how many times she’d changed his linens—twice. As always, he listened with half an ear, more interested in her presence than in making small talk.
“Shadow hasn’t come in to nurse yet,” she said. “I’m starting to get worried. I was going to go find him after this feeding.”
“He’s fine. Sound asleep,” Hale said, not mentioning the venison. He wasn’t sure how Taylor would handle the knowledge that Shadow might be weaning himself.
“Ah. My sense of time is probably all screwed up. The first few weeks after the twins were born, I was in a total fog. I’m not looking forward to that.” She stroked the side of the pup’s face. “It’s a good thing you’re cute, Henry.”
“Taylor.”
“Hm?”
“Why do you want to care for him?”
She tilted her head back to look up at him. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I? He’s a baby, and he needs me.”
“But you don’t want more pups.”
Taylor stiffened. “I don’t want to have more pups of my own. But this? I can do this.”
“Why?” he asked, perhaps a bit too forcefully. “Why would you rather take in the pup of a male you don’t know rather than have another one of mine?”
That didn’t come out right. The words weren’t right. His voice wasn’t right. He should have sounded pissed off, not weak and insecure. He started to backpedal, but he could see that it was too late. She was already looking at him differently, her mouth parted, her brows drawn together, her eyes big and sad. The only time he’d ever seen that look on her face was when she came across a wounded animal.
Perhaps that’s what he was.
Her hand went to his cheek. He wanted to smack it away, but he was distracted by her eyes, which were welling up with tears. He had always told her that her crying had no effect on him, but it was only partially true. He hated seeing her cry, but most of the time she’d stop sooner if he was stern, rather than conciliatory.
“This has nothing to do with you,” she said in a quivering voice. “You’re an amazing father, and most of the time you’re a pretty good mate, too. Aside from Alder, there’s no one in the world that I’d rather have children with.”
He covered her hand with his. “Then why?”
She said, “When you
found out that I was pregnant, what was it like for you?”
“First, I regretted saying that I didn’t want to be a father,” he said. “Then, as soon as I decided that I didn’t give a damn and was going to be your mate anyway, I was thrilled. It was the most excited I’ve ever been in my life.”
He could have gone on, detailing every nuance of her pregnancy, from when he found out that they were having twins, to when he first heard their heartbeats, to when he felt them kicking him for the first time. There had been so many incredible moments along the way, he could hardly count them all.
Taylor said, “I was excited, too. But, I was also terrified. When I found out we were having twins, it was one of the most overwhelming, frightening moments of my life. Not just because I worried that I wouldn’t be a good mother, but because I was officially having a high-risk pregnancy without any doctors or a hospital that I could go to. I spent almost eight months imagining everything that could go wrong—and then things did go wrong and there was nothing that I could do. And now…” she paused to wipe tears from her cheeks. “Now, we have two beautiful, amazing children and I feel so fortunate for them every day. I don’t want to roll the dice again, Hale. Because next time, who knows? We could have a pup that dies. I could die, and then Shadow and Fawn would grow up without a mother.”
Her hand moved to his hair, stroking it as she might have done to one of the pups. “If you told me that I had to have another pup or you’d leave me, if you said that and you meant it, I would probably fold. Maybe it’s because I love you that much, or maybe it’s because I’m weak. I don’t know. Just please, please don’t put me in that position.”
Fresh tears had rolled down her face. Hale wiped them with the side of his hand and then pulled her closer, mindful of the pup between them. The pup didn’t seem to mind being wedged between the two adults. Oblivious to the emotional turmoil, he’d nodded off on Taylor’s breast and was softly snoring.
Hale said nothing for a moment. He focused his attention on the pup, gently extracting it from Taylor and resting it on his own chest. It was already taking on Taylor’s scent, though he could still smell Sarah, as well as traces of Cain and the pup’s own, underlying scent, a mixture of that of his parents.
“What are we going to do with a one-armed pup, Taylor?” He ran his hand along its back, rubbing his own scent onto it.
“Take very, very good care of him.”
Hale reached down to pull a fur up around them, cocooning the pup and his mate in his warmth. An impression flickered in his mind. He latched onto until it took shape into a distant memory.
“I held Snow like this,” he said, referring to his brother’s pup. “The night she was born, and for a while after that.”
Alder’s firstborn daughter had been born premature and on the verge of death. Still a juvenile himself, Alder had been unable to cope with the reality of a dead mate and a dying pup. He’d checked out completely, and Hale had had to step in, claiming the pup as his own so that his twin would avoid Cain’s wrath. Cain had always seemed to have it out for Hale anyway, so it hadn’t been much of a change when dislike had turned to animosity.
That first night, he had lain alone in his room, with Snow’s too-tiny body on his chest. As she’d struggled through each breath, he’d told her of her mother, a human named Dawn, and how she was fortunate to have not met her because she was a shit mother. He’d told her of his own mother, who had also been a shit mother but had smelled like summer rain and wet lavender flowers.
“Everyone thought she would die. No one would come to see her, except for our healer Fern, and even she was just checking to see if Snow had died yet. I kept talking to her about the stupidest things as if my talking was the only thing keeping her there. Like, the moment I shut my mouth, she would shut hers, too. She would stop breathing and that would be it. I kept talking to her and holding her, and she made it through the night. It didn’t matter that Alder was a wreck, that Dawn was dead, or that Cain hated me. That morning, I felt like I had done something right for the first time in my life.”
He’d been too young to bond properly with Snow. Once the early weeks had passed, he had pulled away from her, allowing the pack, and later Sarah, to step in and parent her.
That had not been the case with Fawn. He’d been fully grown and had purposely created her with his mate. The bond had been there long before she was born, small and fragile, and Hale had been ready for her. He hadn’t needed to talk to her because he had known that that wasn’t what she’d needed. All she’d needed was for him to be there with her and to hold her while she faced whatever came next.
“I can’t stop being your mate,” he said. “And I don’t want to. I just need you to understand that being a father is not some flippant desire. It’s part of who I am and has been for longer than even I have realized. If I told you that I’ll stop asking you for another pup, I’d be lying. But I understand your points and I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to.”
Taylor had yet to stop crying. She nodded against his chest, hiccuping something that sounded like, “Thank you.”
Sometimes she seemed more mature than him, and other times she seemed less emotionally sound than the average juvenile. She was six years his junior and had lived a tumultuous life. The more he learned about her past, the more it amazed him that she had grown to be all that she was—strong, affectionate, and a wonderful mother.
He would want more pups. Alder wanted more pups. That wouldn’t change, no matter how articulately Taylor argued her points. But they could wait, and if it came to it, then maybe, maybe he could settle for just Shadow and Fawn. He would wait another year before asking her again, and in the meantime, he could shift his focus to the new pup.
Hale nuzzled the top of her head. She was still weepy and clingy. Her defenses were down, which meant that it was the perfect time to avert a potential disaster.
“And just so you know, you’re not naming this one Henry, either.”
CHAPTER 5
TAYLOR WOKE to the baby crying. Hours of interrupted sleep made her particularly groggy as she aided him in latching onto a nipple. Although she was accustomed to feeding a much larger pup, Shadow was far better at emptying her breasts than the new pup which meant that they were bordering on engorged and terribly sore.
Her mouth was bone dry from the frequent nursing, and probably from all the crying she’d done. Hale was gone, but he had left water and a bowl of walnuts by the bed. Taylor guzzled down the water and then emptied the bowl a moment later, feeling a rush of gratitude towards her absent mate.
For once, Henry didn’t fall asleep when he finished nursing. His golden eyes were wide and alert, his gaze alternating between Taylor and the dimly lit room. After making a few silly faces at him and planting kisses on his too-soft skin, Taylor changed him into the last clean linen. She noticed that the other dirty linens had been spirited away, which told her that Sarah or one of the females must have come in while she’d been sleeping. Hale had many strong suits, but diapering was not one of them. In the months before the pups were housebroken, he had never once handled a diaper.
Once Henry was clean, she managed to tuck him comfortably into her shirt, needing only one arm to keep him properly supported. He burbled contentedly as she left to head down the tunnel, in search of either Shadow or Hale.
Without noticing it, she passed by the washroom. A second later, she came to a stop as she heard Sarah call out to her.
“Shadow is playing outside. Don’t worry! My daughter Carina is watching him and she’s very responsible.”
Taylor stepped back a few paces and peeked around the narrow entrance to the room. There were no candles, only two large, bright lanterns that illuminated every corner of the cavern which was higher than it was wide, and very drafty. Two tin tubs were against the wall and clothing was strung on at least a dozen lines that ran in every direction.
“Wow, you read my mind,” Taylor remarked.
Sarah was bent o
ver one of the tins, wringing the water from a tiny pair of pants.
“Mom vision. I saw you with the eyes in the back of my head. You had the where-the-heck-is-my-kid look. I’m quite familiar with that one. How’s the little one doing?”
Taylor hadn’t wanted to get sucked into a conversation, but she didn’t want to be rude. She stepped into the room, weaving around dripping clothes to get to where Sarah was standing.
“He’s doing well. He seems to be getting enough to eat. Still waiting for him to poop.”
“I’m sure he will any time now. I’ll bring you some clean diapers as soon as I’m done in here.”
Sarah dried her hands and then moved to get a closer look at Henry. While she cooed over him, Taylor looked around at all the laundry and wondered if Sarah had cleaned it all on her own. Not since the earliest days of her pregnancy had Alder or Hale allowed her to do her own laundry. Even most of the household chores were divided between Quinn and Lark, the latter of which usually just stood around and chatted while Quinn did most of the work. Taylor had protested in the beginning, but around the time the twins had been born, she’d given up and allowed herself to become accustomed to the pampering.
“I can never get over how tiny they are at this age,” Sarah whispered. “Carina was my first. She was even littler than him, and then one day, blam! She was out hunting hogs with her dad. They grow up so fast. Good thing is, there’s always a new one.”
She gave Taylor a sad smile. Taylor thought she was going to resume lamenting her menopause, but instead, she said, “I’m sorry. I really appreciate you nursing this little guy. I know it will probably mean that you’ll have to wait longer until you can get pregnant again.”
“It’s okay. Actually, I’m kind of glad. I wasn’t ready for another yet.”
Sarah’s brows shot up. “Oh. Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“No, it’s really okay.” She hesitated, and then said, “Earlier, you mentioned that you hadn’t planned on having children, or at least, being Cain’s mate wasn’t part of your plan. Can I ask, how did it change for you? How did you go from not wanting kids, to…?”
