Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75650 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75650 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
In its place is a much larger sled, with Pashov securing a large leather cover over its contents.
I struggle to wade through the snow over to his side. “Is my tent gone?”
He turns and looks at me, then rushes over to grab Pacy from my arms. “I packed it for you.”
“You did?”
Pashov casually tucks Pacy against him and grins at me. “Of course. I made it for you. I will pack it up for you.” He grabs Pacy’s waving little hand and gives it a small shake. “How is this little one today?”
“He’s great.” I’m a little wary at Pashov’s mood…but pleased. In this moment, he feels so much like his old self that it’s making me ache. “His mommy is struggling, though.”
Pashov immediately turns, surprised. He moves to my side, wading through the deep snow as if it is nothing. “What is it?”
I shake my head, sorry I complained. “Cold. It’s all right. I just need to adjust.”
He gestures over at the sled he’s packing. “I have more furs—”
“I’ll be fine once I start walking.”
He turns back to me, surprised. “You wish to walk today?”
Huh? “Um, I can’t stay here.”
“I thought I would pull you on the sled. Like others are pulling their mates.” His voice is almost shy. Is that a hint of a dark blush spreading on his blue cheeks?
Is my mate…shy?
I can’t help but be startled. It’s never occurred to me that because he’s missing huge gaps in his memory, he won’t know how to act around me. It’s always been about me and how wounded I am.
Oh my god. I’m realizing that I’m a huge jerk. He’s trying, isn’t he? He’s trying to figure out how he fits in to this, and I’m making it difficult. I didn’t realize. “I don’t want to be a burden,” I whisper.
“You? You are light and airy, like Pacy. You weigh no more than a spindly scythe-beak,” he scoffs.
I raise an eyebrow at that. I’m pretty sure that among most humans I’d be labeled as ‘solid,’ and that hasn’t changed after giving birth. But if he wants to think that, he can. “Your sled grew overnight.”
“I realized I could carry more.” He extends a hand to me. “And I made room for my mate, as I should have yesterday.”
I slowly put my hand in his. “If you’re sure you don’t mind…”
“It would give me great pleasure.” His eyes gleam as if the thought of hauling my weight on top of a super-sized sled is indeed the most exciting thing he’s thought about all dang day.
“Well, you don’t have to twist my arm.”
Pashov gives a little shake, and then his expression is aghast. “Twist your arm? Is that what humans do?”
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. “You don’t remember anything about humans, do you?”
Some of the brightness dulls in his eyes. “I am relearning what I can.”
“I know. And thank you.”
PASHOV
This is what I need, I realize, as Stay-see gives me a tentative smile. My mate’s happiness. It feels as if something shifts into place inside my mind. This is what I am meant to do. This is my mate. It is my job not only to care for her, but to make her happy. And I have been doing a poor job of it lately.
That is changing as of now.
I eagerly help her atop the sled. I have packed it carefully so that the softest furs are stacked on top, and there is a small nest at the front of the sled where she can curl up and relax while I pull her. She sits down, and I can see the surprise on her face when she pulls her legs under her. “This is really comfortable.”
“I am glad.” I pull out one of the thickest furs and tuck it on her lap, juggling my son in my other arm. “Will this do? Should I change anything? Repack anything?”
“No, this is fine. Really.” She smooths the blanket over her legs and then reaches for the kit. “Are you sure it won’t be too much for you to pull?”
“Not at all. I am strong. Very strong.”
“You are also still recovering.” Her voice is mild with rebuke, but there is a smile on her face.
I am fascinated by that small curve of her mouth. Her lips look so soft. So pink. My cock rises in my breeches, responding to her pleasure, and I force myself to remain busy until it calms once more. There’s a low rumble in my chest that I don’t recognize at first.
It’s resonance.
I rub my chest, surprised. I should not be. Of course I am resonating to her. She is my mate, and even now, my kit is in her lap. I hear a soft sound and realize that she is singing back to me, her khui responding to mine. I remain still, waiting for the unbearable need to sweep through me. For the song to become so consuming that I have no choice but to respond.