Danica
DanicaMy daughter is restless for her fathers. I sense her thinking of them, because I get little flashes she sends to me of their voices. Each time, a sharp pang twists in my heart. How will I ever tell her that she can’t have them, know them…and it’s my fault?
I soothe her by nursing and soon she falls asleep, a little curl of golden hair falling across her soft, pale purple face. Her long lashes flutter on her cheeks, and with her claws retracted, her tiny fingers are so sweet and perfect, although right now she has them fisted up by her head. She smells like fresh grass. I kiss her head. Mine.
Mine.A rustle at the door has me looking up from my cot, and I gasp, because there they are: my mates. Benn. Gorde. Wearing their mission gear, stinking of sweat and adrenaline, faces l
