Choi scrubbed a hand over his face. “My pack is scared of him.”

That confirmed my earlier supposition, so I advised, “Then maybe they should meet with him, and see they’re vilifying a child.”

He twisted away from me, stunned me by showing me his back as he stared out over the terrace and onto the forest in the distance, remarking, “I can feel your totem’s power all the way from over here.”

“Yes. It’s more powerful than ever since Sabina became the omega.”

“Why?”

“We nourish it.”

He cut me a look that told me I didn’t have to spell out how. “The old tales are true?”

I shrugged. “Yes.” Not that we’d been doing much nourishing since Knight’s birth.

Damn, I was looking forward to Sabina’s milk moon being over.

Choi scraped a hand over his jaw. “Rainford alphas let the path to the totems become overgrown. Trees and brush even entered the circle—”

That had my eyebrows soaring. “The circle has been sullied?”

“Yeah.” He blew out a breath. “I’ve no idea how to save it.”

“You need an omega,” I told him flatly. “I never spoke to Sabina about nourishing the circle, she just knew to do it.”

“Lara might not be an omega. Why would she be? I’m no alpha.”

“Your pack says otherwise,” I told him calmly. “Were you granted a mate at your covenant?”

His eyes shifted away from mine. “No. I didn’t have one. The totem circle was sullied, remember?”

I pursed my lips. “Well, I had a covenant and I wasn’t granted a mate so I know how that goes.”

“Lara is more of a blessing than she even knows,” he agreed softly. “I truly come here with no harm in mind. I just wish to speak with her. Make sure she is aware of who I am and what I am to her. In words that come from my lips,” he tacked on. “Not your mate’s.”

Stepping out from the doorway, I headed for the veranda railing and murmured, “I understand, so long as you understand my position on Daniel.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Another alpha might tear out your heart for trying to put roadblocks between him and his mate.”

“We’ve already ascertained you’re not a regular alpha,” I murmured. “And I mean no offense when I say that. To your pack, you lead. But you’re definitely unusual.”

“Unusual—a word I’ve been hearing all my life.”

“I know how that goes too,” I muttered gruffly.

“Right,” was his flat answer. Then, when he cut me a look, his brow puckered and he muttered, “They said you shifted when you were eight. Is that true?”

“Yes.”

He cleared his throat, turned back to look at the forest, and murmured, “Then maybe you do know what it means.”

Eleven

Lara

“Be patient. He’s telling your body what he needs.”

Sabina’s entire face puckered at that as Knight tugged on her nipple like she was a jug of OJ he’d drunk dry. “He’s going to start bawling soon when he doesn’t get it.”

“He’s agitating the milk ducts,” I informed her calmly. “How do they know to carry on producing milk if he isn’t sucking on them? Won’t they come to a halt if his demand decreases? Only logical, isn’t it?”

She bit her lip. “I guess. I just don’t like it when he’s hungry.”

There was a lifetime of psychosis in that statement, but who was I to judge? I was weird about food too, thanks to our childhood. We’d often gone hungry when we were younger.

Though the memories were best left in the past, I asked, “Do you dream of the chest?”

“Dream?” She scowled at me. “Nightmares more like. Not often. Not anymore. The accident stopped them.”

She’d already told me about what Cyrilo had done, and to be honest, it came as no surprise. Our brother wasn’t a good man. He was weak too. Always doing father’s bidding. I was just surprised about the lack of crowing father had done in the face of her death.

It was a horrible thing to say, but I thanked Kali Sara every night for giving him Alzheimer’s. When a man couldn’t remember he had a daughter, that was the best thing for that daughter, when her father was Draga Krasowski.

Shocking, I knew. Shameful to admit, but true nonetheless. Despite all the things he’d done to us, I’d never wished ill on him. Sometimes, I recognized, Kali Sara offered us things we didn’t even ask for…

“I dream of it often.”

She cast me a look, her hand unconsciously moving to Knight’s head, where she cupped his small skull as if trying to protect him from my words. “If you didn’t, I’d say that was stranger. We spent too much time in that damn box.” Her mouth tightened into a thin line. “The bastard was evil for what he did to us.”

I couldn’t argue with that, so I didn’t bother, merely sank back into an uncomfortable armchair and watched her as she fed Knight on an equally uncomfortable sofa.

Unable to stop myself, I pointed out, “This place isn’t somewhere I’d have imagined you living.”

“You’re shrewd as ever. It’s how it was before I became omega. I’ve just never bothered with it. There’s been too much to do.”

“Mothers nest in the final phase of pregnancy.”

“I nested plenty in our bedroom,” she disregarded. “I don’t think of the lower levels of the house as ours anyway. Not with how the pack comes to us at all hours.”

“That must grow wearisome.”

“Actually, it doesn’t.” When she moved her hand away from Knight’s head, I knew I’d calmed her enough to make her forget my earlier words. I had no desire to hurt her. No desire to rake up a past that was far darker than I would have wanted for her.

She hadn’t had an easy life.

Not like I’d imagined.

When I was little, after she left, I’d felt abandoned. I’d felt sure she’d go to a neighborhood, like one of those subdivisions you saw on the TV. All cookie-cutter houses with garages that opened onto neat driveways. Not trailers that were grubby on the outside and spotlessly clean on the inside.

I’d seen her morphing into a gadji, and I could admit now that I’d been jealous. Not just hurt that she’d left us, but envious over how her life had changed. I’d wanted to wake up in a bedroom that looked onto another house, to go downstairs and enter a kitchen with one of those breakfast counters, where I’d sit and grumble about having to get up early for school, before I’d eat, then head out to catch a bus.

Normalcy.

Nothing about our childhood had been that.

Then, she’d died. And my hopes for her had faded away.

The reminder had me asking about her new normal, which was pretty damn abnormal to me. “Why doesn’t it get tedious? Having strangers walk around your home all the time? Coming to you and Eli at all hours of the day?” I badgered.

Her frown was aimed at me—not the question. Me. “No, Lara. Their problems are my problems. I can feel them, whether they come to me or not. So, when they do, it’s always a relief. Plus, it’s actually rare for them to come outside of polite hours.” She shrugged. “They’re considerate. And they appreciate us because we rule in a completely different way than Eli’s parents.