that screamed lie.
Done playing games, Pierre pushed at the door, wrenching it inward and snapping the chain. A sharp cry escaped from Mina’s lips as she went stumbling back, the scent of her fear flooding the small place. Pierre stepped into her apartment as she whirled and gathered a small child to her. A child with cocoa-colored skin.
Heart racing, his head spinning, Pierre softly shut the door before swallowing and speaking. “What’s his name?”
“None of your business,” she bravely stated, even though he could see every inch of her quivering with anxiety.
Anger intermixed with anguish made Pierre’s voice tight. “I’d say the fact he’s my grandson makes him my business.”
At least she didn’t deny it any further. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “Please, you can’t take him from me. He’s all I have.”
“I would never do that!” Indignation made his words emerge sharply, and she flinched. “I’m sorry. That’s not why I’m here.”
“Then why are you here? What do you want with me? With my son?”
“I . . . ” For once, words escaped Pierre. He’d expected to find a male Lycan, one who’d perhaps run away or who didn’t know of his special place in the Lycan community. He’d never suspected he’d run into Mina, Remy’s lost mate, and he definitely never expected to find a child, one who reminded him so much of Remy, but with bright blue orbs. “Please. I didn’t come here to harm you or my grandson. I didn’t even know he existed.”
“And now that you know?”
Pierre swallowed hard, blinking back tears that didn’t belong to a man his age. “I’d like to meet him if you don’t mind.”
A flurry of emotions played out across her expressive visage: wariness, fear, hope, resignation. Biting her lip, she angled herself so that the child on her hip became more visible. “Jacques, say hello.”
The child, with his head covered in tousled brown curls, regarded him warily from his spot on his mother’s shoulder. A thumb pulled out with a wet pop before the child spoke. “Hi.”
Throat tight and eyes prickling, Pierre couldn’t help himself. He reached out a hand to stroke the rounded cheek of his grandson . . . and almost lost a finger.
He snatched his hand quickly back when Jacques snapped at it with his teeth, his little body suddenly rigid with tension.
“Jacques!” Mina cried. “No!”
Seeing the boy’s glowing eyes and sullen expression, Pierre’s cop brain put the pieces together. “It wasn’t you seeing the doctor, was it? You were having Jacques tested.”
A shutter went down over her face, blanking her expression, and her eyes grew wary. “How do you know about that?”
“We have people working at most of the medical labs keeping an eye out for our kind.”
She took a step back, her arms clutching her son tightly enough to make him squeak. “Your kind ? Just who and what are you?”
“I am a Lycan.”
Puzzlement creased her features. “What’s a Lycan?”
“I have the ability to shift my shape into that of a wolf.”
She regarded him for a moment before she burst out laughing, the strident mirth softening the tension in her face even if it was at his expense. “That’s insane.”
“Really?” Pierre queried, not surprised by her reaction. To the unknowing, his claim did seem crazy. “Let me ask you, have you noticed how your son’s eyes seem to glow? How his teeth seem sharper than other children’s, his temper more volatile? Does he keep you up the nights of the full moon? Does he—”
Mouth round in an O of shock, she held up a hand as if to halt his words, and he stopped. She stumbled backward and sank onto a couch covered in a blanket that he suspected hid holes. She ran a soothing hand down her son’s back as the gears in her mind turned. Pierre waited for her inevitable question.
“Was Remy a werewolf?”
“A Lycan like me? Yes.”
Absently, she rubbed at her neck, and his keen eyes spotted the crescent-shaped
Done playing games, Pierre pushed at the door, wrenching it inward and snapping the chain. A sharp cry escaped from Mina’s lips as she went stumbling back, the scent of her fear flooding the small place. Pierre stepped into her apartment as she whirled and gathered a small child to her. A child with cocoa-colored skin.
Heart racing, his head spinning, Pierre softly shut the door before swallowing and speaking. “What’s his name?”
“None of your business,” she bravely stated, even though he could see every inch of her quivering with anxiety.
Anger intermixed with anguish made Pierre’s voice tight. “I’d say the fact he’s my grandson makes him my business.”
At least she didn’t deny it any further. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “Please, you can’t take him from me. He’s all I have.”
“I would never do that!” Indignation made his words emerge sharply, and she flinched. “I’m sorry. That’s not why I’m here.”
“Then why are you here? What do you want with me? With my son?”
“I . . . ” For once, words escaped Pierre. He’d expected to find a male Lycan, one who’d perhaps run away or who didn’t know of his special place in the Lycan community. He’d never suspected he’d run into Mina, Remy’s lost mate, and he definitely never expected to find a child, one who reminded him so much of Remy, but with bright blue orbs. “Please. I didn’t come here to harm you or my grandson. I didn’t even know he existed.”
“And now that you know?”
Pierre swallowed hard, blinking back tears that didn’t belong to a man his age. “I’d like to meet him if you don’t mind.”
A flurry of emotions played out across her expressive visage: wariness, fear, hope, resignation. Biting her lip, she angled herself so that the child on her hip became more visible. “Jacques, say hello.”
The child, with his head covered in tousled brown curls, regarded him warily from his spot on his mother’s shoulder. A thumb pulled out with a wet pop before the child spoke. “Hi.”
Throat tight and eyes prickling, Pierre couldn’t help himself. He reached out a hand to stroke the rounded cheek of his grandson . . . and almost lost a finger.
He snatched his hand quickly back when Jacques snapped at it with his teeth, his little body suddenly rigid with tension.
“Jacques!” Mina cried. “No!”
Seeing the boy’s glowing eyes and sullen expression, Pierre’s cop brain put the pieces together. “It wasn’t you seeing the doctor, was it? You were having Jacques tested.”
A shutter went down over her face, blanking her expression, and her eyes grew wary. “How do you know about that?”
“We have people working at most of the medical labs keeping an eye out for our kind.”
She took a step back, her arms clutching her son tightly enough to make him squeak. “Your kind ? Just who and what are you?”
“I am a Lycan.”
Puzzlement creased her features. “What’s a Lycan?”
“I have the ability to shift my shape into that of a wolf.”
She regarded him for a moment before she burst out laughing, the strident mirth softening the tension in her face even if it was at his expense. “That’s insane.”
“Really?” Pierre queried, not surprised by her reaction. To the unknowing, his claim did seem crazy. “Let me ask you, have you noticed how your son’s eyes seem to glow? How his teeth seem sharper than other children’s, his temper more volatile? Does he keep you up the nights of the full moon? Does he—”
Mouth round in an O of shock, she held up a hand as if to halt his words, and he stopped. She stumbled backward and sank onto a couch covered in a blanket that he suspected hid holes. She ran a soothing hand down her son’s back as the gears in her mind turned. Pierre waited for her inevitable question.
“Was Remy a werewolf?”
“A Lycan like me? Yes.”
Absently, she rubbed at her neck, and his keen eyes spotted the crescent-shaped
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