Since then, Tenia had played the good little soldier, not because she feared Alston would beat her again, but because she feared he might harm her son in the same way. Alston allowed her visits, like the one she was having now, but that was it. She was no longer allowed to sleep overnight in the same room with Torion. Being separated from her son was worse than any beating she could receive—a form of hell she’d never understood was possible until it had happened. And until she’d met Myanin, she’d had no chance of escaping. Now, for the first time in over a year, Tenia dared hope that maybe, just maybe, she would find a way to free her son. Unless the damn wolf outside the door screws things up. If he did, she wouldn’t hesitate to castrate him, mate or not.
The term mate both disgusted and excited her at the same time. She hated it. The cord she’d felt snap into place when he’d met her eyes felt like a chain, trapping her, not a tether to keep her safe if she were to fall. She was pretty sure there was supposed to be some happy glow or joyous chorus happening inside of her, but instead, her head was pounding as she focused hard on rejecting the mental connection, something that was unique to the mate bond between the werewolves. The skin he’d touched was raw, as if the nerves were exposed. Tenia knew that touch was huge to the Canis lupus. Perhaps this new bond had her flesh crying out for his touch, but her own disgust of what he was a part of made her skin crawl at the mere memory of his hand on her arm. She despised the conflicting emotions when she thought of the wolf. Her soul was screaming, but it wasn’t only screaming at her to run away from him, but to run to him as well. She was going to go mad in a matter of days if this was to be her future. She didn’t want a mate. She didn’t need a mate. And she sure as hell wasn’t taking one that was in league with the Order.
She drew herself from her inner turmoil and focused all her attention on her son. “How have you been?” Tenia asked Torion. Her teeth clenched as she spoke, but she forced joy into her tone because she was ecstatic to see him. She pushed him back, holding his waist and gazing at him. “Let me look at you,” she said with a genuine smile. “I swear you’ve grown since I saw you last.”
“No, I haven’t mother,” he said, as he always did. The thing Torion didn’t understand, couldn’t understand because he was a child, was that he was changing with every single minute that passed, and she was missing most of it. She was being robbed of her right as his mother to get to see every part of his childhood. Many fae parents weren’t that attached to their young, but Tenia had adored her son the minute she’d seen his tiny face. She’d never known she could love so deeply. His shocking turquoise eyes were like his sire’s, but his hair was as blonde as her own. He had a sweet disposition and was so very smart. Torion was also calm. He never seemed to become rattled, often being the one to comfort her through much of their ordeal since Alston had captured them two years ago.
“Well, I think you have,” she said before taking a seat on the floor. Papers and colored pencils were scattered on the ground. Torion was a natural artist, but his drawings were not simply motionless pictures. The boy had the ability to make his art come to life on the pages. He could draw a horse running in a beautiful field and then use his magic to make the animal actually gallop across the paper. Torion only had to think of what he wanted his drawings to do, and they would become like a cartoon, moving and speaking. Tenia worried that his ability could be an early manifestation of a similar power to her own and that one day he’d be able to make living things, not just drawings, do his bidding.
She’d made him promise not to let Alston see what he could do. Torion had slipped up once during one of her visits. He was so excited to show her his drawing of a lion that it roared and leaped across the page when he’d presented it to her. Luckily, her back had been to the camera in his room. She’d pretended to simply be in awe of the drawing itself. And when she’d hugged him, she’d spoken earnestly in his ear that he must never, ever let anyone know what he could do. Torion had sworn that he would never share it with anyone, no matter how much he loved doing it.
“What have you been up to?” she asked, her voice bright, concealing the fact that she was having an internal mental meltdown over her … mate. How could the Great Luna pair her with a Canis lupus, and one with ties to the Order at that?
“Just drawing, mother,” Torion said, emphasizing the first word so she
