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But I never thought we’d add killer to her list of faults.
“I think it’s not out of the realm of probability,” Topher says diplomatically.
Maia nods slowly, looking down at Phoebe. She brushes a soft curl of Phoebe’s hair out of her face. “Where does the danger end?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, turning to her properly.
“It ends with us,” Seb says. Maia’s eyes rise to his, and he gives one nod. “You are safe.”
“Seb is correct,” Topher says. “You will never be harmed, if we can help it, princess. Not a single member of our family will get to you, or Phoebe, without our say so.”
She bites her lip, her eyes cast downwards, as the scent of her guilt fills the air. Ben’s mouth opens, but I slam against his mental barriers in warning.
“Do not push her,” I say with a firm look. He narrows his eyes. “It’s likely related to her secret that she’s keeping, and she needs to know we can trust her to come to us when she is ready.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I have ever heard,” Max says, and if he were in control of our body, I have no doubt there would be a pout larger than the one on Ben’s face on ours. “Maia is our mate. There should never be secrets between a bonded pair. She shares our soul. What secret could be greater than that?”
I don’t have an answer.
“So what happens next? Do we contact the police?” Her lip quivers, but she composes herself. “The werewolf police are subject to the whims of your parents, right?”
“Correct,” Ben says. “But a bounty hunter isn’t. I’m sure we can just?—”
“Our parents are not on pack lands right now,” Topher says, and her eyes snap over to his.
I breathe in the warm scent of orange and vanilla sugar that’s attached to my mate and let out a low grumble that should hopefully help soothe her. She’s frazzled.
“It gives us time to do a little investigating and prepare our plan of attack for when they return,” Topher says in a soothing tone. “They’re currently assisting another pack with some issues they’re having.”
“And how long will that take to resolve?” Maia asks.
“They’re expected back at the end of April—a month or so,” I reply, and tears well up in her eyes just as Phoebe pops off her boob and cries.
Maia’s voice is utterly broken as she murmurs, “Can one of you give her some love for a moment?”
I swoop in before Seb can, and I lift the tiny, precious bundle into my arms. Seb growls at me but comes to sit on the sofa after moving Maia’s food out of the way. He lifts her into his lap, as I adjust Phoebe so I can burp her.
She lets out a loud burp and settles down almost immediately. I press a soft kiss to her head, taking in deep whiffs of her scent. After her mother’s, Phoebe’s scent is the most potent in the world.
She smells of kin—of being a werewolf.
She smells like Maia.
She smells like Ryan.
But more than that—she smells like me, and Topher, and Ben, and Seb.
She smells like her daddies.
“You’re beautiful,” I murmur as I nestle the pup into my chest. She buries her face into my shirt, and I can see the little flashes of appreciation in her mind. She’s safe, comfortable, warm, and tired.
“Look how much our pup loves us,” Max says eagerly. “We’re amazing dads and amazing mates. We’ll love them both more than anyone else ever could.”
“Can’t you call them back sooner?” Maia asks.
“We could… but it would severely affect how we play things,” Topher says. “If we call them back early, they’re going to want to know why, and it’ll have them on the defensive.”
“We need to act normal,” Maia whispers, and Seb nods, rubbing her back.
