Chapter 205

Veylan was in love.

Not with me, though he loved me too, deeply and truly and with all his heart. No, this was a different kind of love, a love that had transformed him overnight into something soft and ridiculous and utterly devoted. He could not stop looking at the pups. Could not stop touching them, holding them, counting their tiny front and back paws and their tiny, twitching ears.

My stoic mate. My calm, collected, reserved Veylan. Reduced to a puddle of adoration by five silver pups.

It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

He sat in the corner of the living room, the pups nestled in a basket beside him, his hand resting on their tiny bodies, his silver eyes soft with a wonder that made my heart ache. He spoke to them in low murmurs, nonsense words, love words, promises and poetry and everything in between. He kissed their heads, their bellies, their little paws. He counted their breaths, checked their warmth, adjusted their blankets a hundred times a day.

"You are obsessed," I told him, watching from the day bed Leon had built for me.

"I am in love," he corrected, not looking up from the pups.

"Same thing."

"Not the same thing at all." He finally looked at me, his eyes bright with joy. "This is different. This is... this is everything. This is the thing I was afraid of, Krys. The thing I almost refused. And now..." He shook his head, wonder in his eyes. "Now I cannot imagine a life without them."

Niku and Sikai had taken to the pups immediately, their young faces bright with fascination. They had appointed themselves Veylan’s assistants, fetching blankets and warming stones and anything else he needed, their small hands gentle as they helped care for their new siblings.

"They are so small," Sikai whispered, staring at Zhaevren with wide eyes.

"Smaller than we were," Niku added, his brow furrowed. "They cannot even open their eyes properly yet."

"They will," Veylan said, his voice warm. "Give them time. They will grow. They will shift. They will run and play and drive us all mad."

"Like us?" Niku asked.

"Exactly like you," Veylan confirmed, and both boys beamed.

I watched them, my sons and my mate and my new pups, and thought about the strange workings of this world. In my old world, cats and dogs were enemies, natural rivals, creatures that fought for territory and dominance. Cats liked to act superior, aloof, indifferent to you, like a narcissist who expected you to earn their attention. Dogs were different, messier, more eager, willing to get a bit dirty and roll in the mud, but they had earned their title as a man’s best friend for good reason. They were loyal to a fault, devoted without condition, loving you even when you did not deserve it.

Both had their virtues. Both had their flaws. And here, in this world, both had become family.

Beast men could be friends and family and mates, regardless of their species. Take Ravin and Leon, for example. Lions. Natural kings of their pride. And yet they loved and protected Veylan and Eryx, wolves, a natural rivals, as fiercely as if they were their own blood. Soryn, a serpent, loved and cared for Ravin and Leon, even though the serpent and the lion had started out bickering constantly, snapping at each other like the natural enemies they were supposed to be. And Aureon, a tiger, a cat in every sense of the word, loved and respected Caelion, a merman, a creature of the fish tribe.

Cats ate fish. And yet Aureon loved Caelion. And Caelion loved him right back.

It should not have worked. Back in my old world, it never would have. Species stuck to their own kind, stayed in their own lanes, kept to the neat little boxes nature had carved out for them. Predator and prey did not mix. Cat and dog did not mix. Lion and wolf did not mix. But here, in this world, everything mixed, everything blended, everything blurred together into something new and strange and honestly kind of beautiful.

It worked because love did not care. Love did not check your species or consult some rulebook or ask nature for permission. It just happened. And it bound us all together, predator and prey, cat and fish, lion and wolf, into something stronger, weirder, and more wonderful than any of us could have ever managed on our own.

Levy appeared in the doorway, her black hair tangled, her dark eyes curious. She approached the basket cautiously, her small nose twitching as she sniffed the air.

"They smell funny," she announced.

"They are newborns," Veylan said, amused. "They smell like newborns."

Levy sniffed again, then leaned down to smell the girl pups, Vaeshira and Nyselle, her nose wrinkling. "They are so hairy," she said, her voice disapproving. "Will they stay this hairy forever? Girls with too much hair is not cute."

Veylan laughed, the sound bright and full. "This is their beast form, little one. When they shift, they will not be hairy like this. They will have skin, and hair only on their heads, like you."

Levy considered this, her brow furrowed. "So they will be pretty?"

"Very pretty," Veylan confirmed. "As pretty as you."

Levy nodded, satisfied, and settled beside the basket to watch her new sisters with the intense focus of a girl who had appointed herself their protector.

The morning passed in quiet contentment, the house full of soft sounds and softer hearts. And then Rhonda arrived.

She came with a basket of her own, filled with food and herbs and small gifts for the pups, her sharp eyes bright with warmth. And behind her, tall and quiet, came Lark.

Rhonda’s firstborn. Her son. A wolf pup, like his mother, perhaps seventeen in human form, broad-shouldered and handsome, with his mother’s sharp eyes and his father’s quiet strength. He was at the age of becoming an adult, only a few months from his own transformation, and he carried himself with the careful dignity of a young male who knew he was on the cusp of something important.

He entered the house, his eyes scanning the room, taking in the pups, the mates, the chaos. And then his gaze found Levy.

And stopped.

She was on the floor with the pups, her black hair loose around her shoulders, her dark eyes bright, her small body curled protectively around the basket. She looked up at the new arrivals, curious, and her gaze met Lark’s.

For him, something shifted. Something electric. Something that made his breath catch and his eyes widen.

But Levy, oblivious, simply smiled at him, friendly and easy, and returned her attention to the pups.

Lark stared. He could not help it. He stared at her like she was the sun, the moon, the stars all at once, his whole world narrowing to the curve of her smile and the shine of her black hair. And she did not notice. Not at all. Not even a little.

She had no idea what she had just done to him.

I watched the whole thing, my heart sinking and soaring in equal measure.

Who could blame him? Levy was beautiful. Even at one year old, even at twelve in appearance, she was stunning, her black hair gleaming, her dark eyes luminous, her face the kind of perfect that made people stop and stare. And Lark, at the cusp of adulthood, was at the perfect age to notice.

I sighed.

"Something wrong?" Veylan asked, following my gaze.

"Nothing," I said. "Just... watching the future unfold."

Veylan looked at Lark, at Levy, at the way the young wolf could not take his eyes off my daughter. He smiled, slow and knowing.

"He is a good boy," he said. "Strong. Loyal. Kind. If he is to be the one..."

"He is not the one," I said firmly. "Theo is the one. Levy has decided. Levy has promised. Levy will not be swayed."

"Levy is one year old," Veylan pointed out. "She has time to change her mind."

"She will not change her mind," I said. "She is Leon’s daughter. Stubborn as stone."

Veylan laughed, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Then perhaps Lark is simply practice. Or perhaps Theo is the practice, and Lark is the real thing. Or perhaps..." He shrugged. "Perhaps we should just watch and see."

I looked at my daughter, at the two young males who would one day fight for her heart, and I sighed again.

"I am not ready for this," I said.

"You have years," Veylan assured me.

"Not enough years," I muttered. "Never enough years."

And in the corner, oblivious to the drama unfolding around her, Levy cooed at her new sisters, her future mates forgotten, her heart still innocent, still free, still hers alone.

Moments later, the door opened again, and Mirena arrived with her children in tow.

Mira burst through first, her dark hair flying, her face bright with excitement. She made a beeline for Levy, throwing her arms around her friend with the easy affection, who had shared secrets and games and scraped knees and everything in between.

"Levy!" she squealed. "You have new sisters! Can I see them? Can I hold one? Please?"

Levy laughed, pulling Mira down beside her. "They are so small, Mira. You have to be gentle."

"I am always gentle," Mira protested, though her eager hands suggested otherwise.

And behind Mira, trailing at a slower pace, came her brother.

He was perhaps thirteen in human form, dark-haired like his mother, with the same sharp intelligence in his eyes. He entered the room with the casual confidence of a boy who knew his place in the world, his gaze sweeping the space, landing on Levy, fixing on her with the same intensity that Lark had shown.

Just like Lark, he stared.

Just like Lark, he could not help himself.

Levy, oblivious, continued playing with the pups, her dark hair falling across her face, her laughter bright and free. And Mira’s brother watched her like a man watching a sunrise, his expression soft, his eyes wide, his whole body leaning toward her as though drawn by an invisible string.

And then the serpent girls arrived.

Seraya, Nyssara, and Elira came through the door like a trio of ethereal beings, their green hair flowing, their emerald eyes luminous, their faces delicate and beautiful and utterly, impossibly lovely. They were a year old now, like Levy, appearing perhaps ten in human form, their small bodies graceful and lithe, their presence filling the room with something almost magical.

And Mira’s brother changed direction.

His eyes snapped from Levy to the serpent girls, his head turning so fast I thought his neck might crack. He stared at them, at their green hair and emerald eyes, at their ethereal beauty, and his mouth actually fell open.

Seraya noticed. She smiled, shy and sweet, and waved.

Mira’s brother waved back, his face flushing crimson, his hand flapping awkwardly as though it had forgotten how to function.

I watched the whole thing, my heart sinking and soaring and doing something complicated in between.

At this point, I did not think Levy would be the only one with males lining up for her when she came of age. The serpent girls were just as beautiful, just as captivating, just as likely to attract attention. And the Pearlings, my little Mer daughters, they would grow up to be stunning beyond measure. And the new pups, Vaeshira and Nyselle, they would be beautiful too, silver and graceful and carrying the azure sovereign light.

My girls. All of them. So pretty it was almost scary.

It was not fair. To the males of the world, it was not fair at all. They would fall, one by one, helplessly, hopelessly, like flies to honey. They would fight and compete and make fools of themselves. They would recite poetry and carve gifts and stand outside our home with lovesick expressions, hoping for a glimpse, a smile, a kind word.

And my daughters, my beautiful, oblivious daughters, would have no idea of the chaos they caused.

I sighed, long and deep.

"What is it?" Veylan asked, looking up from the pups.

"Nothing," I said. "Just... thinking about the future. About how many males are going to lose their minds over our daughters."

Veylan looked at the room, at Lark and Mira’s brother, both of them staring at Levy and the serpent girls with identical expressions of dazed wonder. He looked at the pups in his arms, at their tiny silver forms, and he smiled.

"Many," he said. "Many, many males. And we will have to protect them all."

"We will," I agreed. "All of us. Together."

And in the corner, the children played on, oblivious to the drama, the future, the chaos that awaited them. They were young. They were innocent. They were beautiful.

And they were mine.

For now.

For now, they were mine.