Chapter 156
I cased onto the edge of my bed with a weary sigh, body and mind equally exhausted from the day’s events. My fingertips absently traced the spot on my breast where Tristan’s bite mark had been, now completely healed. Even so, the memory of his teeth against my skin remained unnervingly vivid.
“Why did you keep the twins from me?”
His question haunted me.
The soft knock at my bedroom door startled me from my thoughts.
“Mommy?” Two small voices called in unison.
I quickly pulled my robe tighter, making sure the area where the bite had been was completely covered. “Come in, my little
moonbeams.”
The door cracked open, and two pajama–clad figures slipped inside. Orion entered first, his eyes scanning the room before he deemed it safe for his sister to follow. Lyra clutched her favorite plush wolf under one arm, its fur worn thin from years
of cuddles.
“Can we sleep with you tonight?” Lyra asked, already climbing onto the bed without waiting for my answer.
Orion hung back, trying to maintain his dignity. “Lyra had a bad dream,” he explained, as though he was merely accompanying his sister out of duty rather than seeking comfort himself.
I patted the space beside me, and Orion finally relented, crawling under the covers.
“What did you dream about, sweetie?” I asked Lyra, stroking her chestnut curls away from her forehead.
Lyra hesitated, cuddling her wolf closer to her chest. “I dreamed you were yelling at me,” she whispered. “Like when that man was here and you got really mad.” Her lower lip trembled slightly. “You scared me, Mommy.”
Guilt washed over me. I’d reacted so strongly when Tristan approached Lyra, terrified of what he might say or do. In the process, I’d frightened my own daughter.
“I’m sorry, baby,” I murmured, kissing the top of her head. “Mommy shouldn’t have raised her voice like that.”
“You only yelled because of that bad man,” Orion interjected, his expression serious beyond his years.
Lyra frowned at her brother. “He’s not a bad man! He’s the ice cream hero!” She turned to me with wide, earnest eyes. “His eyes are just like Orion’s, Mommy. So blue!/And he has the same smile when he’s thinking.”
I stiffened, unprepared for her observation. Children saw things adults missed, perceived connections that we tried to
hide.
“Why do you both keep talking about him?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.
Orion shrugged. “He was weird. He asked if Uncle Kieran was going to be our dad.”
My heart skipped a beat. “He asked what?”
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“He told me Uncle Kieran was going to marry you,” Orion continued. “But I know you’d tell us first If that was true. liis eyes searched mine, secking reassurance.
Lyra rolled onto her stomach, chin propped on her hands. “Can the ice cream uncle be our daddy instead? He looks like prince from my storybook.”
“No!” Orion’s vehemence startled both of us. “I want Kieran to be our dad. He plays with us and takes us to school and doesn’t make Mommy sad.”
“But ice cream uncle could buy us lots of ice cream,” Lyra countered reasonably. “Isn’t that what daddies do? Buy things?,
I couldn’t help but smile at her logic. “Sweetheart, daddies do much more than buy ice cream.”
“Then what do daddies do?” Lyra’s genuine curiosity tugged at my heart.
Orion straightened up, clearly proud to know something his sister didn’t. “Sam says daddies protect their families. They keep everyone safe and make the scary things go away.”
Lyra sighed dramatically. “But our daddy went to a place very far away. You told us, remember, Mommy?” She looked at me with those innocent green eyes. “If daddies are supposed to protect us, why did ours leave?”
The innocent question hung in the air, heavy with implications. I took a deep breath, searching for words that would satisfy their curiosity without revealing truths they weren’t ready to hear.
“You remember what I told you before,” I began carefully. “Your father had to go far away. Sometimes…” I paused, uncertain how to continue without contradicting my previous story. “Even when people love each other, they can’t always be together.”
Lyra’s eyes widened. “But why can’t he visit? Is it because he’s where the moon touches the earth?” Lyra asked, recalling the story I’d told her years ago. “That’s really, really far.”
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yes, baby. That’s very far away.”
“Did he do something bad?” Orion asked bluntly. “Is that why we never talk about him?”
The hurt was evident in his voice despite never having known the father who’d rejected him.
I reached out to smooth Orion’s dark hair, so similar to his father’s. “No, sweetheart. Your father didn’t do anything bad.”
The lie tasted bitter on my tongue. “Sometimes… people just aren’t ready to be parents. They get scared.”
Lyra yawned widely, snuggling closer to me. “If our daddy comes back someday, do you think he’d like me?”
My heart clenched painfully. “Oh, moonbeam. He’d love you. How could anyone not love you?”
“He’d love you both,” I added, pulling Orion closer too. “So, so much.”
Despite the heaviness of our conversation, their bickering brought a smile to my face. “Alright, you two, that’s enough. It’s late.”
They settled down, and I began the story of a lone wolf who lost his pack but eventually found his way home. It was their favorite bedtime tale, one I’d crafted during those lonely nights when they were infants and I’d cried silently, wondering if I’d made the right choice in leaving Silverblood Pack.
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Halfway through the story, Lyra’s eyelids began to droop. “The ice cream uncle’s eyes turned red sometimes,‘ she murmured sleepily. “Just like the wolf in the story.”
I froze mid–sentence. “What did you say, sweetheart?”
“Saw it, she mumbled, already half–asleep. “When he talked to Orion… his eyes got all red… but I wasn’t scared…”
I looked at Orion for confirmation, but he was fighting his own battle with sleep. “Still don’t like him,” he mumbled. “But if he’s really sorry… maybe…”
Within minutes, both children were fast asleep, their peaceful faces illuminated by the moonlight streaming through my window. I studied them intently, seeing traces of Tristan in both their features–Orion’s strong jawline and determined expression, Lyra’s mischievous smile and confident bearing.
How had they sensed the connection? Was it some primal wolf instinct, recognizing blood even without conscious knowledge? And what would happen if they ever discovered the truth?
“They need to know the truth,” I whispered to the silent room, “but I don’t know how to begin.”
For now, at least, I could protect them from that knowledge–from the painful truth that their father had rejected them before they were even born.
Or had he?
What if there was something I didn’t know? Something that would change everything?
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