reaction every time she saw Riley in his wolf form. She seemed to think he was a living version of The Toy That Shall Not Be Named and pounced on him without fail. Once, before Mercy and Riley moved down to this cabin, while they had been babysitting, Mercy had come out of their home to find her mate on the grass in wolf form, snoozing in the sun, while Naya did the same curled up on his back, one little hand fisted possessively in his fur.
The image had slayed her, her knees going so weak she’d had to sit down on the steps leading down from their verandah and just watch the two of them as they dozed. Then yesterday, seeing how patient he was with Naya’s antics . . . Mercy blew out a breath.
God, her sexy, quietly stable wolf mate was going to be one hell of a father.
To top it all off, she had a genuine task in putting together the DarkRiver-SnowDancer event. She knew Lucas had assigned her the job to keep her busy and stop her from driving Riley crazy, but though she made growly noises at Lucas and Hawke both when they asked her how it was going, secretly, she was enjoying it.
A sentinel wasn’t meant to sit around. She was meant to do.
At least neither her alpha nor her fellow sentinels tried to shield her from bad news, such as the developing BlackSea situation and the possible threat to Naya. Mercy had helped Jamie and Dezi rejig the communications aspect of DarkRiver’s security protocols when it came to the pack’s cubs, was certain that between the three of them, they’d plugged any possible gaps.
She’d also racked her brain thinking of how either pack could assist the captive Leila Savea, but right now, she had nothing. What she could do was help nurture the ever-growing bond between DarkRiver and SnowDancer. In their blood alliance was a strength that wouldn’t only shield the packs from the bastards who hid in the shadows pulling strings designed to cause as much chaos as possible, it could well lead to the downfall of those same assholes.
Most important to her on a personal level was that the blood bond between the two packs meant her pupcubs would grow up in a cohesive single entity with two independent parts.
“See, babies,” she said, patting her hard belly, “you’re already a force for peace among mankind—or at least among a bunch of stubborn wolves and leopards.”
“You talking to yourself again, Merce?” her brother yelled out from the kitchen where she had him prisoner.
“Shut up and cook, Frenchie!”
Bastien poked his head out the door, the dark, dark red of his hair as pretty as the green eyes that made him such a favorite with the women. Too bad for them that he was head over heels for his sweetheart of a mate. Who was just as loopy over him. Loopy enough to take Mercy on. Since Mercy would’ve accepted no woman who didn’t fight for Bas, she loved Kirby.
Bastien’s sweetheart came with a spine.
“I thought pregnancy was supposed to make you soft and glowy and smooshie.”
“Smooshie?” She threw a wadded-up piece of paper at his handsome head. “Is that even English?”
Throwing up a hand, he caught the paper in midair. “I pick up Kirby after work sometimes, and if she’s still got kids in the kindergarten because the parents have been held up, we hang out. Apparently ‘ooshie’ can be attached to most words.” He pointed a large wooden spoon at her belly, his white T-shirt and black cargo pants partially covered by a sleek black apron. “You should know that since you’ll be hearing words like it very soon.”
Mercy smiled. “Come ’ere.”
Her big, burly brother immediately looked suspicious. “Why?” he asked, not moving from the doorway.
“I’m the size of a tank and slow as a drunk bear. I’m not going to bite you.” Mercy crooked a finger.
Eyebrows drawn together, Bastien came to where she sat in the large armchair Riley had moved to the end of the dining table; papers and a thin organizer were spread out in front of her. When she waved Bas down, his expression darkened even further, but he bent toward her. She put a hand on his muscled shoulder and kissed him on the cheek, his scent so familiar that she was sure she felt the pupcubs squirm in happiness at having their uncle so close.
Bastien rose to his feet, his suspicious expression having transformed into