Nash
I FOLLOW Denali's beat up hatchback through town. She's hiding something. Normally I wouldn't stalk a female, but my lion insists. She's my mate. Even if I'm in no shape to take care of her.
She's done well for herself. From the information Sam forwarded, she has her own small business running errands and taking care of homebound elderly. She pays most everything in cash. Still living mostly under the radar.
Her old car runs a yellow light and I pull through a gas station parking lot to keep her in my sights. She wasn't kidding about being late. Either that she drives like a maniac. No matter. I catch up with her easily, almost pulling flush with her car. She doesn't notice me following her. A little frown of concentration mars her forehead.
My lion admires her. He hasn't been this happy in... ever. My animal was born in blood, triggered in battle. I've never known him to be anything but a stone-cold killer.
Except with Denali. Drumming my hands on the steering wheel, I realize I'm grinning.
She let me into her bed, even though she wasn't entirely happy to see me. But afterward, she certainly was in a hurry to get me out of her life. That just shows she's smart. No matter. Even if I should, I'm not about to let her go.
She stops briefly at a grocery store, coming out with two bags before continuing on. She must have more errands because she doesn't head home, but back to the main boulevard until she turns into the parking lot of a low building with a fenced playground.
What is she doing at a preschool?
Denali disappears into the building. A minute later, she exits, holding the hand of a little boy.
My entire body turns to ice.
A cub.
She has a cub. But... who's the father? She wasn't pregnant when she met me, and I mate-marked her. Who would dare touch her after that? A human? As I blink away the red haze, there's a crunching sound. I broke the steering wheel. I tear open the car door, my legs eating up sidewalk. Mine, my lion growls. Mine.
Denali looks up. Shock and fear cross her face, followed by anger. The little boy has his head down, oblivious. She steps in front of him.
"Stay back, Nash." Her chest rises and falls. She's gearing up to fight me. Momma lioness prepared to protect her cub.
Does she think I'll hurt him?
Well yeah, I did storm out of the car mad as fuck. She's right to fear me. Hell, even I fear my lion most days.
The spice of her scent hits me and I stop in my tracks. The little boy peers around her. I suck in a breath.
His face and hair are pure Denali, only a few shades lighter. But the boy's eyes are green, like mine.
DENALI
NO, no, no.
"Nash," I warn. "Back off."
He does, stepping off the sidewalk. I hurry Nolan past him and get my son into his car seat.
"Here, baby." I hand him a juice box and his usual snack. Just keep calm. Stay normal. Even though all my plans have gone to hell.
"Who's that, momma?"
I glance back. Nash is rooted, staring right at Nolan. His son.
"He's a... friend."
The boy sniffs, scents the air. "He's like me. He's a lion."
"Yeah, baby. But we don't talk about our animals in public, remember?" I shut the car door, and head to face Nash.
Damn, this is so fucked up.
"What the hell?" Nash chokes out.
"Quiet," I hiss, even though he's only said what I'm thinking.
"Who is that?"
"My kid." I lift my chin and hold my ground.
"How old is he?"
I close my eyes, willing this moment away. I've imagined it a hundred, a thousand times. I don't know whether I wanted it to happen, or just knew it would.
"Denali, how old?"
"Three," I whisper. "He's three." I'm almost dizzy, helpless to stop this moment. For the past three years, my whole life has been centered around protecting this one vulnerability: my sweet boy, currently eating his goldfish and drinking his juice in his car seat.
"He's mine." He starts to push past me, but I block his path.
"Stay back," I warn.
He stops, craning his head to look around me. "You don't want me near him." It's a statement, not a question and it hits me like a two by four across the ribs.
He's right, I don't.
And yet, haven't I wished a thousand times that Nolan had his daddy in his life? Haven't I imagined what a good father Nash would be?
But that was a different Nash. One I conjured out of memories and fantasy. One who doesn't exist. This Nash looks like he's barely holding on to basic living.
My shoulders sag. "Nash, I just-I don't want him hurt. I can't let him get attached to someone who's not going to be a part of his life."
A muscle in Nash's jaw flexes. "Who says I'm not sticking around?"
I press my lips together. "I never said you could."
It's the wrong thing to say. He has a legal right to be in his son's life whether I want it or not, but he doesn't challenge me. He rubs his stubbled jaw, still trying to peer past me at our son.
The static-y quality to his animal grows louder.
I shiver, my lioness senses telling me I've made a mistake, but I ignore them.
"You have a son." The awe in his tone would make more sense if he'd said we have a son. The omission sets of alarm bells for me.
"Yeah. His name is Nolan. He's pretty awesome." I ignore the stabbing desire to share Nolan with Nash-for him to review and soak in every milestone he's missed. To laugh with me over the cuteness I endure on a daily basis. To love him as much as I do.
"Denali," Nash chokes. "I didn't know."