MALCOLM
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I watch Gwen tuck her son into bed. The territorial part of me is irked she'd birthed another man's child.
Leaning against the door frame, I observe them. I'd tried to scent out what species the boy was, but I knew I wouldn't have much luck. He is still young. My gaze slides over Gwen and it grows hooded. Her eyes are soft, her voice gentle and sweet as she whispers words to Rylan's drowsy form.
"He won't remember half of that tomorrow."
Her eyes snap up. "Malcolm..." she says, momentarily shocked, before she regains her composure. "He doesn't need to remember that I love him," she says.
"Is that what you've been filling his ears with?"
Her chin goes up defensively. "Yes. Didn't you have someone filling your ears with those too when you were younger?"
For a moment I'm r
