The thought actually makes my chest ache. I want to be privy to all her fantasies-even if they’re as benign as a self-driving car. The memory of what we did the last time I was here rushes back and my cock thickens.
Down, boy. Not here. Not in front of her kid. Our kid. Why is that hard for me to accept?
Maybe because I know nothing about children. Or because the cub is a stranger. Or because I’m not going to take on the father role with him. And that thought sets up an itchiness that crawls over every inch of my skin.
Am I going to allow some other asshole to take the role of a father with him?
Over my dead, fucking body.
“I’ve never seen another lion,” the boy says, still not looking up from his work in the sand.
“Yeah, I haven’t seen any, either. I’ve never even seen your momma’s lion,” I admit. The longing to see her animal grabs me like a fist closing around my shirt, tugging me forward into the depths of desire.
It’s an unfamiliar desire. Do I want to mate her in animal form? According to Parker, only same-species shifters can engage that way, which was why he and Declan were the subjects of cross-gene therapy under Dr. Smyth’s study.
Fuck, yes. I want it. Or at least I want the chase. The hunt. I want to run with her, take her down to her back and hold her throat with my teeth to demand her surrender. Then shift and fuck her beautiful body in human form. Because, damn. I would never grow tired of looking at that perfection.
Denali drags her lower lip through her teeth and I wonder if she’s thinking of something similar.
DENALI
TWENTY MINUTES with Nash and all I can think about is how to get horizontal with him again. But I can’t. Nolan’s around all weekend. I’m not going to invite Nash in or to sleep over with Nolan in the house.
Not until…
I don’t know.
I’m scared of the depth of my attraction to this guy I know very little about. It’s not that I think he’d ever harm me or Nolan. Not like that.
But I have to be careful. Emotionally.
I don’t want Nolan getting attached to someone if things aren’t going to work out permanently. I don’t want his heart broken.
Hell, I don’t want my heart broken, either. And even though I was the one who did the leaving last time, Nash still took a chunk out of my heart.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been haunting my dreams all this time, would he?
He cages his hands together and I eye the taut cords of his forearms, the golden hairs curling and glinting in the sun. His tattoos peek from beneath his short sleeves. Beautiful man.
Yeah, I want to see his lion, too.
“What about your parents?” Nolan asks Nash. “Didn’t you see their lions?”
I still for the story, needing to know more about Nash. “My parents weren’t around when I was young.” The tightness in his tone tells me there’s a story there. “I grew up in foster care. I never even met my own lion until Afghanistan…” he trails off and I sense he wants to shield Nolan from the terrible things he’s seen in his lifetime. I understand because I have to do it all the time.
“Mr. Nash was a soldier in the war, Nolan. A hero for our country. His lion came out in the war to save him.”
Nolan puts down his shovel and looks Nash square in the eye for the first time. “Are lions heroes?”
Pain flickers over Nash’s face.
I sit cross-legged beside him. “Yes.” I speak over whatever answer Nash was going to give. Or whatever he’s thinking. I don’t like that tortured look in Nash’s eye. He probably has more PTSD than I can even imagine.
“You know the lion is king of the jungle, right baby?”
Nolan won’t look away from Nash. “Are you a mountain lion?”
A surprised laugh comes from Nash. “No. Jungle lion.”
“I thought all lions had dark skin.”
“Ah.” Nash looks at me, surprise flitting over his face, like he’s never considered why he’s white. “Well, yeah. I suppose you’re right-lions come from Africa. I guess my ancestors bred with humans or other shifters in America and gradually their skin got lighter. Just like your skin is lighter than your momma’s.”
“Yep, and mine is lighter than my daddy’s,” I supply. Nolan and I have discussed this before, but I never explained it in terms of breeding. I didn’t want him wondering about the color of his father. I’d just told him different lions were different colors. I don’t know where he got it in his head that lions should have dark skin. Of course, he’s right. The only lion shifters I knew before Nash were of African descent.
“Smart kid,” Nash mutters and my mouth twists in a wry smile.
“Yep.” I hope this doesn’t prompt questions from Nolan about who I bred with to get him. I fear it will.
“Are you my dad?”
Shit!
Way too smart for his own good.
Nash nearly falls over where he was squatting. He makes a show of sitting on his ass and brushing sand away before he answers, “No.”
The single syllable sounds choked and gruff. I can tell it doesn’t sit well with Nash to lie to our child, but I’m grateful he honored our agreement.
Even though the disappointment on Nolan’s face kills me.
Nolan gets up and runs for the swings, like he wants to get away from Nash. Or hide. He’s too little to climb up by himself, but he doesn’t ask for help, just catches the seat and swoops around with it, his little feet dragging behind in the sand.
Nash stands up. For a moment I think he’s going to leave, and I’m half disappointed, half relieved, but instead he walks over to the swings.
“Want me to push you?”
“No.” Nolan sounds sullen.
“You sure?” he asks with mock incredulity. “Because I give the best pushes in the whole entire world. You haven’t heard of me?”