“Cassian?” Pop repeats. “I’m Daniel. William is our pack alpha. I know he wants to speak with you, but he’s comforting our omega right now.”
“Understandable,” Cass says calmly, but I can feel an irritated edge move through our bond. I’m not sure how, but I know in my heart that it’s directed squarely at my mother and the way she reacted.
The realization sends a quiet spark of satisfaction through me, warmth settling low in my chest. It feels weirdly vindicating.
I lean more fully into him, smiling to myself.
“How many are in your pack?” Pop asks.
“There are four of us,” Cass says. “Five with Tansy. Three alphas and one beta.” Cass’s chest puffs out with pride. “We were an established packbeforewe claimed your daughter.”
Pop is quiet for a moment. When he speaks again, his voice is firm, careful, threaded with restraint. “I appreciate you allowing Tansy to call us,” Pop says. “And I hear the pride in your voice when talking about your pack. That matters to me.” He clears his throat softly. “I understand that you’re her pack alpha now, and I respect that. I’m not here to make demands. But I want to see my daughter.”
My chest tightens at his words.
“So,” Pop continues, tone steady, almost formal, “tell me when we can see her. I’d like to look her in the eye and know she’s alright.”
“Of course,” Cass replies. “You’re welcome to come to our house, or we’d be happy to come to you.”
“I’d prefer to see your home,” Pop says. “I want to see how my daughter is living. I want to make sure she’s safe and being taken care of.”
“Tell us when.”
The relief is immediate. I hear it in the way Pop’s breath leaves him, the tension draining out of his voice like he has been holding it in for far too long. “Thank you, Cassian,” he says, and I can tell he means it. “William will call you back so we can arrange everything properly.” His tone softens then, losing that careful edge as it turns back to me. “Tansy,” he says gently. “I love you.”
My throat tightens. “I love you too,” I say, my voice quiet but steady.
“We’ll talk soon.”
Then the line clicks, and the call ends.
The quiet that follows feels heavy, like the air after a storm finally passes. My eyes close as the adrenaline drains out of me.
I sag against Cass, every muscle in my body suddenly aware of how tired I am. It feels like I just ran a marathon without stopping. My chest is tight, my limbs heavy, and my head is buzzing in that dull, hollow way that comes after a really hard cry.
Cass’s arms tighten around me immediately, firm and sure, holding me tight. He shifts me closer, my cheek pressing into his shoulder as he tucks my head under his chin. I breathe him in, pushing my nose against the column of his throat.
His scent erupts around me. Smoked amber, leather, and dark cedar.
“Easy,” Cass murmurs, low and close to my ear. “It’s okay, Tansy. I’ve got you.”
I nod weakly, exhaustion settling deep in my bones. Cass’s hands move, holding me so I’m cradled against his body. Then he lowers his head, his mouth brushing the sensitive skin at the edge of my mating bite. He nips,controlled, nothing sharp or claiming, just enough pressure to make my body respond.
A shiver runs through me, tension bleeding out of my shoulders as my breathing slows.
His mouth lingers there, soothing, grounding, his scent wrapping around me until the noise in my head fades.
The Greenhouse
Grason
“What are these?”Tansy touches the slowly budding leaves of a potted plant. She’s been asking all kinds of questions since we got to the greenhouse, clearly trying to keep her mind off the fact that her parents will be here within the hour.
“Dandelions,” I say. “They’re good for the bees.” I motion to the little pots around us. “I try to plant flowers that they can enjoy all season long.”
“And they sleep during the winter?” she asks, looking over at the beehives.
They’re simple wooden boxes, weathered but clean, stacked two deep with flat lids weighted down by smooth stones. Each one has a narrow opening near the bottom, where bees come and go in a steady, purposeful flow. A few of them crawl along the fronts now, legs dusted yellow with pollen, completely unbothered by us standing here.
