DAVE
Clarity and Ash
Hikaru's frost spreads across my chest in patterns that look almost deliberate, tiny claws finding purchase in blessed skin while he burrows deeper against my heartbeat. Five weeks old and he's learned that pressing his face into the hollow of my throat makes me stop whatever I'm doing to hold him properly. The industrial kitchen blueprints I'm reviewing blur into irrelevance as his contentment radiates through our bond—that particular flavor of peace he only finds against my skin.
"You're spoiling him." Kat appears in our bedroom doorway, hazel eyes dark with something between affection and hurt.
"He's five weeks old. Can't spoil infants."
"You can when they refuse to settle for anyone else." She crosses to us anyway, fingers finding Hikaru's white fur with gent
