CAINE
I hadn’t intended on calling my subordinates into Grace’s camper, but they showed up while I was still here.
As did several nosey Blue Mountain bastards. Not a single whisper carries on the air, probably because their gossip was all done through their pack link as their bastard eyes lingered on my mate.
So I brought my loyal Lycans inside, intending to warn them about keeping Grace safe at all costs.
After all, while Grace insists on keeping our relationship some strange sort of secret, it’s been obvious from the start it will only be a superficial denial. My scent is all over her, these children, and this camper.
But if my mate wants to pretend she has nothing to do with me, I’ll indulge. For a little while, anyway.
So I did as she asked and publicly announced no relationship between us, but for some reason, the woman’s angrier than ever.
And claiming the children to keep them safe from any Blue Mountain bullying only seems to make it worse.
My eyebrows draw together in a faint frown as even Sara tries to deny a connection, only to ease somewhat when she declares, "Daddy will work."
See? Even the children understand the benefit of being adopted into my pack and being under my protection. They’re smart kids, so it’s to be expected.
Grace’s face twists through a parade of emotions. Her left eye keeps twitching, but I’m more focused on the dark circles under her eyes.
She needs rest.
I kept her up too late.
And while it was enjoyable, she’s still recuperating.
"Grace," I say, keeping my voice calm in the face of her somewhat labile emotional state, "you should take a nap with Bun. You didn’t sleep well."
The transformation is spectacular. Her face flushes a brighter crimson than before, as if I just suggested we recreate last night’s bathroom encounter in front of my men. Then all color drains from her cheeks, leaving her pale as moonlight. Finally, her features lock into place, her jaw rigid enough to crack her teeth.
"I’m fine, thank you, Sir." She practically spits the honorific, turning it into something profane.
Dylan shifts his weight, eyebrows drawing together as he exchanges a look with Reggie.
Neither of them are impressed with her attitude. I’ll have to pull them aside later. They won’t accept her easily, but they will accept her.
But Randy, younger and a little more open-minded, studies Grace with a different understanding. His gaze slides from her to the children, then back again. Despite his young age, he has a mate and children of his own.
He gives a subtle nod in my direction.
I keep my expression neutral while I reach through our pack link to touch the minds of my men. Make sure no one bothers them, I command, letting my authority ripple through the connection. No one enters this place, and no one speaks to her or the children without my express permission.
Reggie frowns, his facial scars becoming more hideous with the movement. Sara flinches.
Perhaps I should keep the older Lycans away from here. Then again, the kids will need to toughen up. Reggie and Dylan aren’t the only Lycans with scars in our pack.
I give a slight nod as I think it over. Yes. Better to get them used to it now.
Reggie and Dylan may look down on humans, but they’re loyal and wouldn’t do anything to harm children I’ve declared as mine. More importantly, they’re capable of fighting off the entire pack if it comes down to it.
Grace’s mouth stretches into a thin smile as she stares at me, and a vague sense of foreboding traipses down my spine.
She’s unhappy.
And yet I’ve done everything she’s asked of me.
I frown.
"You seem busy," she says, voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "We don’t want to keep you here."
My eyebrows lift a fraction of an inch. Her sudden shift from fury to docility makes my instincts prickle with suspicion.
Fenris snorts, the first sound he’s made since I invited the Lycans inside.
What is it? I ask in his direction, a little surprised by his lack of nonsensical commentary.
Don’t even think about it. I’m not helping you this time. Dig your own grave and leave me out of it.
Jer clears his throat. "Uh, Da—um. Fath—no. Daddy...?" He cringes visibly and scratches at his head, finally settling on, "Dad?"
Fenris’s unhelpful mood is immediately pushed to the side as I respond, "Hmm?" with a faint smile.
"If you’re going to be our dad, then is Owen our dad too?"
My smile freezes.
My subordinates do, too.
Grace closes her eyes and pinches at the bridge of her nose with a long sigh. "You don’t have to call him Dad, Jer."
My frown returns, and Sara flinches.
I can hear her as she frantically whispers in her little brother’s ear, "Don’t listen to her. Call him Dad, or he might eat us."
The panic in her words only undermines my claim further, and three pairs of Lycan eyes turn back toward me with various degrees of intensity.
"Dad," Ron says carelessly, not looking up from his book, "You haven’t mentioned who Mom is."
My eyes—and three other pairs—immediately land on Grace, who opens hers slowly and jumps a little to see us staring at her.
She holds up her hands immediately. "It isn’t me."
For the first time since acknowledging Grace as my mate, irritation stirs deep inside. "Are you trying to abandon our children?"
Randy is the first of the Lycans to break protocol, stepping away from me to get a little closer to Grace. His body’s completely turned toward her as he shows me his back, and I bare my teeth in his direction.
"Ma’am," he says politely, and she gives him a wary look.
"Yes?"
"How old are you...?"
"Randy," I snap in irritation, even as Reggie and Dylan slowly nod their heads.
Reggie steps between us, taking on the brunt of my glower as he says, "High Alpha, this is strange for all of us. You disappear for days with the Beta, and return with this human git—"
My eyes narrow.
He pauses.
"—human girl."
I incline my head arrogantly. "And?"
"Anyone with eyes can tell she isn’t their mother."
Side-stepping the question, I respond with a simple, "I already said, these children are mine."
I would call her their mother, but Grace seems hell-bent on denying our relationship for now.
Dylan steps in front of Reggie with a dark frown. "What he means to say is, High Alpha, are these your Luna’s children?"
Fenris growls in my head, and I can sense his desire to manifest.
Don’t.
Grace immediately says, "I’m not his Luna," though she does shoot me a somewhat apologetic look as she does so.
But my brows pull together. Dylan and Reggie would never presume to call a human their Luna.
They aren’t speaking of Grace.
"No."