“You’re hiding your history.”
“I don't want Fergus becoming a kidnap victim.”
Ivan was leaning against the counter, wheezing. Artem had put his book down and was watching the exchange with a stillness that meant he was filing it away for future mockery.
"I love you," I said to Gregor. "I love you and your encrypted dog sweater purchases and your clear command structure andthe fact that you've apparently promoted Fergus to some kind of tactical role."
Gregor looked at me. Then at the Doberman, who was still sitting on the threshold looking deeply conflicted about his life choices. Then at Fergus, who was now lying on his back with his sweater riding up, demanding belly rubs.
Gregor said. "The sweater was a necessary investment for our pack dog."
"Of course it was."
That night, after the house had gone quiet and Mac had been put down in the nursery, I paused outside the door because I was nosy and because no woman with functioning ears passed up the opportunity to eavesdrop on three alphas who thought they were alone with a baby.
Artem was in the rocking chair with Mac against his chest, one hand covering almost the whole of our son's back. He was murmuring in Russian. Not singing, exactly, but something rhythmic and low that made the lamps flicker.
Ivan was on the rug with Fergus asleep on his stomach, providing improvised English lyrics.
"—and the little wolf said, I will guard the perimeter, and the big wolf said, the perimeter is already guarded, and the little wolf said—"
"That is not how the song goes," Artem said without opening his eyes.
"The song lacked narrative urgency."
"The baby is not seeking narrative urgency."
"How do you know? He has excellent taste. He's been staring at me for five minutes."
"He's staring at the ceiling fan."
"It's a very nice fan."
Gregor stood by the window, arms folded, pretending to monitor the grounds. He was humming under his breath.
Ivan pointed without looking. "He's humming again."
"I am not."
Mac made a tiny, contented sound.
Gregor's mouth softened by that barely visible degree. "He finds the frequency stabilizing."
"You mean he likes it," I said from the doorway.
Three heads turned. For men trained in stealth, they all looked wonderfully caught.
"I was told to have a bath and relax," I said. "I didn't realize relaxation came with a private concert and tactical analysis."
Ivan grinned. "You’re very welcome."
Artem looked down at Mac, whose eyes had closed. "He was restless."
"And now?"
"Now he is settled."
The quiet pride in his voice made my throat tighten. I kissed each of them and went to actually take the bath I'd been promised.
