Yet she didn’t give off a single hint of fear, staring up at Seeck with such stubbornness I wanted to laugh at the twist fate had dealt Seeck.
“You will drink when and how much I tell you to,” he’d growled.
“No. I’ll drink when you drink, so either keep arguing with me or sip down some water. You’re call, Alpha.”
His snarl had pulled me closer, but Shya’s trembling grew to shaking, so I’d stepped back.
“You’ll drink double what I drink, or we’re heading straight to the Sky-Flyer, Anastasia’s heat be damned. We’ll ruin their honeymoon and destroy Vander’s plan. Want to deal with that fall out, Omega?”
She’d hissed in anger, but after a few tense moments had agreed to his negotiation.
Their truce hasn’t been peaceful, Nova demanding they measure how much each consumes. Instead of being satisfied with drinking out of their water bag’s straw, she’s made Seeck pour out a specific amount for himself and refuses to drink hers until after he swallows down every drop of his.
Their battle has toned down, neither getting everything they want, yet both finding ways to soothe the other through their frustrations.
When it came time for Kwame and Britani to make the two-day round-trip to check in with Vander, Nova and Seeck had apologized for adding more stress to an already unpalatable situation.
It had been cute, embarrassment a rarity from the wild red-headed jerk, but he’d meant his apology.
Nova’s presence in our familial bonds had grown, her need to connect with Shya and Britani a beautiful thing to behold. Their feminine souls had woven the most dazzling picture, my focus torn between watching for danger and soaking in every nuance of their elegance.
Kwame, Seeck, and I had become background characters, peons too dull to join in the rich conversation.
They’d finished shoring each other up for the separation—it wasn’t until that moment I realized my lifemate had been navigating the web of souls created by my teammates and their lifemates, my focus on her well-being and our situation too literal to recognize the social aspect of our bonding.
This is our family, even as odd as the mixture of people may be. We’re missing a few, but their links hover nearby, waiting to join the fray.
Kwame and Britani had left and returned with good news. There were no signs of danger and Jumoke and Anastasia were safe in the Sky-Flyer. Vander had gathered more water. Kwame had carried most of it, passing his pack to Britani since it weighed less, but even so, she’d had to carry a full water bag.
Her bright green eyes had bags underneath, even as the untamed beast in her eyes sparked with awareness of her surroundings. She’d been exhausted but willing to do what it took to accomplish the mission.
The rope usually wound in her hair had been wrapped around her waist instead. She’d stumbled a little as she set down the water sack. Kwame’s grip on the rope had kept her from tumbling to the ground.
I’d felt their joy as Britani gave Kwame a grateful smile.
Shya’s trembling had been the least pronounced since we’d left the Sky-Flyer, her little features scrunching with a happy grin.
I kiss the top of her head, purring in hopes to get her as calm as she was in that moment, but she snuggles her ear against my chest and refuses to look up.
We just finished eating the last snack of the day. Shya clings to me, too strung out by the howling wind and unexpected changes to want to eat a full meal in one sitting.
Our entire entourage has adapted her eating habits, having three small meals and several large snacks throughout the day. It helps pass the time, breaking each day into smaller increments, marking each block with food.
I sit as far back under the overhang as possible, hoping to shield her from the wind.
Seeck and Nova settle as far out as they can without causing silhouettes against the shadows, their last perimeter check done for the evening. The sun would be just now setting on the horizon, except the mountains blocked them almost two hours ago.
Pitch black shadows mingle with lighter darkness, the changing light of dusk causing eerie shifts despite there being zero movement in the landscape.
Kwame finishes sorting the gear into our packs, zipping the last one and leading Britani to us.
As we have after every “meal”, Kwame settles facing me, his knees about six inches from my own as we both sit cross-legged. He runs the rope tied to his wrist through his fingers until Britani rests in his lap, her shoes perched in the small space between my legs and Kwame’s.
Sensing her friend’s closeness, Shya shifts her legs until her shin rests against Britani’s. A tiny hand reaches out, blindly seeking the reassurance of her friend, and Shya shudders in relief when Britani’s palm slides against hers.
I kiss Shya’s head and meet Kwame’s dark eyes. Neither of us understand how we got so lucky.
I lower my purr in deference to my teammate's proximity so it’s no more than a rumble against Shya’s ear. He does the same, my heightened sense of hearing able to pick up his low reverberations only when I strain to listen over the howling wind.
Shya’s unoccupied hand slides under the hem of my shirt, her fingers seeking the heat of my skin. I rub her back with one hand and her knee with the other, caging her in a world of protection and love.
Britani leans forward, giving Kwame space to pull her trapped hair out from between them.
I can’t see his hands through Britani, but his face relaxes as he unwinds her braid, his shoulders bunching in a rhythm even I find soothing. When her locks flow freely around her shoulders, he runs his fingers through them, the striking contrast between his dark hands and her silver hair stunning.
Shya shifts her head, keeping her ear firmly against my chest but angling her face so she can watch the
