“That’s not the same. Not family,” Danon said.
“But I’ve been fine. I’m content with my life. Well, not with my son, but everything else is going well.”
I watched Danon’s expression change, his eyes soften. I knew his tells. He was thinking fast but not letting me in on everything. Once I asked him about his behavior to pause, to look like he was pondering deep thoughts. He was honest and told me he changed tactics when he thought a client was avoiding real feelings. He wanted them to come to their own conclusions at their own pace.
“Now you’re responsible for a set omega. For his well-being. Hell, for his entire life. What is that like?”
“I told you. A business arrangement.” I could deal well with that.
“But he’s a person, too. His needs are more than business. They’re not just about contract and law and commodities.”
Rubbing my forehead seemed to help my clarity. Everything he said was right. “I know.”
“This responsibility is different from Malin. Your son’s an adult. Autonomous. Kirion will never be free. Not by our laws.”
“I know.”
“You’ll be spending your lives together. What about the future?”
The future? I hadn’t thought of that. I couldn’t move my mind that far ahead. I’d learned in those early years of my grief to take everything one day at a time. In business, the future was always in flux. I hired experts to help with predictions. That was analytics. Black and white. Easy to comprehend.
I pictured Kirion standing in my garden amazed that I’d created it. He hadn’t expected that. I was a process to him untilthat moment, as he was to me. Something bought, something owned. To a purpose.
What sort of future could I think about from that for myself? I’d convinced my brain about grandchildren. But that was not going to happen.
I blinked up at Danon. “I wanted the house to be filled with love again. Grandchildren. That’s what I was thinking even though I had to know somewhere in my mind that Malin wouldn’t go for it. Malin defies anything I say for the sake of defiance.”
What did Danon think he knew by making me bring up that? That I’d gone to bid on Kirion for myself? Not true!
“Grandchildren. What a nice idea.” He spoke low, taking a sip of his drink.
I didn’t reply. It seemed so simple now. What he was thinking and my behavior lined up. I fought the notion for a few more seconds that maybe I wanted someone else in the house—an omega—for myself. Something inside my chest began to ache.
“You have a responsibility for something other than business dealings. That probably makes the alpha in you pretty happy.?”
It was not a question but a suggestion. Again, his tactics were designed to make me think about everything at my pace.
“It has been making me a little hyper, yes. I have a need to keep him safe. Taken care of.”
Danon nodded as if he knew I’d say that. “And does your dragon have any feelings?”
He knew Tanekan, my dragon, didn’t speak since the severing of my bond at Rupert’s death. But he had emotions that bled through when I shifted and we flew. I felt everything he felt. Including his unique dragon grief for many years. Now we had a silent understanding, a pact of mutual, peaceful existence. But I had missed his voice in my head, always excited about new things, these past years.
“He has no problem with Kirion. He shares my responsibility.”
“But is there emotion? Does he speak yet?”
“No talking. Not a lot of emotion. He likes him or I’d feel repulsion. I know that much.”
“The urge for an alpha to care for an omega, especially one that is helpless, is a major event for both human and beast. Sometimes there are hormonal changes. It can be both pleasant and disruptive.”
I gulped. “Hormonal?”
“Yes. Very much so.”
“All right, so what are you saying?”
“You called me, remember? You wanted to talk about this.”
