“Papa says you’re going to spend all day just with me. He says you’re my wolf teacher. Can we have a tea party?”

  “No.” Rome’s firm denial came from where he stood, right by the door. He looked outside like someone had followed her, then closed the door and locked it. “Seren is here to instruct you in wolf things. Not have a tea party.”

  “I don’t see what harm it could have,’ Seren mumbled. Already, she was getting into a disagreement about what she was doing there, but that was Rome’s fault, not hers. Still, she didn’t want Waverly to witness it and be uncomfortable. “It’s good to get to know each other over tea.”

  “I have strawberry,” Waverly said, smiling so big that it caused her eyes to crinkle up.

  “Strawberry tea,” Seren exclaimed. “I don’t think I’ve ever had that before.”

  Rome sighed. “Fine. I’ll make it.” He looked about as joyful as if someone had just suggested he be hung up by his testicles until they tore off his body. What was wrong with him?

  The list would definitely be shorter if it was what wasn’t wrong with him.

  “Seren is here to teach you about shifting. She’ll do that immediately after your tea.”

  Seren cast an anxious glance at Rome. “I don’t know much about teaching,” she admitted. She shrugged off her purse, spotting a coat rack beside the door, wood with pegs that weren’t being used. She hung it there. It had her phone and keys in it. If she had to trust Rome with her body, she could trust him with her bag by the door. It wasn’t like he’d rifle through it. After she’d left his auto repair shop nearly a week ago, she’d had the uncomfortable feeling that he was watching her even when she couldn’t see him, long after she’d driven out of sight.

  He had the means to have done his research on her the way that she hadn’t been able to do it on him. What did he know about her that she had no idea he knew?

  Waverly laughed at that. “I haven’t shifted yet. Is there something wrong with me?”

  Seren took her hand. Waverly wasn’t the least bit shy. Rome said she was going to school in the fall. Had she been at daycare before? Probably. If Rome worked during the day, then where else would she go? She seemed exceptionally well-socialized. She doubted that the man looking after her was responsible in any way for that.

  He stayed by the door, frowning at both of them like a disapproving god, doing nothing to make the tea he’d promised. It kind of made her want to kick him in the nuts, then command that he enjoy it. She’d follow it up with a smart question as to whether pain ruined his fucking panties.

  Not the time or the place. Waverly had no idea about any of that. None of that was her fault and it certainly wasn’t her fault that she had such an asshole as a guardian. Seren had to separate that out. But it was damn hard not to.

  She’d thought about it every minute of the day for the past week.

  The relief of having endured one hour, one down out of many, never came.

  She hadn’t let it affect her work, but she hadn’t been able to lose herself in her art like she usually did. Rome was a curse who was perpetually on her mind.

  “No, sweetheart,” she said softly, forcing herself to be in the moment. Waverly needed someone, and at the moment, that someone was her. This little girl deserved every bit of her attention. “No, there’s nothing wrong with you. Some shifters shift young, and some don’t shift until later. It’s kind of an all over the place thing with no set timeline. There’s definitely nothing wrong with you.”

  Waverly studied her, but there was no challenge in it. “Want to see my room?”

  “Yes.” Seren laughed at the little kid’s invitation. “I would love to see it.”

  She didn’t turn and look back at Rome, but she felt his eyes burning into her back. Whatever. She wasn’t going to ask his permission. He was the one who mandated that she be here. He knew she wasn’t qualified. He probably knew she was a wolf raised in the city by parents who belonged to no pack. If that didn’t make her less than qualified to teach about what it meant to be a shifter, then what did?

  All she could tell Waverly was what it meant to be a shifter in society, and maybe, considering that she lived in a small city and was surrounded by humans, that was the most important thing at the moment.

  Waverly’s room was a soft powder pink. Seren couldn’t imagine Rome having painted it, just like she couldn’t see him picking out the frilly curtains at the windows or the bright pink bedding on both the top and bottom bunk. The room was spotless, everything put away on shelves or in plastic containers. In that, she saw Rome’s dictator nature.

  Waverly walked to the bottom bunk, bent in, and got out a huge white cat stuffy. The long hair immediately stood on end and clung to her. “This is Beatrix. She’s my favorite.”

  “She’s beautiful.” Seren stroked the cat’s fur. It had creepy black button eyes, but Waverly didn’t notice. She kissed its face and flopped down on the white carpet.

  “Papa isn’t my real dad.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. I’m adopted. He knew my mom and she wanted him to take care of me. He’s my papa now. I didn’t know my real dad. My grandma said that he didn’t know how to be a dad, but my mom really wanted to be a mom and that was all that mattered.”

  “Yes.” Seren sat down beside Waverly, resisting the urge to pull her into her arms and hug her so, so hard for the rest of her life. She was five and she’d already seen tragedy and known heartbreak. Kids were so resilient, but it made Seren’s heart melt into a pile of mush.

  “I don’t know if my papa wanted to be a dad either, but I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

  “That’s not true. He cares for you a lot.” For Waverly, Seren would make up any lies about Rome. But was that a lie? He was undoubtedly a cruel, complicated man, but that was when it came to the world. Waverly clearly wasn’t just anyone and from the girlie pink bedroom, to getting her to teach the little girl all about being a female wolf, he obviously doted on the child. “He thinks of you as his. He told me that. There was zero mistake about it. He would do anything for you, and he loves you very much. I know that for a fact.”

  Waverly shot her a skeptical look like only a five-year-old could.

  “It’s true. Love makes people strict. Love makes people want to do what’s best for the people they care about. They have to protect them.”

  It didn’t even feel like a new low to defend an asshat scumbag who was right now basically controlling her whole freaking life in exchange for cash.

  Seren wiggled her eyebrows. “I can’t show you how to shift in here, but maybe one day we can find a nice quiet place and Rome and I can both show you how shifting works.”

  Waverly brightened. “I’ve never seen a wolf shift. Or anyone. Not even my mom. Does it hurt very much?”

  “A little, the first few times, but you get used to it. It’s like stubbing your toe. It hurts for a second, but then the pain goes away. When you shift, your bones and all the organs in your body have to change and realign to make the wolf.”

  “Is it like magic?”

  “I think it’s very much like magic.”

  “Papa says we have to keep it a secret. Always. He’s been trying to teach me how to breathe and calm myself. He says that we can’t just let the wolf out or everyone will be afraid.”

  “People do fear what they don’t know. My parents explained it to me that there is the world people think they know, and the world as it really is. If they find out that what they think they know has been wrong all along, that leads to fear, and fear causes people to panic, and sometimes panic makes for bad decisions.”

  “Would someone hurt me?”

  Damn it, that was exactly what she didn’t want Waverly to worry about. “No, honey. Rome would always protect you. If there’s ever a time you have to shift and it can’t be helped, I was taught to find as quiet of a place as possible. People are scared of wolves, and it would be confusing to see one, but not as wild as witnessing someone actually shift. The wolf is smart. She will always take care of you and protect you too. If there isn’t a situation where you can find privacy and you can’t stop the shift, then there’s still room for reasonable doubt if you run. Whoever saw it happen, unless they were lucky enough to record it, will probably doubt that it happened at all. In most people’s minds, things like that can’t happen.” She took Waverly’s hands in hers and scooted on the carpet to face her. “But that’s why I’m here. My parents taught me not to fear the wolf, but to be in harmony with her and the other way around. We are two spirits living in one body and we have to share. If one of us is unhappy, the other won’t be happy. Life is about balance in so many ways. Do you know what that means?”

  “Being in the middle?” She held up her hands like a scale.

  “Yes! That’s completely right.” Waverly was a smart kid. Not necessarily precocious. Intelligence was sometimes a forced thing when kids had to grow up fast.

  How was Rome possibly in balance with his wolf? Maybe his wolf was a blackhearted bastard as well. Even so, Seren couldn’t muster up the force of hate that she should have. Instead, her heart felt sore. It wasn’t just kids who had to grow up fast. Sometimes it happened to adults. Age wasn’t a limiting factor on pain. Years didn’t necessarily equip people to deal with tragedy.

  Something terrible happened to Rome. She sensed it. Her wolf shifted inside her uncomfortably, sensing it too. She didn’t fear him or want to run. Weirdly enough, she burned with the desire to protect him from a disaster that had already happened. Protection as a shifter was no small thing. Her wolf was clearly as confused as she was.

  “You don’t have to fear shifting. We’ll help get you ready. By the time it happens, you’ll know exactly what to expect. You won’t have to worry about the wolf being unpredictable or not giving back your body or losing yourself. That will never happen. Not when you respect and love your wolf.”

  Did Rome respect and love himself?

  How could he do that for anyone else if he couldn’t do it for himself? Of all the things he was, he didn’t seem to be self-absorbed. He might be sadistic and lacking in empathy, but he wasn’t a narcissist.

  “I thought you said you were bad at teaching.” Waverly held up her hand for a high five. “You seem pretty good.”

  Seren smacked the little girl’s palm. “I’m just telling you what my parents told me.”

  “They were good teachers, then.”

  Her throat closed up. “Yeah. They were.” Her parents were the best. It was only recently, since her divorce, that she’d felt the stinging burn of their disappointment. “They still are.” That had to be true. Anything else just hurt too much to consider. She was still their daughter. She knew that.

  “When we’re not always learning about shifting, can we play a game?” Waverly shifted tracks, studying her hopefully.

  “I think so. What do you like best?”

  “Poker.”

  “Oh. Goodness. Where did you learn that?”

  “Papa taught me. But I also like chess.”

  Seren laughed. “I think, in that case, you might have to be the teacher.”

  Waverly jumped up and raced to her closet. It had a sliding door, and when she threw it open, Seren saw her clothes were hung neatly, ordered by color. The shelves to the one side had shoes on the top, then a row of books in the next one, and on the bottom, a small stack of board games. She tugged at the box with the plastic chess set until it popped out.

  “I can do that! I’m a good teacher! I showed the kids at daycare. They aren’t very good, though. Not as good as me.”

  “I won’t be nearly as good as you, I can promise you that.”

  She shrugged. “That’s okay. You’ll try hard, I know.”

  Seren grinned at Waverly’s faith in her. They’d get along just fine. Waverly wasn’t only eager to learn, she was enthusiastic about sharing her own knowledge. She’d be an easygoing, kind, patient instructor.

  Waverly started to set up the chessboard, but paused. Her smile turned into a huge grin. “Tea!”

  Seren whipped her head around and caught Rome standing in the doorway with a child’s tea set. He’d prepared three pink cups and included the pink teapot with flowers. There even appeared to be a sugar bowl and creamer, and a plate with cookies.

  Three cups.

  Was he going to join them?

  For as long as she lived, Seren was certain she wouldn’t be able to erase the image of him standing there holding a pink tea tray, dressed entirely in black and scowling as per usual. It seemed like an advertisement, or a token movie made just for little girls.

  Waverly clapped her hands. “Yay! I was going to teach Seren how to play chess. Maybe you should explain. You’re better at it.”

  Rome was going to refuse. That was obvious.

  He didn’t. He set the tea tray down right on the carpet and sat behind it, folding his legs in. “Tea first, milady, and then we expand our mental states, yes?”

  His fake posh accent sent Waverly into a fit of giggles and just about gave Seren a heart attack.

  She’d anticipated that Monday nights would give her the most trouble. They’d be dark and dangerous. She had no defense against this new sneak attack. Fatherhood and love in action.

  Sundays were also going to be a day she had to guard herself against.

  She might get attached to Waverly, and that was okay, but she could never take things any further than that. Crushing on a hard, brutal, unyielding, nightmare of a man was out of the question.

  Chapter 6

  Rome

  Dumb things happened sometimes. For instance, a ninety-year-old woman who decided to change lanes going forty miles an hour without looking. Right into him.

  Even through the hazy state of shock, the shivers that racked his body as the bike lay on top of him, impossibly heavy, his body numb and weak, too weak to move it off and get up, he wondered how on earth she hadn’t heard the loud rumble of his motorcycle. The growl was enough to shake the asphalt under him whenever he came to a stop.

  Right. Because she was ninety.

  And currently standing over him with bright seafoam green pants hiked up into a crisp white blouse with lace at the collar. She was the total granny package down to her wild and fuzzy white hair, thick eyeglasses, and the dentures she chomped back and forth in her mouth.

  “Oh lord. Goodness me. Oh shoot. Dang. What can I do? Are you dead, son? That bike looks awful heavy. There’s so much blood. Your leg doesn’t look good. It’s… oh sweet lord, it’s twisted up under there.”

  He was fighting to stay conscious. He wasn’t one of those people who couldn’t feel pain. He just had a high tolerance for it. He didn’t hate it. Pain could be useful. Right now, he felt nothing. Not because—thank the fucking stars—he’d been paralyzed when the bike went skidding out from under him, dragging him for what seemed like miles before it came to a twisted stop, plastering half his skin and blood on the road in the process.

  The state of shock was the only thing that was going to save him from his wolf popping out right here to try and protect him. He still had enough energy for the shift, but it was channeled into his natural human reaction. He was shaking hard enough, he knew what it was.

  “I’m calling an ambulance,” the little old lady wailed. She was so distressed, it was hard for him to be mad at her. She was also adorably wrinkled.

  That was probably the shock speaking. Why the hell couldn’t he feel his leg? He tried to look down and could see just enough as he raised his head, still in his helmet, that the woman was right. It didn’t look good, and it did appear to be twisted under the heavy frame.

  “No ambulance,” he choked. “No.”

  The last thing he heard before everything grayed out and faded to black was that high-pitched little old lady accent that seemed to come from all directions and very far away at the same time.

  He had to stay conscious. He had to stay awake. If anyone got a hold of him, they could do anything to him, give him anything. If he wasn’t in full control of himself, there was no telling what his wolf would do. Giving some doctor or first responder the scare of their lives might be the least of his worries.

  He tried to open his eyes, but there was nothing. Just heaviness, a low-grade burn, and then black.

  ***

  Rome opened one heavy, grainy lid. As soon as his eye focused, he saw white and he knew he was in a hospital—at least it looked like a hospital, and not some fucking secret government laboratory. There was a list of things that shifters feared, and doctors were right the hell up there. The risk of discovery was greatest when given medications, when in pain, when being kept in a confined space. It was all a recipe for a complete and total loss of control over the wolf. Unless a person was too hurt to summon the energy to shift, the wolf was there, ready to take over, ready to shield and endure and protect.

  His mouth was so dry. He still couldn’t feel much pain, and when he forced his eyes to focus on the back of his hand, he realized why.

  There was an IV in there. It might just be giving saline, but at one time, they’d pumped something into him. Morphine? His head was definitely all wrong. Yeah, it was probably morphine. He had no idea how long he could last. He needed to get out of here before the hospital staff was dealing with an injured, frightened, angry wolf.

  There were several machines around him, all beeping. He started detaching himself from the wires and clips and then pulled out the IV. He didn’t feel the pinch, so whatever they had him on had to be strong. It was a miracle he was even coherent enough to do that much.

  He swung back the sheets and grimaced when he saw his legs. He was still in his clothing, but one pantleg had been cut away. The leg was bandaged, probably as a way to keep things clean and to staunch the bleeding until something else was done. Surgery? Setting it? Was it broken? How badly was it crushed?

  He wanted to look for himself, but was afraid that alone could tear the wolf out of his skin. He was already on the edge, his teeth grinding together with every movement he made. The bandage could stay. It would hide the injury from him, but it might also make it appear that he was free to go.

 

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