Rhyder's POV.
I put Tate in bed and as I was pulling the covers over him, he turned his head toward me and opened his eyes slightly.
"Daddy?"
His voice was raspy with sleep.
I ruffled my fingers through his hair, enjoying the silky soft feeling. I breathed in his scent, closing my eyes to imprint it better.
Tate smelled like early morning dew on grass, warm sunshine, dirt, and fresh summer berries.
"Yes, Tate?"
"Did you catch the bad lady?"
I let out a long sigh.
"Not tonight."
His eyes opened a little wider.
I bent down next to his bed.
"But we will, Tate. You don't have to worry about her. And you don't have to be scared of her."
He began to drift again, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward slightly.
"I know that, daddy. I'm not. Know why?"
I smiled at him.
"Why?"
