Page 136 of Wicked Savage Wolves
When he finishes with that he yawns and I know he’s ready for a nap, but I haven’t quite figured out his routine for that yet. From what I’ve seen so far, he usually just falls asleep after nursing and well, I don’t have tits for my little man to get what he needs. But, I don’t want to call Joaninha for that either.
“How’s everything going?” she asks, poking her head into the room, as if me thinking of her somehow conjured her to appear. Her wet hair hangs in loose curls around her makeup-less face. I’m stunned for a moment at the sight of her. She’s fucking beautiful.
Wearing an army green tank top that hugs her chest and waist like a second skin, she shows off every inch of her delectable curves. Fuck me. I haven’t seen her in anything form fitting since the night we met. She looks good enough to eat. My mouth waters and I wonder what she tastes like.
“We’re good,” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t betray me.
“Do you need me to—”
I shake my head. “Nah. I got it.” I give her a wink. “Go. You have homework, right?”
Her eyes are conflicted but she nods and leaves the room with a muttered, “Call me if you need me.” But I’ll figure it out. He ate. He played. I check his diaper and we’re good on that front too.
I rock César in my arms, adjusting his position a few times until we find one that’s comfortable for him. He fusses a little, but I manage to keep him quiet for the most part. I don’t want Joaninha thinking I can’t handle this. I want to take him to meet my sister, which means she needs to trust me enough to let me take César on my own. We agreed we’d do this her way, and I don’t want to push, but my baby sister was bouncing off the walls as soon as I told her she’s an aunt. I know Antonio wants to meet him too. Hell, Isa was even me asking today at school when I’d be bringing him over despite all the shit she’s dealing with right now.
And none of that can happen if the mother of my child barely trusts me alone with him when she’s right there in the next room.
“We’ve got this, don’t we, little man?” I whisper and rub circles on his back until his head rests against my shoulder. Holding him in my arms reminds me of how fragile he is. He hasn’t shown any signs that he might be a shifter. I know what Jo said. He’s already showing he’s a psyker like her, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be both. At least I don’t think it does. But either way, he’s mine no matter what. I just didn’t realize how terrifying this would be. Shifters let their pups get a little reckless. We allow them to tumble and learn from their mistakes. They heal. They grow. But my boy isn’t built of the same stuff. If he’s not a wolf, that means he doesn’t have Lyc-V coursing through his veins to heal his scrapes and bruises. Even the smallest fall can have severe consequences for him.
My chest tightens.
Has Joaninha’s mom’s boyfriend ever hurt him? Does he know my boy has a shifter’s blood running through his veins? If he didn’t know before, he probably does now.
That makes him even more dangerous. I’m almost certain the Pack will ensure Pack justice is served, but I don’t know what is involved with a decision being made. Isa wasn’t Pack when she was attacked—still isn’t. Will the local Seethe press the matter or cut their losses to avoid pissing our Pack off?
I’ve considered asking Jo what she knows. Does she think the bastard will walk? Does her mom know anything? Rafael’s dad—my Alpha—is being tight-lipped about the entire thing. He doesn't want us getting involved. He’s in a precarious position. I get that.
The Southwest Pack can’t go to war over someone who isn’t one of their own, no matter that Isa is mated to his son. But neither can he set the precedent that shifters are free game. It makes us look weak, and that's one thing no faction can afford. Regardless of Isa’s unafilliation, she was a wolf in our territory. That makes the Southwest Pack responsible for her well being. End of story.
César falls asleep and I take a chance, slowly dropping onto the sofa and centering him on my chest. When he doesn’t stir, I sigh in relief and look down at the mop of dark brown hair on his head, pressing my lips to his temple. There’s no sense in worrying about things I can’t change.
I prop my feet on the coffee table and settle back in my seat, letting my eyes close as I listen to the steady inhale and exhale of his breaths.
I’m completely content to sit here until he wakes up. There isn’t anywhere else I’d rather be than right where I am with my boy in my arms.
Joaninha’s face flashes behind my closed eyelids, my wolf reminding me that we’re still missing one piece of this near-perfect picture.
57
Jo
The shower is heaven. I haven’t been able to take one that wasn’t rushed in longer than I can remember. I almost feel guilty for taking my time and going through the motions of shaving my legs and deep conditioning my hair—something it desperately needed.
When Jordy showed up on my porch, I realized I like having him here. In a way, it helps. Sure, I’ve always had my mom, but she never really stepped in for the parenting parts. If César was hungry, I fed him. If he needed a nap, I was the one to put him down. If he was having a rough day and insisted he be held twenty-four-seven, I was the one who held him. Mom helps me out if I can’t be there because of school, but if I’m home, the responsibility of caring for César falls directly on my shoulders. As it should. I’m not complaining.
But with Jordy around, there’s someone to help carry that load, even if all he does is play with him on the floor while I shower or make something to eat. I never noticed how much easier it is to accomplish simple tasks without carrying a baby around with me while I did them.
I towel my hair dry and after checking in to make sure Jordy is doing okay with César, I turn on my laptop and check to see if any of my teachers emailed me back. I let them all know last night after I got off the phone with Mom that I wouldn’t be there. I came up with an excuse that César was sick and thankfully it doesn’t seem like any of them are disgruntled about it. They’re probably all married or mated with kids of their own and while César isn’t actually sick, I couldn’t very well say, “My mom’s boyfriend was taken by the Pack and she’s conspiring with the local vampire Seethe to get him released.” Well, I guess I could. But I don’t really want to air out all of our dirty laundry if I don’t have to.
I spoke with Mom briefly last night, but she didn’t tell me much, only that she’d come home when she could. When things weresettled.I’m not sure what she’s hoping for. He attacked a teenage girl. Someone who happens to be the same age as her daughter. That she’s even speaking to the man is beyond me, but I can’t very well tell her all that over the phone.
This might be one of those things she needs to work out for herself, and with any luck, once the Pack decides what to do with him, she will. I don’t think the reality of the situation has hit her yet. She’s still trying to process everything and still clinging to the hope that this is all some horrible misunderstanding.
I’ve spoken with Isa on the phone a few times since Friday. She’s confident Diego is one of her attackers, and after seeing his reaction to her with my own eyes, I believe her. I shiver just thinking about what she must have gone through. How terrifying it all was.
She told me the other vampires who came for her are dead. Diego was the only one who got away. I’m glad she won’t have that hanging over her head anymore. I can’t imagine what she’s been going through, constantly having to look over her shoulder. Worrying if he’d come back to finish what he started.
I sigh and rub the back of my neck. This is all such a mess. I’m trying to be there for my friend. For my mom. All while trying to figure my own shit out. It’s all so much.
