"Don't want to be," I murmured back, my lips close to her ear, close enough to catch the scent of vanilla and cinnamon that clung to her skin.
She shivered, and I felt a surge of masculine satisfaction before forcing myself to step back. Professional. I needed to keep it professional. I was the peacekeeper now, not just some lovesick fool mooning over his mate in the middle of the market square.
But damn, it was hard when she looked at me like that, her eyes dark with longing and promise.
The real challenge was keeping my distance when Teddy was around. The kid was weaving through the market crowd, helping Ruby restock her display, his small hands carefully arranging the loaves with serious concentration. Every time I looked at him, my chest tightened.
My cub.
The words echoed in my head constantly now, a drumbeat that matched my pulse. I wanted to tell him. Wanted to pull him aside and explain everything—that I hadn't known, that I would have been there if I had, that I was here now and wasn't going anywhere. That he was mine, and I was his, and nothing would ever change that. But Ruby and I agreed to wait. Just a few more days. To let things settle. To give Teddy a few moments of calm before we turned his world upside down again.
Still, it was torture. Sweet, exquisite torture.
"Uncle Cristox!" Teddy called out, waving with a grin that was so much like Ruby's it hurt. "Mama says you can have a cinnamon roll for free since you're keeping everyone safe!"
"That's generous of her." I accepted the pastry, my fingers brushing Ruby's as she handed it to me. I saw the same longing in her eyes that I felt—the ache of wanting to tell him, to claim him, to make our family official.
"You're doing a good job helping your mom," I told Teddy, crouching down to his level. Up close, I could see so much of myself in him. The shape of his jaw. The way his eyebrows drew together when he concentrated. Even the set of his shoulders.
"I help every market day." He puffed out his chest. "Mama says I'm her best assistant."
"I can tell." I wanted to ruffle his hair, pull him into a hug, and tell him everything. Instead, I stood and took a bite of the cinnamon roll, the sweetness exploding on my tongue.
Ruby's eyes met mine, and I saw the same struggle there—the same war between wanting and waiting. We were doing the right thing. But that didn't make it any easier.
Before either of us could say anything, Mei's son Cuietsu jogged up to the stall, slightly out of breath. Even though he was adopted, I would swear he had Mei's smile.
"Teddy!" he called out, his voice slightly sibilant. "Storytime's starting at the library in ten minutes. Miss Harmon's reading the one about space explorers."
Teddy's eyes lit up. "Mama, can I go? Please?"
Ruby glanced at me, then back at Teddy, her hand moving instinctively to smooth his mane. For a moment, I thought she might say no, keep him close where she could see him, where she could protect him.
"Okay." She smoothed down his mane with gentle strokes. "But you stay with Cuietsu and come straight back when it's over, understand?"
"I will!" Teddy was already bouncing on his toes, practically vibrating with anticipation.
"I'll make sure he gets home," Cuietsu promised, and the two boys took off together, weaving between the market stalls, their laughter trailing behind them.
Ruby watched them go, her hand pressed briefly to her chest, and I saw the fear there—the terror that never quite went away after someone had tried to hurt your child. When she turned back to me, we were alone, or as alone as two people could be in a crowded market square, surrounded by dozens of people who were politely pretending not to notice us.
"This is killing me," I whispered.
"I know." Her voice was barely audible. "Just a few more days. We need to give him time to calm down after everything that's happened." Teddy had been fond of Craig, and his death had caused my cub nightmares.
I nodded, but my jaw clenched. A few more days of pretending that the cub wasn't everything to me. A few more days of being Uncle Cristox instead of Dad.
I was about to respond when Harris Eelan approached, wiping his hands on his apron, leaving dark smudges of grease across the fabric. He ran the settlement's small repair shop, fixing everything from farming equipment to water filtration systems.
"Morning, Peacekeeper." He nodded. "Ruby."
"Harris." Ruby's smile slid into place. "How's business?"
"Can't complain. Though I was expecting Clemon Peters to pick up his irrigation pump today. I’ve had it ready since yesterday." He glanced around the market square. "Haven't seen him yet."
I followed his gaze to the empty space where Clemon's moonshine stand usually sat. The spot was conspicuously vacant. Just a bare patch of dirt where he'd normally have his rickety table set up, bottles of homemade liquor lined up in neat rows.
Ruby frowned. "That's odd. Clemon never misses market day. He's usually one of the first ones here, setting up before dawn."
