Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Dakvaar
Coach gave us Monday off since we were getting back in the wee hours of the morning.
Usually the bus rides back from Denver were an uncomfortable pain in the ass—how much trouble would it be for the team to buy a bus designed for males over seven feet tall?
—but this time I didn’t mind the discomfort.
Not with my two females trusting me enough to fall asleep curled up against me.
Sofia woke as we pulled into the parking lot, sat up, and began to wipe her eyes and apologize.
I silenced her with a kiss; I loved the way she stiffened, then melted against me.
Rosa never once woke as I buckled her into the car seat I’d purchased that very first day. When I carried her into her bedroom, I nuzzled her cheek.
“Kitling,” I whispered, “I know you’re awake and just faking it to get out of having to brush your tusks.”
The little giggle she gave—eyes still squeezed shut—told me our debate about what to call her teeth was still going. I tucked her into bed and lingered to press a kiss to her forehead.
When I straightened, I felt Sofia watching us from the doorway.
To my relief, there was a sad sort of smile on her lips, rather than disapproval.
I took her hand and led her, in silence, to our bedroom, where I waited for her to perform her evening ablutions, then tucked her up beside me in the bed, all without words.
My Kteer was quiet for a change. I suppose it was because it had worked overtime in tonight’s game, keeping me on edge—and alive—on the ice. It had been rewarded with our win.
And with my Mate’s show of trust as she confessed about her past.
I was exhausted, yes, but I wasn’t going to push Sofia. I held her as she fell asleep, and stared up at the ceiling until I had to admit I couldn’t come up with a solution to the Anthony problem tonight.
Apparently my ability to keep from pleasuring Sofia lasted until dawn, when I came awake with my mouth already on her—I’m not sure if it was instinct or my Kteer—but her orgasm was just as sweet as it had been on Saturday.
I made her come twice more, in between naps, before I finally forced myself to roll out of bed, away from her. Mainly because I’d heard Rosa clanking around the kitchen, doubtlessly looking for breakfast.
When I appeared in the doorway in my sweats and t-shirt, the kitling’s face lit up. “Dak! I’m hungry. Can I make pancakes again?”
Hiding my yawn, I padded to the coffeemaker. “How about I make the pancakes, and you cut up the strawberries for the top? But we have to be quiet so we don’t wake your mother.”
Sofia still wasn’t awake when we plated, nor when we sat down to eat quietly. I’ll admit that my Kteer preened softly, knowing my Mate was nearby, trusting enough to continue sleeping.
“Dak,” Rosa whispered comically loud, “can we go skating today? I think I’m getting better.”
“Getting better at what?” I teased, since she’d never been out on the pond. I’d only been able to find an extra pair in her size two days ago. “Putting on the skates?”
The kitling nodded eagerly. “They look the best with my pink sparkly pants. I could put them on!”
“Oh, so you’re getting better at accessorizing, that’s what I’m hearing?”
“I’d the best at assessoring! I’ll show you!”
Chuckling, I had her help me clean up, then cautioned her again to keep her voice down as I shooed her into her room to get changed.
Amazing how, in such a short amount of time, that guest room had become her room. At times I found myself imagining how I would decorate it for her—unicorns would likely be involved—before I clamped down on the musings.
Rosa had an apartment, with her things in it. She was viewing this stay with me as a vacation—a camping trip. And I couldn’t go to her apartment and gather her things until the Anthony threat was dealt with.
And once the Anthony threat was dealt with, there’d be no reason for my females—my family—not to return to their own apartment. Our interlude together would be over.
Unless, a little voice inside me whispered, Sofia makes the choice to return to you.
And she wasn’t going to do that until she knew the truth. My truth, the truth I’d been hiding from her all this time.
Skating with Rosa—teaching her to skate—didn’t take up all of my attention.
Which was good, because my mind and my heart kept circling back to the thought of telling Sofia she was my Mate.
I knew, after her confession last night, that it had to happen if there was ever going to be a chance at forever with her.
Up until last night, I hadn’t fully understood what she was running from, so I couldn’t plan. Now I did, and I knew we did have a chance.
I had to tell her soon.
Rosa and I skated until about one o’clock.
I’d never worked with a kitling before, and had no idea how long it took to learn to skate.
I’d understood the basics back in my world, so it hadn’t taken long for me to feel comfortable on the ice here.
She picked it up almost as quickly, and by the time we were ready to break for lunch, was skating by my side, jabbering away about the things she saw or her imaginary adventures with Veth’kar.
Twice, I’d felt Sofia watching us from the porch. The first time, I’d glanced over to see her standing beside the hot tub with her coffee, and the second time she must’ve been at the window. Our Mate Bond was growing stronger if I could feel her gaze…
“I’m hungry. When can I skate without holding your hand? I think we should get hot chocolate.”
I was growing used to the kitling’s way of conversation, and chose just one part to respond to. “When we get you a helmet, you can skate without holding my hand.”
“Sometimes, on my videos, they gotta wear things on their knees and elbows to ride bikes. Like you did.”
It took me a moment—we rounded the far curve of the ice—to understand what she was talking about. “Oh, pads? Yeah, hockey players have to wear a lot of protective padding. I think kitlings wear them when they ride bikes too.”
“I don’t have a bike.” She was tugging me back toward the house. “I want a bike though. Come on, let’s go this way.”
Gently, I redirected her. “The ice in the middle of the pond is too thin, so it’s not safe to skate there. Would you like a bike one day?”
The distraction worked, and she was chattering about riding a bike—and how she’d be faster than anyone else ever—by the time we reached the backyard, and I hoisted her into my arms to carry her to the porch.
“Now it’s time for hot cocoa,” she announced, slinging her arms around my neck. “And then you know what we gotta do?”
“No, what?”
“Soak in the hot tub. Mama said she had fun, so we gotta do it again.”
“Well, if your mother enjoyed it, we will,” I told her seriously. “I will always do what I can to make your mother happy.”
“That’s ‘cause you’re the best, Dak!” Rosa announced, and leaned over to plant a sloppy kiss on my cheek.
My heart swelled.
Sofia had lunch—and hot cocoa—waiting for us, and after lunch we did indeed pile into the hot tub.
Hot tubbing with a five-year-old wasn’t nearly as relaxing as it was to do alone, but Rosa’s joy made it worth it.
We watched a movie before dinner, all curled together on my big couch, and when Sofia fell asleep against me—I suppose the trials of a small lion cub singing about waiting to be king weren’t as fascinating to her as to her daughter—my Kteer purred in contentment.
It was the following morning that I realized I’d missed a prime opportunity to tell her the truth last night, after we’d put Rosa to sleep. Instead, I’d looked up, seen my Mate’s smile, and swept her off to bed.
It had taken remarkable restraint not to pull off my boxers, spread her legs, and claim her the way my Kteer urged me to. But I couldn’t, not until she accepted the Mate Bond.
To say I was distracted during practice was an understatement.
The team was still flying high after our unexpected win against the Avengers, and Bardon and the coaches used that, pushing us in scrimmage. We had a home game this week, and the guys were ready for it.
More than one of them asked me if little Rosa would be attending, and I realized they thought of her as a good luck charm.
The thought made my heart happy.
She wasn’t mine, but on some level, she was ours.
And maybe, one day, the kitling might be my daughter.
When I came out of the shower, Torrk was waiting for me. Oh, he wasn’t being obvious about it, which was rare for the gregarious male; he was fussing with something in his locker, but I could feel his expectation.
The fact that he wasn’t muttering to himself was a dead giveaway; Torrk always muttered to himself when he was in his own world.
The locker room emptied out slowly, the way it always did after a successful scrimmage; males in various states of undress and euphoria, Jord recounting his goal to anyone who’d listen and several who wouldn’t, Bardon reminding everyone about the film session Wednesday in the tone of a male who knew no one was listening.
I took my time with my gear, wanting to give everyone else the chance to clear out.
I peeled off my tape and told myself I was being thorough.
When I finally looked up, the room was empty except for Torrk, who was standing at the far end doing something to his shoulder that involved a lacrosse ball, the cinderblock wall, and a facial expression of profound spiritual suffering.
“Don’t wait for me,” I said. “I’m slow today.”
“I know. I watched you take that hit in the second period. You’re going to be purple tomorrow. Gorgeous, really. Very dramatic.” He rolled the ball down his spine with a grunt. “I’m going to get you a mirror so you can appreciate it.”
“Torrk.”
“You’ll thank me. You have excellent bruising. Some of us bruise like garbage and some of us are blessed—”
“Torrk.”