Chapter Ten #2
Except, in the last week or so, Caine had disrupted the flow.
He’d switched up our usual routine and it had messed with my fucking head.
He would show up outside my bedroom door, usually while Minnie was asleep, just to check on her before disappearing again.
It became a habit, and eventually Minnie started fussing during his visits, attuned to his scent and presence.
At first, he’d come up with excuses and leave before she woke, but all it took was one night for her to catch him off guard by calling out for him.
He’d stayed, perched at the end of the bed until she drifted off again. Then he was gone.
Last night, he made his near silent drop-in while I was battling through her bedtime routine, just hovering on the outskirts, monitoring my every move intently.
It was strange, especially because he never turned up during the day.
It was as if he meticulously planned it for when Minnie was too tired to function so he wouldn’t have to bother navigating interaction with her—or with me since I wouldn’t risk disturbing her to berate him for it.
Well, silence was fucking golden, so he could carry on with his master plan if it meant I never had to—
“Wreaking havoc, I see.” I jolted upright, eyes darting to the doorway to find Caine leaning against the frame with not quite a smile but definitely not a frown on his face. “She really is my child.”
What the fuck?
“A-fa!” Minnie squawked, building blocks forgotten in favour of her hero.
I wasn’t bitter at all.
“How long have you been standing there?” I asked—well, accused, really.
An expression, so subtle I almost didn’t catch it, passed over his face as if he’d discovered the holy grail, and I regretted opening my mouth.
“I’m shocked you didn’t notice, what with your body being so attuned to my scent.
” He scoffed lightly. “Or has the pampered lifestyle already lowered your guard?”
I threw him a look that I hoped would make him burst into flames. No such luck. He cocked an eyebrow as if challenging me to bite back, but I refrained. Just. There were too many impressionable ears around to say exactly what was gathering on the tip of my tongue like snake venom.
“A-fa,” Minnie said again, raising her arms in his direction, clenching and unclenching her fingers into fists. Caine stared down at her like she’d grown horns, and I almost laughed.
Almost.
“She wants you to pick her up,” I said, and he sobered, stabbing me with the dryest look—as if I was the one acting like I’d never seen a kid before.
“Yes, I gathered that.” Adjusting the legs of his perfectly tailored trousers, he crouched down and scooped her up one-armed—more competently than I’d expected, or had ever done myself. That was when I noticed the neon-blue stuffie in his other hand. “I have a gift for you, Minseo.”
It was a dragonfly.
The Devereux emblem.
Minnie squealed again, and mercifully my eardrums were hardened against the piercing noises she made, but I noticed Caine wince.
“Wow, what do we say, Minnie?” I prompted her, waiting as she gurgled happily.
She loved animals, but especially bugs and dragons, so it was the best of both.
Yay, Caine. As if she needed any more reason to worship him.
Slimy bastard.
“Ta,” she said, and Caine nodded once, very mechanical and impassive.
“You’re welcome.”
Why she’d gravitated toward him, I didn’t know.
Was it because—even with their newly secured bond—he was technically a stranger?
Someone shiny and new like a novelty she wasn’t bored of yet?
Did she like that he didn’t fuss, his composed demeanour, or was it purely instinct?
She’d feel the pack tie to him in her chest, even if she didn’t fully understand it, bolder than the others since they shared blood.
But was that it? Or was it an inherent form of deferral?
She called him “A-fa,” an attempt at copying me the day we’d disputed the formalities of him accepting her as his successor. “You’re an Alpha,” I’d muttered, tucking Minnie’s face into the crook of my neck as she’d shied away. “Your scent might be too intense for her.”
I’d tried to correct her, to encourage Dad instead—or even Da.
It irked me hearing her use his designation so easily, like referring to him as “sir” or “my lord,” but she did what she wanted, and it stuck.
Anytime she drew him in a picture or looked up at the door whenever anyone walked in, it was “A-fa.”
Initially, she’d shunned him, as if it took her a few days to figure out he was the one who’d saved her from the warehouse, but she’d clocked on eventually.
She’d chosen him as her best friend and hadn’t stopped yipping on about him since.
He’d barely interacted with her for more than five minutes after that day—not fully awake, at least—and he was already her fave, besides Edith and Brian.
Wonder where I ranked.
Minnie wriggled in Caine’s arms, communicating her desire to be set back on the ground. He obliged, and she stumble-trotted toward me, waving her new toy. “Da-ee.”
I gasped dramatically. “Ah, what is it?” She stopped, swaying on her feet as she assessed the stuffie. Her face scrunched. “Is it a dra-gon-fly?”
She opened her mouth to parrot my words, but the syllables wouldn’t take shape. With a grunt, she turned and walked away, our lessons done.
“We’ll work on it.” I shrugged before looking up at Caine. His gaze was already on me. “Is that another form of induction into the family?”
He hummed. “Until she’s old enough for the tattoo.”
“She won’t be getting a tattoo,” I snapped, glancing away before seeing his reaction. It wasn’t my intention to be hypocritical. The idea of a tattoo in general wasn’t the issue—she could cover herself in them for all I cared—it was the concept of branding I was staunchly against.
She was a Devereux in name and blood, but that didn’t mean she had to wear the reminder on her skin.
It was a while before Caine spoke again. I’d almost forgotten he was there with how eerily still and silent he was. A shadow. “Where is Edith?”
“She’s coming in later—she has an appointment.”
Edith was the live-in nanny Caine had hired not even a week after finding Minnie.
“To take the load off,” he’d said, as if I was incapable of handling our daughter on my own like I’d done since the day she was born.
I hadn’t taken him up on it. Not at first. It had filled me with dread, the thought of leaving her with a stranger—leaving her side at all, to be honest. We were now fully integrated into this realm of constant power struggles and turf wars and it was daunting.
She was the heir to the highest ranking pack, the perfect leverage, and I couldn’t escape the feeling I’d royally fucked up.
Those first two weeks, my anxiety would shoot through the roof if she so much as wandered out of sight. A month and a half on, I still felt an uncomfortable swoop in my stomach whenever we parted, even for a second, but it had gotten easier to handle. In truth, I owed it to Edith.
Caine, ever the voice of fucking reason—which grated against every single one of my nerves—had reminded me that life wasn’t the same as it was before.
I now had regular heats and ruts to contend with, plus there was the case of Minnie not attending the mating—a precaution, apparently—so what would happen to her in those circumstances?
Was she to be left on her own? Or handed over to his lackeys?
His delivery left a lot to be desired, but he was right, which was hard for me to admit, so I’d stewed on it for a couple of days before buckling.
I’d prefer, if I wasn’t around, for Minnie to be with someone she’d grown familiar with, someone I could trust, and the only way that could develop was by giving Edith a chance.
It was slow going, but after a trial period, I’d allowed her more access to Minnie, asking her to watch her while I was showering or grabbing food.
The duration grew longer and longer each day.
She was similar to my grandma, firm but fair, and pretty quickly, I noticed how much she genuinely adored my baby girl, treating her as if she was one of her own.
This wasn’t just a paycheque to her, it was a position she took pride in, and gradually, I managed to relax around her.
She was supportive, patient, and so wise I was convinced there was nothing she didn’t know.
She would offer me tips and tricks only a grandmother could’ve collected over the years, and though my wariness would likely be a permanent fixture, I’d grown to rely on her.
And in turn not be so on edge.
“I didn’t authorise a morning off.” Caine’s tone was accusatory, his eyebrow raised.
I was going to shave the damn thing off in his sleep.
“Nope. I did,” I said casually, staring straight at him, daring him to contradict me.
For a second, he stared back, his eye narrowing ever so slightly before he tore his gaze away. His jaw clenched, and he said nothing else on the matter.
I did a mental victory lap. Though it was short-lived.
“You wore that T-shirt yesterday,” he remarked. “And those . . . sweatpants.”
I looked down at the washed-out superhero logo in the centre of my chest, confused as to why it mattered.
It wasn’t an outfit I’d leave the house in.
They were my lazing-around clothes to play with Minnie in.
They were super baggy ’cause I’d worn them while pregnant and just never had the funds to buy more that fit. I didn’t need to.
They’d be wearable for another few months, at least.
“So?”
“Did the housekeepers not pick up your laundry?” he asked, with a tone of interrogation. “I’ll see to it that they are—”