Page 47 of The Gamma's Second Chance

He throws one last tongue swipe along my cheek, then prances back over to Haven, where he sits on his haunches next to her, his chest puffed out proudly, the cheesy lilac tutu he wore the other day once again around his middle.

“How are you?” Haven asks as I reach the porch.

“Fine,” I say, following her into the house. Cav stays behind, and I give him a little wave as I shut the door.

Haven glances at me, her brow raised, her eyes flicking over my outfit. “I’m surprised he didn’t make you wear his shirt.”

My cheeks heat, and I pinch my lips together, clearing my throat. “He likes my dresses,” I mutter.

Her deep blue eyes light up with understanding and laughter, and she nods. “Ah.”

I’m silent as I follow her down the brightly lit hall to a room with an arched opening. Inside the room, there is a huge mirror all along the far side, large windows lining the left-hand wall that make the room seem as if it’s outside in the forest, and a small office area on the right-hand side, where Wesley sits, working on a laptop.

“This is beautiful,” I say, my voice breathless as I take everything in—the gorgeous natural lighting, the spotless mirrors, the exquisite professional-grade dance flooring, and the mounted ballet barres on the interior wall. All of it is stunning and designed with such care and precision.

Haven trails her fingers along the wooden barre as she walks towards Wesley’s desk. “Wesley outdid himself with this one. But my favorite will always be the first one he made me.”

Haven reaches the office section of the dance studio and grabs one of the lightweight wooden chairs with thin ivory cushions on the opposite side of the desk, turning to take it to the center of the room. But before she makes it two steps, Wesley is around his desk and snatching the chair from her, grabbing the other along with it, and marching them both to the open space of the studio.

“I could have done that,” Haven says, rubbing her belly as she follows him.

Wesley grunts his response and drops a kiss to the top of her head, his hand covering hers on her belly. Then he returns to hisdesk, plopping down in the leather office chair without another word.

“Males,” Haven mouths to me, her eyes rolling as she too sits down. I chuckle and sit in the chair across from her, setting my purse down on the floor next to me. “So, how are we going to do this?”

“I have a couple of questions first, if you don’t mind?” Haven shrugs. “They may be a little… personal,” I continue, folding my hands in my lap.

“That’s fine.”

I nod. “Have you ever spoken to Selene about your aura?”

Haven tenses, and her lips turn into a slight, angry frown. “No. I’ve only spoken to her twice. That night in Greece, and the night Wesley marked me and she gave me the mindlink ability.” She swallows and fiddles with the hem of her shirt. “Why? Is there something wrong? Or something bad?”

Wesley’s eyes lift from his work, and he pauses, waiting for my response. “No. I was just curious if she’d pulled you into her realm at all to tell you about it after she gave it to you. Or if you’d visited her yourself.”

“Don’t we have to like…” She blushes, and her eyes dart around the room. “I mean. I know she brought me there after Wesley marked me, but that was kind of like a ritual, too, right?”

I bite back my laugh. “You only had to do the ritual the first time because you’d never connected with her before, and even Selene has limits of how she can connect with mortals. But if she wanted to—or if you wanted to—you could visit her in her realm at any time.”

She bites her lip, the anger and resentment returning to her features. “Her and I… we’re not really on speaking terms. She may be my mother, but she’s not my mom.”

I nod and clasp my hands together tighter, maintaining eye contact with her. “I understand. Blood relation doesn’t automatically make someone your family.”

A small smile returns to her face, and she glances at Wesley, who is once again focused on his work. “That is an incredibly true statement.” Her attention returns to me after she gazes lovingly at him for a second, determination in her eyes. “What do you know about it?” she asks. “My aura?”

“It’s an identifier. Like an alpha aura or any other ranked wolf aura. It signals to others that you’re someone important. The command—well, that I’m guessing was given to you as a means to protect yourself. Even with King Malachi helping hide your identity, and even with the special blood contract knife the oracles and the thirteen crones created to bind all your pack members—new and old—to secrecy, there is still a chance of someone figuring out who you are and trying to use that against you or for their own gain. Being able to command werewolves and lycans of any rank no matter what pack they’re in…”

Her eyes widen and both her hands cover her belly, her motherly instincts already taking over all her conscious and subconscious reactions. “She thinks something will happen to me? Or to our family? Something I’d need to protect us from?”

I reach for her and cover her hands on her belly with my own, leaning forward in my seat. “No,” I say, squeezing her hand. “But you are her only living daughter. With everything that happened to Asteria and everything that happened to you, can you blame her for wanting you to have a way to protect yourself?”

“I told her I didn’t want magic or powers,” Haven says, her eyes watering.

“She’s a goddess. She does what she wants.”

Haven scoffs and I pull away from her. I sense she has more she wants to say, further strong opinions on the subject, but she clenches her jaw and clamps her mouth shut, staring out at theforest through the windows behind me. Her body tenses, and she squeezes her eyes closed, her neck straining as she tilts her head side to side like she’s stretching out a tweaked nerve.

“Let it out,” I say, my voice soft and coaxing. “I need to practice. That’s why I am here.”

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