of the PsyNet. “But,” she continued, “this is a creative endeavor with order—recipes have set ingredients, and while experimentation is permitted and encouraged, results are easy to judge. It calms me, makes me happy.”
“Lucky for me and Keenan.” And the occasional packmate who sniffed out the menu. Funny how often that happened.
Taking a second cookie, he kissed her cheek and stepped away to lean on the counter beside Keenan’s seated form. “Your cookies are even better than Tamsyn’s,” he said, naming the pack’s healer.
“Charmer.” A delighted smile. “Wait until you see what I made while you two were watching cartoons.”
Both he and Keenan waited curiously as she slid up the cover of the storage space on one end of the counter, and pulled out a tray holding a multi-hued array of cupcakes. Picking up two, she gave them one each, along with a kiss on the cheek for Keenan and the same for Dorian. “For my strong, capable men.”
Dorian was about to tug her into a much more adult kiss when a familiar face appeared in the rectangle of light that was the open back door. “Do I smell cookies?” Kit sauntered in, eyes fixed on the baking.
Ashaya pointed a finger at the muscled young male, halting him in his tracks. “One cookie, one cupcake.”
“I’ll take it.” Grabbing the items, he reached over to ruffle Keenan’s hair, his own dark auburn strands wind-tousled. “Hey, little man. Why’s your mama hoarding the cookies?”
“They’re for the pack’s Christmas party tomorrow,” Ashaya told him, her stern expression belied by the affection in her eyes. “I’m starting to understand why Tammy told me to bake twice what I intended to bring along.”
Hitching himself up on the counter attached to the sink, Kit finished off the cupcake in two bites. Not that long ago, Dorian had literally thrown the novice soldier out of a bar, Kit had been so drunk. Before that, Dorian and another sentinel had busted up a fight in which Kit had bloodied a packmate. But the youth had grown in many ways in the intervening time and was now one of the steadiest young soldiers in the pack, his strength not just in his body, but in his will and his loyalty.
“I like your hobby,” Kit said to Ashaya now, biting into the cookie and trying out a slow smile Dorian knew full well had coaxed more than one girl to follow him into the trees. “This cookie is amazing.”
“Forget it,” Ashaya said with a laugh. “I live with a cat, remember? I know all about sneaky charm.”
Looking disgruntled, Kit scowled at Dorian. “Way to ruin it for the rest of us.”
“Find your own woman, kitten.”
Keenan laughed, sweet and mischievous at Kit’s growl, a drop of icing stuck on his nose. Wrapping his arm around the boy’s neck, Dorian was about to pretend to steal Keenan’s half-eaten cupcake when he caught several familiar scents, followed by the sound of little feet running on the fallen pine-needles outside.
Releasing Keenan to grab Noor in his arms as she raced into the house, her pigtails bound up with bright orange ribbons, he smacked a kiss on the little girl’s cheek before perching her next to Keenan on the counter. His son’s best friend beamed, her beautiful dark eyes open and without guile.
“You want some?” Keenan asked, offering Noor a bite of his cupcake.
Nodding, she bit in, getting crumbs on the denim overalls she wore over a pretty blue sweater. “Yummy.” When Shaya passed her a purple frosted cupcake, she said a happy, “Thank you,” and turning immediately to Keenan, offered it to him for a bite. “Your one was green. This one will taste different.”
“Do you think so?” Keenan asked, and at Noor’s nod, took a bite. “It’s like grapes!”
Dorian met Ashaya’s gaze over the two little heads, and he knew she was thinking the same thing he was: That it was good to see the children, extraordinary and unique, act exactly like the babies they were. It was the pack’s
“Lucky for me and Keenan.” And the occasional packmate who sniffed out the menu. Funny how often that happened.
Taking a second cookie, he kissed her cheek and stepped away to lean on the counter beside Keenan’s seated form. “Your cookies are even better than Tamsyn’s,” he said, naming the pack’s healer.
“Charmer.” A delighted smile. “Wait until you see what I made while you two were watching cartoons.”
Both he and Keenan waited curiously as she slid up the cover of the storage space on one end of the counter, and pulled out a tray holding a multi-hued array of cupcakes. Picking up two, she gave them one each, along with a kiss on the cheek for Keenan and the same for Dorian. “For my strong, capable men.”
Dorian was about to tug her into a much more adult kiss when a familiar face appeared in the rectangle of light that was the open back door. “Do I smell cookies?” Kit sauntered in, eyes fixed on the baking.
Ashaya pointed a finger at the muscled young male, halting him in his tracks. “One cookie, one cupcake.”
“I’ll take it.” Grabbing the items, he reached over to ruffle Keenan’s hair, his own dark auburn strands wind-tousled. “Hey, little man. Why’s your mama hoarding the cookies?”
“They’re for the pack’s Christmas party tomorrow,” Ashaya told him, her stern expression belied by the affection in her eyes. “I’m starting to understand why Tammy told me to bake twice what I intended to bring along.”
Hitching himself up on the counter attached to the sink, Kit finished off the cupcake in two bites. Not that long ago, Dorian had literally thrown the novice soldier out of a bar, Kit had been so drunk. Before that, Dorian and another sentinel had busted up a fight in which Kit had bloodied a packmate. But the youth had grown in many ways in the intervening time and was now one of the steadiest young soldiers in the pack, his strength not just in his body, but in his will and his loyalty.
“I like your hobby,” Kit said to Ashaya now, biting into the cookie and trying out a slow smile Dorian knew full well had coaxed more than one girl to follow him into the trees. “This cookie is amazing.”
“Forget it,” Ashaya said with a laugh. “I live with a cat, remember? I know all about sneaky charm.”
Looking disgruntled, Kit scowled at Dorian. “Way to ruin it for the rest of us.”
“Find your own woman, kitten.”
Keenan laughed, sweet and mischievous at Kit’s growl, a drop of icing stuck on his nose. Wrapping his arm around the boy’s neck, Dorian was about to pretend to steal Keenan’s half-eaten cupcake when he caught several familiar scents, followed by the sound of little feet running on the fallen pine-needles outside.
Releasing Keenan to grab Noor in his arms as she raced into the house, her pigtails bound up with bright orange ribbons, he smacked a kiss on the little girl’s cheek before perching her next to Keenan on the counter. His son’s best friend beamed, her beautiful dark eyes open and without guile.
“You want some?” Keenan asked, offering Noor a bite of his cupcake.
Nodding, she bit in, getting crumbs on the denim overalls she wore over a pretty blue sweater. “Yummy.” When Shaya passed her a purple frosted cupcake, she said a happy, “Thank you,” and turning immediately to Keenan, offered it to him for a bite. “Your one was green. This one will taste different.”
“Do you think so?” Keenan asked, and at Noor’s nod, took a bite. “It’s like grapes!”
Dorian met Ashaya’s gaze over the two little heads, and he knew she was thinking the same thing he was: That it was good to see the children, extraordinary and unique, act exactly like the babies they were. It was the pack’s
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