Of course Ember knew the word. Her friend the vampire used it in front of her. Aaron should have connected those dots before. He stood. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
Ember unfolded herself from the depths of the chair and followed him. Single file down the hallway, his senses took note of her every breath, her soft footfalls, the general sense of where her body was and how it took up space. He always knew these things about any person or animal within his sensory range, but his awareness of Ember was somehow more than simple fact.
He opened the last door on the left and stepped aside for her to enter. “And yeah, you’re welcome to look around my place. Quinn knows the property lines.”
“Meaning, don’t stray onto someone else’s territory without being invited.”
“In your case I would not advise it.”
Ember turned a slow circle in the room. Pale gray walls, darker gray carpet, blue-and-white plaid bedspread. The dresser and nightstand were varnished pine. Trevor had made them, so the quality was good. Yet…
“It’s basic,” Aaron said. He never should have told Trevor to leave off the carved adornments that were his specialty.
“It’s perfectly fine. But you didn’t answer my question.”
“Community.” He shrugged, but her brow puckered, and confusion trickled into her scent. Looked like he’d be explaining a lot in the next ten days. “A wolf doesn’t build a house, furnish a house, only to meet his own needs. He thinks about the pack too. Somebody might need a bed some night.”
“Somebody like a thirteen-year-old kid who’s lost his family.”
He smiled. “Spot on.”
“Why you, Aaron? How did you end up with my nephew on your hands?”
He had volunteered. But he might not want Ember to know that yet, and he couldn’t tell her why. Malachi’s voice echoed back to him from the day before Quinn arrived, the day Aaron had made his case for guardianship. That had been one intense conversation.
“I know you can raise a pup with the knowledge and security he needs. But can you raise him with pride in what we are, what he is?”
He’d given Malachi the respect of considering the question a few minutes, quiet until he knew the answer.“Whatever else I’ve still got in me, I’m proud to be pack.”
For Mal, it had been enough.
“We don’t get a lot of pups from the outside,” he said to Ember. Her half-squint signaled she hadn’t missed his dodge. He tried again. “When we do it depends on a lot of factors, including who’s prepared to take the responsibility. I was able and willing when Quinn came.”
“Will he live with you until he’s eighteen?”
“If he wants to.”
“Not driving you crazy yet?” She smiled.
“Quinn’s a good kid, Ms. Grant. Growing up fast to be a good man.” And Aaron would do whatever he could to support him, to keep him from regrets that were out of his control.
She stepped up close and set her hand on his arm. It was small and cool and light, like the landing of a butterfly on his skin. She looked into his eyes, this time not with intrigued scrutiny but with apology and maybe…respect.
“I think I owe you more gratitude than I can know right now,” she said quietly. “So thank you.”
He nodded.
Her hand drew away, and a soft tease lit her eyes. “And you’ve already called me Ember, so you might as well continue.”
She stepped into the hallway and, halfway to the living room, called, “Quinn, ready for my tour?”
Aaron stood still and tried to remember when he’d used her first name.
Quinn’s work boots were three sizes too big for her, but Ember didn’t want to tramp around the rural outdoors in ballet flats or running shoes, the only options she’d brought. She packed the toes of the boots with Kleenex and still had ample room to wiggle her feet but not enough room for blisters.
“All right,” she said, “I got the laces cinched as tight as humanly possible.”
Quinn darted across the foyer to crouch in front of her. “Guess who can get themtighterthan humanly possible?”
