railing. Dmitri had said he couldn’t jump to the city streets because he’d end up flattened like a pancake, but this jump wasn’t far and the wind, while brisk, wouldn’t push him right to the edge. Muscles bunching a split second after his eye fell on the other balcony, he jumped.
Cold air rushed past his face, pasting his T-shirt to his body and stinging his eyes, and then his bare feet hit the hard surface of the balcony. Absorbing the impact through his entire body, having purposefully ended up in a feline crouch, he found the wind had pushed him farther than he’d expected—another couple of inches and he’d have hit the top of the railing, would’ve had to scrabble for purchase to keep from tumbling out into open air.
He was grinning at the close call when he became aware of someone rushing out onto the balcony. He didn’t need to look behind him to know who it was; Honor’s scent was as familiar to him as his own. Rising to his full height as he turned, he saw that her cheeks were pale beneath her gold-kissed skin, her green eyes huge.
“Naasir!” She ran across to him, frantically running her hands over his shoulders and down his arms. “Did you hurt yourself?”
Naasir suddenly realized he might be in trouble. “No,” he reassured her. “It was only a short jump.”
“A short jump?” Honor pressed one hand over her heart, her other hand gripping tight at his upper arm, as if she was afraid he’d fall off the balcony. “You scared me half to death!”
Moving slowly so as not to scare her any more, he wrapped her in his arms and nuzzled his cheek against her hair. “Don’t tell Dmitri,” he whispered.
“You are a person.” The deadly vampire who was Honor’s mate had said that to Naasir when he was only a feral child. “You are Naasir. I’ll lose a piece of me if you die and it’s a piece I’ll never get back.”
Until that instant forever seared into his memory, Naasir hadn’t actually understood that anyone considered him a real person, a person who would be missed if he was gone, and who had the right to other people’s love, affection, and care. That day, in Dmitri’s dark eyes, he’d seen pain at the idea of a world without Naasir, as well as raw anger at the fact Naasir had once again endangered himself, and it had forever changed the boy he’d been.
In many ways, that moment marked his true birth. The birth of Naasir, the person.
Even today, though he was full-grown, Naasir didn’t like making Dmitri scared for him, or angry with him—and he felt the same way about Honor. She was Dmitri’s mate and part of Naasir’s family now. She treated him as if he were hers to care for, to spoil, and to touch as family touched. That should’ve been strange, but it wasn’t. He had no trouble following Honor’s orders, no matter that he was the far more dangerous predator.
Maybe because she belonged to Dmitri . . . and maybe because she made him feel safe and protected. It made no sense, but when he was with Honor, her soft scent in his every breath, he felt like he thought a cub must feel next to the comforting warmth of its mother. She looked after him and she didn’t do it in a way that made his hackles rise.
Laughing a little raggedly now, she ran her hands down his back. “I won’t tell on you,” she promised, “but you can’t go around doing things like that.” She leaned back so she could hold his eyes with the jeweled brightness of her own. “What would I do if you hurt yourself?”
He hung his head, looking at her through his lashes. Like the choppily cut hair that slid around his face, they were a metallic, inhuman silver that marked him as different. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I forget to think like a human.”
Shaking her head, Honor cupped his face in her hands. “You’re perfect exactly as you are,” she whispered with so much love that he felt as if he was being hugged. “I just don’t want you hurt.”
He smiled at the last, knowing he was forgiven for having scared her. Lifting her up in his arms and off her feet, he squeezed her tight. She laughed, silhouetted against a cloudless sky of chrome blue, and, when he put her back down, said, “Be on time for dinner. I asked