Moon Child (The Year of the Wolf #2) - Serena Akeroyd Page 0,25

hard on yourself.”

She pushed her face into my chest, and both of us ignored Knight’s grumbling, even though I knew the kid was quite happy with being smushed between us. He was pack, after all. We were used to being jumbled together, and if anything, that was when we were at our most comfortable. It was why, even though I could afford a mattress the size of my bedroom, we stuck with a queen-size bed, because there was no greater sense of comfort than ending the night piled in.

Even if things were a little awkward with Knight now, because we didn’t want to squash him, there was no way in hell I was changing our sleeping arrangements.

I pressed a kiss to her forehead, letting my lips trail down to the high arches of her cheekbones so that I could catch her tears. They tasted salty, but more than that, to me, they were bittersweet.

This woman, this wonderful woman, shed tears because she felt like she wasn’t serving our child well enough.

I’d been annoyed when she became pregnant. I could admit that to myself, and to her if she was listening in—

“I knew,” she grumbled, her face turning into my throat.

“Of course you did,” I said dryly. “You know more than you’d like, don’t you?”

“Yes. And I understood it.”

“I wanted you to myself. To ourselves. I was being selfish.”

She nodded. “I told you I understood, and I do. I love him, I can’t imagine life without him, but it would have been nice to have more time with you on our own. We have a lot of responsibility already. A breather would have been quite pleasant.”

“A breather would have been more than that,” I told her gruffly, kissing her again. “But I’m the same. I can’t imagine life without Knight, and now we don’t have to. He’s here, and you’re running yourself ragged trying to be the best you can be. However, you’re being you. You’re doing you, and that’s exactly what he needs. That is the best you.”

“I hate giving him formula,” she rasped. “Why am I this powerful omega, the one who’s going to change everything, whose frickin’ placenta is powerful enough to make the pack fertile, but I can’t feed Knight?”

I had no answer to that question, but it seemed a pretty hard ask. When she tilted her head back to look up at me though, each individual eyelash formed tiny triangles, pricked with clear tears that were like diamonds.

I sighed at the sight of them, at the earnestness in her eyes, and whispered, “You’re too hard on yourself.”

She pushed her face into my chest again, her arms tightening around my waist, until I knew she was comforting herself and Knight through the hold.

I stood there, strong and stalwart, prepared to stand there for a lifetime, prepared to stand there forever if it made her happy.

With the scent of her in my nostrils, the scent of Knight and that strangely satisfying baby smell, the sense of home I had with her in my arms, I knew standing here for a lifetime would be no hardship.

Although I doubted Knight would be grateful to be stuck here when he turned eighteen…

A smirk that she couldn’t see crossed my lips. After all, the boy was demanding, as only an alpha whelp could be.

“I hate it when you call him that,” she grumbled. “Alpha whelp. Makes him sound like some kind of puppy from a breeding farm.”

I snorted. “You have to get used to the terminology. We’ve been out of pack life for your three-month milk moon, but that’s coming to an end shortly. Once it’s over, everyone will call him that. Especially as he’s so strong.”

“It shouldn’t be that weird. Ethan and Austin were telling me about how all kids are getting stronger now.”

“They are, but Knight is stronger still.” I blew out a breath, and even though what I was about to say concerned me, I decided that it would be a matter of borrowing trouble if I worried about it now. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he lasts to his fifth or sixth year before he shifts.”

She gaped at that. “You’re kidding!” Sabina pulled back to give me a full blast of the gawk, but what was I supposed to do—lie to her? Not likely.

“I wish I was. He’s a powerful child. I can feel it in our bond.”

Her eyes softened at that, and I knew why too—she loved that we had a bond. I supposed it made sense