Would they always look at her like that? Would she slip up again with others? Gods, she hoped not.
Feeling hopelessly out of place, Camille grabbed her shoes with one hand and padded over to the large window that overlooked their wild backyard. It wouldn’t be hard to pop out the screen and slip out. She could text Viktor as soon as she left the territory and ask him to let her know when the children had gone.
In the meantime, she could take the m-lev downtown and maybe meet Linnea for lunch. Perhaps she’d have some tips on how to reverse the damage she’d done to the poor babies.
Camille paused, reconsidering that plan. The last time she visited her friend and came back to the pack’s territory, Benny wouldn’t stop asking where she got “that great new perfume”. Seeing as Camille was relatively certain he was picking up on her friend’s natural vanilla and spice scent, she stalwartly refused to tell him. There was no way she was sending someone like Benny sniffing around her sweet, naive friend.
But he was a shifter, so of course he pressed. They did love a game, after all. Too bad she was more stubborn than he was. He annoyed her so much that she ended up pushing him off the tiny dock by their house and into the lake. That ended the conversation well enough.
Maybe I’ll see if Margot has time for lunch instead.
She was prying open the window when the sound of the bedroom door opening made her jump.
“What are you doing?”
Camille snapped her head towards the door, her eyes wide. “Ah…”
Viktor stood in the doorway. His arms were crossed, his feet spread, and his eyes narrowed on her frozen form. “Donottell me you were trying to sneak out of our den, Cam.”
She glanced at the shoes dangling from her hand. “...Okay, I won’t.”
He followed her gaze. A look of intense exasperation crossed his expressive face when he exclaimed, “For fuck’s sake, sweetheart,everyonestartles cubs sometimes. They’refine.”
Camille fidgeted with her shoes and refused to meet his gaze. “You didn’t see the way they looked at me when I…” She swallowed hard. “They think I’m a monster, Vik.”
His footsteps were little more than whispers over the bamboo floor. Warm hands skated down her upper arms. “They don’t think you’re a monster, Cam, I promise. Come have breakfast with us. I promise that if you give them ten minutes, they’ll be crawling all over you like a jungle gym.”
She shot a look at the window. “Or I could leave for the morning and—”
“Nope. You’re helping us make pancakes.” Viktor plucked her heels out of her hands and tossed them onto the floor. Ignoring her squawk of outrage, he grabbed her by the shoulders, spun her around, and began marching her toward the kitchen.
Speaking under her breath, she protested, “I don’t even eat pancakes! And if they’re uncomfortable, they won’t either! Hey! Donotpush me, mutt!”
“You can have your own breakfast, but youwillhelp me make pancakes,” he commanded, steering her down the hall and into the open living area. “Pack doesn’t run when they make a mistake. Pack stays to fix it, Cam. That’s how we build trust.”
“Easy for you to say! You grew up in a pack, remember? They trust you automatically. They looked like they were afraid I’d suck the marrow out of their bones.”
“And you’re a part of this pack now. You have to learn how to handle these things. I’m not going to let this shake your confidence.” He paused to chuckle. “That’s a good threat, though. Maybe we should use it when they misbehave?”
Camille seethed. “Don’t youdare.”
Laughing, he gave her shoulders a squeeze and steered her out of the hallway. The kitchen was to their right. Camille dug in her bare heels, but Viktor kept pushing her until they stood by the corner of the kitchen island.
The children were sitting on the floor by the kitchen table, two synthetic bowls of apple slices and sippy cups of what looked like water within reaching distance. At some point since she saw them last, Thomas had shifted and Fiona had lost her jaunty headband and her sandals. Johnnie was nowhere to be seen, so she assumed he had run off to school.
The toddlers were talking merrily, as if they hadn’t just suffered a terror-induced meltdown. They were exchanging mostly coherent words and unintelligible coyote yips until the adults stepped into their line of sight.
Instantly, both children froze. Fiona stared up at Camille with wide eyes, one bruised apple slice in each fist, and Thomas halted his attempts to leap onto the kitchen table. His ears flattened and his tail lowered as he glanced between his alpha and the elvish interloper.
Was there anything more awful than children being afraid of you? She had never frightened an elvish child in her life. They understood instinctively that she would never harm them. It made her feel sick to her stomach to see the uncertainty in their eyes, the way Fiona’s lower lip began to wobble at just the sight of her.
Camille wilted and tried to shrink backward.
“No, no.” Viktor stopped her with a firm hand on the back of her neck. “I know you know how to win cubs over, Cam. Don’t be a chicken.”
“I am not a chicken,” she tartly denied.
Fiona squeezed one of her apple slices and, in a thoughtful voice, informed her alpha, “Chickens not purple.”
