“I don’t like Junior much. Seems like he should be a wheelerdealer on Wall Street, not out here in the country.” Seth lifted Dustin’s arm and slid beneath, staring deep into Dustin’s eyes. “Help me stop him?”
More than mere passel loyalty prompted the reply: “I’ll do whatever I can.” Dustin kissed Seth, soaking up the tranquility before it came to an end. Sooner or later, they’d have to return to town, face their problems again. But for now, maybe one more round….
“NO! OUTof the question. Absolutely not.” Seth shook his head. He
couldn’t believe Monica would actually suggest such a hare-brained scheme.
“It’s a way to solve the issue of the challenge without a single drop of blood being spilled.” Monica’s unasked-for dinner guest said. Tall, sporting a tail of flaxen hair, the guy’s otherworldliness raised Seth’s hackles. The town veterinarian seemed nice enough, but Seth’s inner possum spat and hissed, hell-bent and determined to intimidate the Reynard’s fox alter ego.
“Stop it!” Monica snapped. “Andy’s here to help us; he’s not a threat.”
“No, I’m not,” Andy agreed. “I’m fighting for my people as hard as you’re fighting for yours. I don’t understand what you have against the plan. A coyote shifter friend of mine agreed to help. He shows up, growls a little, you run him off, you’re a hero.”
“I can’t wait to watch Junior tuck tail and run.” Monica’s nefarious grin scared the living daylights out of Seth. He was glad her scheming wasn’t directed at him.
He had to agree the Reynard’s plan sounded viable; however, he didn’t want to win by trickery and be forevermore goaded by a guilty conscience, doubting his ability to lead. No, he had to play fair and win honestly. “While I appreciate what you’re trying to do, I can’t allow it,” he finally said, wiping the grins off his would-be coconspirators’ faces. “I’ll face Junior head-on, and may the best man, I mean, possum, win.”
Later in the evening, reevaluating the wisdom of his decision, Seth realized that, in all his life, not only did this mark the first important decision he’d ever fully made on his own, but he’d actually stood up to two people who he’d have been cowering from a few months ago. Even more surprising, he didn’t doubt for a minute he’d made the right choice.
“DIDyou mention your friend, the coyote shifter?” Dustin asked, holding his breath for the answer.
“Yeah.” Andy grinned like a kid opening presents on Christmas day. “The man turned it down flat.”
Dustin let out a shaky breath, relief washing through him. “Good, ’cause if he’d stoop to sneaky tricks, no matter what my personal feelings for him, or Irene, might be, I wouldn’t back Seth to head the passel.”
SETHdidn’t ask Monica where they were going, she wouldn’t answer anyway if she didn’t want to, though he hoped Southern pit barbeque waited at the end. He’d learned her by now; she might be gruff, but hid a good heart beneath her porcupine quills. However, when she pulled her truck into the parking lot of the Athens Fertility Clinic, his hackles rose.
She turned off the ignition, huffing out a breath. Fear and uncertainty pulsed from her.
“Is something wrong?”
“No. We’re here as a precaution.”
“A precaution against what?” Seth swallowed hard, heart dropping to his stomach.
“You are, without a doubt, the last member of Irene’s family. If anything happens to you, your family ends.” She glanced up, her skyblue gaze holding the promise of rain. “I loved Irene. She took me in when my family kicked me out, gave me a home, and convinced me I wasn’t a mutant. I want some part of her to go on. We have an appointment in there,” she said as she nodded toward the building, “in fifteen minutes.”
“What is this place?”
“The best fertility clinic in the South.” She held up a hand, possibly expecting objections. “Tomorrow night is the full moon. You can say no and we’ll leave now, forget I mentioned it; but I’d like you to go in with me, let them harvest your sperm.” Until then, he’d no idea Monica possessed the ability to be shy. She stared down at the floorboard. “If anything happens to you, or if someone challenges your leadership on the grounds that you can’t produce an heir, I’d like permission to carry your child, keep the McDaniel name alive.”
For perhaps the first time in his life, Seth was struck speechless. After a few moments to organize his scattered thoughts, he blurted, “Why? You don’t even like me.”
Monica shrugged. “You’re not too bad, for a city boy. You just needed me to kick your ass into shape. I’d be lying if I said I was doing this totally for you, ’cause I’ll be giving up the ability to turn for nine months, as well as any position in the passel I might hold at the time. I’m doing it for Irene, for myself, and for Dustin, in the event you manage to build something permanent with him.” She managed a brief flicker of a smile.
Seth cringed, imagining some of the more nightmarish examples of childhood he’d photographed. The images morphed into the sweet face of his own future child, freckles running across a too big nose. Once more, he recalled his fantasy: big house, porch swing, a partner and kids. Did he dare hope to make the dream come true?
Wait a minute! “While I wouldn’t mind a son or a daughter, I don’t think I’m ready for triplets. That’s not a passel trait, is it?”
“Sometimes.” Seth swore his heart stopped, only starting again when Monica added, “But not in our families or McDaniels wouldn’t be so scarce. Multiple births happen mostly when the virus goes back for generations in both lines, like the Johnsons. To avoid power struggles within the passel, McDaniels usually found their mates elsewhere, and some married nonshifters who later turned. My mom wasn’t passel either, so chances are we’d have a single birth if we left things up to nature. However, with a fertility clinic, we stand the same chance as any other couple who comes here.”
Oh. What would his parents think? His aunt? His friends back in Chicago?What friends? Have any called you since you’ve been here besides Michael?his conscience asked.Good point, he silently replied. He had to ask, “Did you mention this to Dustin?”
“Do I need to?”
“Maybe later, not right now.” He considered a few more minutes. Deciding he’d rather be safe than sorry, he answered her question by getting out of the truck and marching toward the clinic’s entrance, hoping Monica’s fears didn’t prove true.
Only after they arrived back at the farmhouse did she say, “Thanks, Seth. No matter what happens, if I ever need to take a trip back to the clinic, I promise you I’ll be a good mother.”
