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Wesley was an enigma—sweet and caring toward Emmie and serious about looking after us. He’d wanted to send us away, but he was there for us. I would accept whatever difficulty he threw my way if it meant that Emmie would be safe.
These attacks had to be about my daughter and her dragon coming to the surface—it was the only thing that made sense.
Until she’d started showing signs of magic, our life had been boring and normal andhuman. It was after that night she’d gotten so sick that all hell had broken loose.
I glanced down at my daughter, who leaned against me, and realized she’d fallen asleep.
“What now?” I asked softly into the cabin of the truck.
“Now, we make sure you get a good night’s rest, and tomorrow, we’ll figure out what to do.”
I didn’t have a better solution. A good night’s sleep sounded divine.
When we arrived at the penthouse suite, Wesley pushed open the door for us, and I carried my sleeping daughter in my arms. Movement in the formal living room caught my eye, and someone walked toward us.
“Circe?” I asked.
Emmie whimpered. When I put her down, she hurried to Circe, grabbing onto her when Circe kneeled down to hug her. When I reached her, she stood again, and I wrapped my arms around her.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she breathed.
I hugged her tightly, my hands tangling in her long curly hair.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, finally letting go. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”
Circe put her hand on Emmie’s head before glancing at Wesley.
“The alpha asked me to come.”
I looked at Wesley, who leaned against the doorpost, his arms folded over his chest.
“I figured a bit of fae help would do us all good.”
Circe and Wesley stared at each other, and something passed between them that I had no way of understanding.
“I’m here as long as you need me,” Circe said.
“You have no idea how great that is,” I said, suddenly close to tears. The night was starting to cave in on me, and I was struggling to keep it together.
“Mommy?” Emmie said.
“Yeah, honey?”
“I’m hungry.”
I blinked at my daughter. After everything, she was thinking about her stomach. It had to be some kind of proof that despite how traumatic the whole night had been, it hadn’t affected her in the same way. Something about Emmie was different. Her magic was affecting her differently, or letting her experience things differently, and I didn’t understand it. At least, now that Circe was here, I could ask her.
“Why don’t we get something to eat?” Wesley asked, speaking up. He kneeled so that his face was the same height as Emmie’s. “Do you like toaster waffles?”
“I love them,” Emmie said, beaming.
“Then we should go make some,” Wesley said. “We could even add some syrup and whipped cream to make them extra good.”
Emmie looked up at me. “Can I?”
“Yeah,” I said.
I looked at Wesley, his blue eyes locking on mine, and I blushed. It felt like he could see right through me and into my soul.
