The Littlest Light

#Chapter12-03

#Chapter12-03

He claimed he was holding off for his mate; He was waiting to shrivel and die.

The Moon Goddess was a sadistic b***h. She liked to toy with her subjects. Torture them. She played games when it came to mating. There was rarely a mutual recognition, an instant connection of souls, but instead, only coincidences that became patterns, and puzzles that stretched out until the penny dropped. No direct answers, just subtle clues. Sometimes there would be a gravitating effect; paths would cross over and over, distance be damned. Others, it was a scent so unique, so otherworldly, there was nothing else it could be. It was different for everybody. Some were lucky enough to be blessed with the Goddesses' favour and know right away, but others were not so lucky.

And I believed some people just didn't have mates. There was a large portion of the pack that had settled for making their own kind of love rather than relying on fate and destiny. And me? I wasn't so disillusioned to think the Goddess would grant me her favour; I had no mate, wanted no young, and didn't give a damn about any of their customs. But Jonathan did, and his loyalty to his future mate prevented him from taking a woman or producing children while he waited.

"You got what I asked for?" I said, nodding towards the bags at his feet. My voice came out heavy, choked with sleep, thick with tiredness.

"Ass for," came the parroting choir. Lumen glanced up, smiling that gappy little smile, clearly unaware of how close he was to kicking range.

"Yeah." Sparing the kid a glance, Jonathan let out a soft chuckle. "You weren't overly specific, so I added a few things that I thought might come in useful."

"Who told you that you were allowed to think?" I sneered. Table bracing my weight, I pushed to my feet. For a dizzying moment, the world blinked to an unsteady beat before my mind stilled, getting with the program.

"Tink!" came Lumen's input.

"You said he's still a baby," Jonathan reasoned. "And you have no idea what babies need. I've been around enough of my nieces and nephews to know the basics."

The carrier bags were jam-packed, bulking beneath the haul, and as I siphoned through them, frowning at the long list of things that hadn't been on my list, I couldn't help but throw him a side-eyed glare. "I said to get it clothes. I didn't say start up a f*****g daycare centre."

"He needs toys," Jonathan reasoned, reaching down and plucking up the yellow bear that was poking out the top of the nearest bag.

"This is--"

"When it comes to kids, you want to keep them as occupied as possible. Toys are a winner. Trust me." Setting the bear on the counter, almost knocking off the brew he'd just whipped up, he dove back in the bag.

"And those?" Kicking at the bag, contents unloading onto the floor, which induced a gasp from Lumen, who'd paused with his splashing to watch us, my chin jerked towards the hygiene products. Wet wipes. Powder. Nappies.

"He wet himself when I was here yesterday. Twice. And your bedsheets are in the machine, so I'll fill in the gaps."

"I'm not changing one of those." Changing a two year old would have been off the table. Changing something that was the size of a six year old?

No. Damn. Way.

"Then I hope you like running behind him with the mop," was the Beta's reply as he popped a crouch, reaching down to gather up the things that had gone all roly-poly across the floor. "Because that's what's going to happen." Then pausing, he sighed and tore the packaging open. "I'll change him until we figure something out."

"Yeah, well, you better make good on that because if you don't, the kids staying as he is." I didn't care how irritated or unhappy it got. Putting a nappy on a grown ass kid? It was creepy.

It was all good in theory, but after emptying the bags out onto the table, a whole lot of bright and unnecessary, Jonathan tried to put the idea into practise. And that was where the fun began. Like a whippet, the kid bolted as soon as the wolf reached for him, shrieking so damn loud that I could have sworn the glass rattled in the window frame, and when a hand closed around his ankle, grabbing him and trying to pull him towards him, Lumen's arms and legs went full-blown exorcist mode.

"Ouch." Snatching back with a curse, Jonathan shot the kid, who took the opportunity to scamper under the table, using his now empty breakfast bowl as a shield to hide his face behind, a sharp look. "He bit me!"

"So?"

"So he bit me, Sterling. He's drawn blood."

"And yet you still didn't get the thing on," I drawled. "Tell me, why are you my Beta again? Aren't the Omegas the f**k-ups?"

The nappy hit my chest with vulgar force. "Put it on yourself then," was his sharp reply.

"How hard can it be?" I sneered twirling the thing in my hand. It was larger than I'd pictured, and seeing it all up close and personal didn't do much to take away the messed-upness of the situation. Lumen was peeking around the bowl, snatching it back into place every few seconds. Turning to Jonathan, nodding at the crimson punctures that beaded his thumb, I said, "I hope it hurt,' before storming over and snatching the kid out by his arm.

The floor was a sticky, wet mess. Milk turned the grooves into mini lakes and soggy, swollen cornflakes lay around like dead fish. I almost slipped as the thing fought against me. His mistake. Temper flaring, a spark of anger taking a flamethrower to the mellowed, tired state, a curl distorted my lip.

"Get out from under there. Now." Harsh and offering no room for disobedience, the words ended the fight. It was the tone that stopped unruly cubs in their tracks. It was the tone that had grown men straightening up and hammering their mouths shut. It was the tone of the Alpha, and it offered no mercy. Jonathan had stiffened. Lumen had froze, his eyes huge platters that swallowed his face. There was no resistance as he was pulled from beneath the table. "You will lie down and keep still, do you understand me? I am putting this on you. You will not fight me."

And it was that f*****g simple. The kid lay still—much to my Beta's annoyance—and allowed me to put the messed up contraption on him. It took three attempts, having to take it off and try again as I had it on the wrong way, and then having to redo the sticky pads as I had fastened them in the wrong place, but eventually, I managed. Helping the boy to sit, the shirt he wore a victim of his murdered breakfast, he babbled something.

Words, I realised. They were words. Distorted. Obliterated. But words nevertheless.

"Star do," it sounded like.

"Wow, that was so hard, wasn't it, Jonathan?"

"Yes," he mocked back. "Your genius outstands me."

The fit wasn't great. The waist was too tight and the tabs strained, but after securing it with masking tape, it held. Excuses were made: Jonathan claimed that as baby nappies didn't go up to Lumen's size, he'd had to guess with the older kid's range.