Ron gives me an odd look, his eyebrows twisting and lips pursing as he continues to stare. Then he says, "Your phone, right?"
All the hair on my skin tries to jump right off. "You know?"
"Kind of hard not to notice after living with Owen."
My eyes guiltily dart to my phone. "I was just... texting a friend." Somehow, the way he’s being so nonspecific makes me certain he doesn’t quite know, even though he obviously... well, knows. Sort of.
But Lyre made it clear I’m not supposed to be broadcasting the existence of the App to people, so it’s time to bring my (less than) stellar acting into play. At least it can’t be worse than any Lycan’s.
"I know," he says, flicking a glance in Rudolph’s direction. "Since I’m not going out today, I’ll watch the kids for you."
Wow. My child is now going to cover for me and hide my secrets.
I should probably start a jar for mom fails. A quarter for every time I screw it up.
I sigh, watching Bun flail in Ron’s arms, resembling some sort of slithery serpent who’s downed six Red Bulls and smells like maple syrup and cheese. Her little arms stretch toward me, fingers grabbing at air as she arches her back and twists into some sort of demonic mode of rabid toddler.
"Bun, honey, you need to sit with Ron to finish breakfast." I point to her half-eaten plate. "Do you want more pancakes?"
She makes a half-whine, half-growl, and wolfish-seeming ears pop out of her head as she glowers.
Her older brother shoves her into a high chair, buckling her in with the kind of record-breaking speed I couldn’t imitate with a hundred years of practice, then spears a pancake with a plastic fork.
The growl stops, but Bun’s huge brown eyes lock onto my face as she chomps onto a bite of syrup-soaked pancake. Every inch of her radiates betrayal, and I bet if it wasn’t hidden by her sitting in a chair, she’d probably half a little wolf tail poofed out behind her in outrage.
"Bun, eat properly," her brother chides.
Grunt.
"Do you want some chocolate later?"
The grunting disappears as her suspicious eyes stare at the teenager, her chubby fingers flexing and ears swiveling.
"If you want chocolate, you have to be a good girl."
Another grunt, but this time her eyes sparkle.
I sigh in relief. Bribery is such a great tool.
My phone buzzes again with another missed message from Caeriel. The moment I unlock the screen, Super Nanny slides a steaming mug of coffee in front of me.
"You look like you need this," he says, oozing friendliness from every pore.
My heart’s doing the freaking cha-cha slide, but I manage a hollow laugh. "Thanks. Caffeine is life, you know."
"So I hear," he says brightly. "Doesn’t really affect us the same way, but a lot of us like the taste."
I really wish I had some video surveillance of whatever orders Caine gave these men.
The coffee smells amazing, but my stomach’s churning a little too much to appreciate it. Besides, there isn’t nearly enough sugar. Or creamer. Or anything particularly flavored to hide the taste of coffee.
I take a sip anyway, needing something to do with my hands besides fidget, and immediately want to spit it back into the cup.
But I don’t.
Instead, I give a too-casual cough and start plotting how I’m going to somehow hide the existence of the App and my missions with Caine assigning Lycans to my every move.
"So," I begin, hoping I sound natural, "I think I’m going to take a little walk. Stretch my legs. You know, start my morning right."
Why do I sound like some sort of horrible infomercial on TV?
More importantly, Super Nanny R-something is already frowning. "Not sure that’s a good idea. Dylan’s still out looking for the animals."
Translation: No one’s available to keep their eyeballs on your every move.
Which is exactly the point, damn it, but I can’t tell him that.
So I come up with the first lie I can think of. "It’s fine. I’m meeting up with Andrew." It’s brilliant, as long as he doesn’t stop by and ruin my story. None of the Lycans can pack-link with him. "I won’t be alone, so it’ll be okay."
Super Nanny hesitates, his frown deepening.
Ron, without looking up from feeding Bun, says, "Your job is to protect the children, isn’t it? That’s what the High Alpha said."
What a good kid. I throw him a few mental thumbs up.
My Lycan babysitter looks at me, then Bun, then back to me, clearly torn. "Then I should let the High Alpha know—"
"No!" I blurt, then dial it back as fast as I can. "I mean, don’t tell Caine. I’m actually, um, preparing a surprise. You know. For tonight."
Blush, dammit. Blush! But... blushing on demand is way beyond my acting skills.
So I think about Caine, his long fingers, and—
Oh, there we go.
My cheeks flame like crazy, and I even squirm a little with the rush of feelings inappropriate for my current time and place.
What’s-his-face’s eyebrows draw together into a single furry caterpillar across his brow, and I hope it’s a sign of him thinking and not tattling on me to his king.
A knock at the door saves me from further explanation, though it’s probably just going to bring more problems.
"It’s Andrew," Ron says without batting an eyelash.
Or not. Damn it. There goes my brilliant lie.
I tilt my head at Ron, who’s been shoving pancakes into a now-compliant Bun thanks to the promise of chocolate. "How do you know?"
He looks a little exasperated as he looks at me, then taps his nose.
Right. Smell. He’s a shifter, too. Stupid question, Grace. For some reason, I just keep thinking of these kids as kids, not full-on shifters in their own right. Which seems silly when Bun’s literally sporting bunny ears and eating pancakes, I guess.
Wait, bunny ears...?
My eyes zero in on her ears; they were wolf ears just a bit ago. Seems like she’s in a better mood. My guilt eases somewhat, thanks once again to the oldest of the bunch.
I already miss the days where I could just focus on the children all day instead of getting the run-around from weird apps. Then again, those days involved bizarre arcana storms and acquiring strange pets, so... there are downfalls there, too.
But not as bad as being back in this territory.
Randy opens the door with a polite smile, miles warmer than Dylan’s hostile greeting yesterday. Andrew steps inside, looking tired but even more bruised than yesterday.
My fingers twitch on my phone, suspicion rising. Andrew’s never wandered around with randomly acquired injuries, not with his position as the future Alpha’s beta. And somehow I doubt the Lycans are beating him out of nowhere.
Which means this is definitely because of me.
And, knowing Andrew, he’s probably not going to explain a single bit of it without being harassed into answers.
First, though—protect my lies with my life. Time to level up my acting skills and hope I have some level of telepathy with the man.
"You’re so early! Are you ready for our plans?" I over-emphasize the last word, trying to telegraph: Play along, please play along, I’m begging you.
Andrew pauses a beat, but follows through like a fucking champion. "Uh—yeah. Sorry. Did you want me to wait until later?"