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My omega shifts and makes a small sound of worry as her hand splays over the empty sheets beside her. I scoop her up with the inner layers of our nest and cradle her to my chest. She startles awake and clutches the blankets with wide eyes. I rumble a note of apology and stalk out the door.
“Wha—”
“Hush, tiny tigress. There’s no need to swing your claws at me.”
“Where are we going?”
“Right here,” I say as I step over the threshold to the nearest room.
She stops breathing as she scans the cabin. With a balcony full of pots of dirt to our right and a common room to our left, the space is bigger than our den, but with the makeshift hospital beds lining the wall and the shelves stuffed with books, the area feels smaller. Add in the girl rushing toward us and the elderly propped up in the beds, and not even the sunlight streaming in can make it look spacious.
My omega’s tears perfume the air. I tighten my arms around her and growl when her sister gets too close.
“Put me down,” Bette sobs, but I shake my head.
“Not a chance in hell,” I snarl.
“But I—”
“You’re still in heat,” I lie.
She stiffens and swings shimmery eyes up at me.
“Please? I thought I’d never see them again,” she begs.
Even as my heart quivers, I squint and shake my head. The ancient matriarch speaks from her bed.
“Bette, child, calm down. We ain’t going nowhere. You found a rare one, you did. I’ll cling to life for another decade just to see you raise this goliath’s offspring. He’s a potent one. I knew from the first moment I saw him toss you over his shoulder.”
Bette stares back at her with a stunned expression. I deepen my rumble, hoping to buffer her from the unexpected revelation, but the news seems to go over her head as she shifts her gaze to her sister.
“You’re okay? No one hurt you?”
My chest tightens at the worry in her tone.
“No one’s touched me. I’m fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, Bette, I’m sure. Did you see? Grandpa’s here.”
My tiny tigress trembles and sweeps her gaze over the room again, seeing it with fresh eyes. A sob escapes her when she notices the bed tucked in the far corner.
A small monitor blips in time with his heart rate. Bandages cover his entire left side.
“Is he…?” Bette’s voice gives out, but I understand what she means to ask.
“He’ll live. A few broken bones, some burns, and a knock to the head, but he should recover.”
“What happened? How?” Bette asks.
“We heard of an old man who bartered for heat suppressant herbs, so we followed the lead and found him among the remnants of his boat. The raiders got to him first. No one else survived,” I say.
“My uncles?” she asks between hiccups.
“Buried at sea,” I answer.
She tucks her face against my chest and cries.
