No words came, but he did hold her just a bit tighter.
She clung to the Statue of Liberty.
He offered a warm smile. “Do you like that?”
Her little head moved up and down as she nodded.
“Then it’s yours,” he said, doing his best to keep his voice soft.
She tried to smile but whimpered as the cuts on her cheek and neck pulled.
In that moment, Rurik vowed he’d scour the earth to find the bastard who had hurt her and make the man pay.
“Boris, we need to get her back to the infirmary,” said Duke.
Blaise entered the bullpen and the second he saw the child in Rurik’s arms, relief showed on his face. “Good, you found her. Where was she?”
Gram pointed in the direction of Rurik’s desk. “The wee one was hiding under his desk.”
Duke grunted. “She has crap taste in operatives.”
The little girl glanced in Duke’s direction, narrowing her gaze on him. It was then Rurik felt a buzz of power in the air. It was slight, yet something told him, if unleashed, it would be powerful. He knew she was the source. He’d already seen her toss grown men with ease.
“I fight the urge to go at him every time I’m near him,” Rurik said. “It’s honestly an exercise in restraint. But let’s not use any magik right now. Do you understand?”
Again, she nodded, but she didn’t take her eyes from Duke.
Duke lifted his hands, signaling surrender. “I take it back. You have great taste in operatives. Yay Russia. Communism rules. Don’t throw any more power at me, okay, kid? Twice was enough.”
Gram laughed. “The lass has a guid deal of Fae in her.”
Boomer tipped his head. “Someone explain to me how it is she can use magik, but she’s not able to heal? Shouldn’t that serum be messing with her magik too?”
“Who is to say it isn’t?” asked Duke. “What if it is dulling her magik and she can still do what she did?”
Boomer’s eyes widened. “That would mean she’s damn powerful.”
“Not sure something that powerful should be left unchecked,” said Duke.
Rurik growled. “If anyone thinks of harming her or trying to lock her away, they will have me to deal with.”
Blaise approached slowly. He lifted his arms in the direction of the little girl, as if to take her from Rurik.
She shook her head and then put her uninjured cheek to Rurik’s shoulder. She nestled against his chest, holding the Statue of Liberty close to her, and relaxed somewhat.
With a sigh, Rurik looked at Blaise. “I can hold her while you tend to her face. If that will be easier.”
Blaise stared between them and gave a slight nod. “That works for me. You can help keep her still. I was worried I’d need to strap her to a backboard in order to handle her wounds properly without her moving around. And restraining her is the last thing I wanted to do.”
Rurik handed the pie off to Blaise. “What do you say we get her face addressed and then get her some pie? I think she’s hungry.”
“For a guy who says he’s not good with kids, you seem to be doing all right,” said Blaise, holding the pie and fighting a smile.
Duke laughed. “Good God, can you imagine Boris as a nanny?”
“Stop calling me Boris,” snarled Rurik. “It’s not my name.”
The little girl lifted her head and the figurine. She cocked her head to one side, ran a finger over the nickel plate on the base of the statue, and whispered to him, her lips barely moving as she did. “Jackass?”
Duke snorted. “Better judge of character than I thought.”
Rurik found himself laughing softly. “You are small, yet you can read?”
She nodded and looked him over carefully. “Jackass?” she repeated, making the others laugh.
“That is not a word you should say,” he returned, still amused by her.
The other men chuckled softly as well, looking to be torn between tears at the sight of her injuries and the fact she’d just basically asked Rurik if his name was Jackass, not once but twice.
“Ready to let Blaise handle your cheek and then have some more of the pie?” asked Rurik.
She made a small grunting noise that sounded a lot like “uh-huh.” She then reached up, smashing the statue between them more, and began toying with his hair. It took him a second to realize that she was trying to braid it.
Apparently, Siberia had managed to get even colder.
He bit back a groan and was about to tell her to stop when he saw joy in her wide brown eyes. Instead, he found himself nodding, and calling her a pet name, of all things, that was Russian.
Her brow furrowed.
He winked. “Little Paw,” he said, translating it for her.
She blinked up at him, still braiding his hair. Her eyes lit more, and he could tell the nickname made her happy.
“I’ve got you, Little Paw,” said Rurik. “You are safe now.”
Chapter Four
Present day, Durham, North Carolina…
Liberty Mansfield shot up in bed, grabbing her cheek as the words “little paw” echoed in her head, in a voice that was male and distinctly Eastern European.
The sound of the fan oscillating back and forth near the open second-floor window filled the air. It caused the sheer curtains to lift slightly.
The home was old and while it had been upgraded at some point with central air, the system didn’t do much to keep the house cool, but it did run up the electric bill. Since Liberty lived on a college-student budget, outrageous utility bills weren’t a luxury she could afford.
Her bedroom was dimly lit, but it was enough for her to see things were not as they should be. Namely, more than one item was floating, suspended in midair.
A lump formed in
