Page 46 of Baby and the Beast

Nash couldn’t help the shudder, and his daughter broke off and fussed. He made himself relax, and she fastened back on.

“How about you tell me what you want, and I’ll say if I have it or can get it?” Casimir’s tone was so reasonable it almost made Nash laugh.

“I owe you a huge thank you. And I’m sorry I was too out of it earlier.”

Casimir remained silent for a beat. “Which still doesn’t tell me what you want to eat.”

Nash smiled faintly to himself. It should be awkward. He didn’t know this guy. But he guessed there wasn’t much of Nash he hadn’t seen over however many hours he’d been here.

“I don’t eat meat. Sorry.”

“No problem,” Casimir said without missing a beat. “Got carrots, parsnips, and potatoes in the root cellar. Mushrooms,” he added after a moment. “Beets.” He paused. “What about eggs?”

Nash blinked a couple of times. How was this normal?

“Whatever’s easiest,” he managed to croak out.

He looked down at his daughter. She’d stopped sucking. Casimir moved again and gently gathered her up, laying her in the makeshift crib like he’d done it a hundred times before. Nash covered himself, then realized hedesperatelyneeded to pee.

“Umm—”

“Bathroom’s back there,” Casimir nodded. “I have hot water and towels as well. Use anything you need. Food will be ready when you are.”

And with that, he left the room.

Nashdidfeel better. Hungry. He might still feel like he’d been through the wringer, but his shifter body was tougher than a human’s. He grabbed his small pack and padded out of the bedroom into a larger room he hadn’t taken in yesterday. A window revealed swirling snow—early afternoon, maybe, but no visible sun. Casimir had gone outside; there was only one other door, which he assumed was the bathroom.

The main room was cozy. Not at all what he’d expected. Some version of the cave, maybe? Nash figured Casimir lived alone—and couldn’t help wondering why. Not that it was any of his business, but the man, even quiet and stoic, had a gentleness that surprised him.

He knew about shifters. Nash supposed the scars could have been an accident, but they looked too careful. Too deliberate.

The room had a small kitchen at one end and two armchairs at the other. One was older, covered in a dark blue throw and padded with cushions. The other, worn leather. A small table and a lamp completed the seating area, but Nash’s attention snagged on the wall of bookshelves behind the chairs.

Tempting. But boots stomped outside and Nash darted to confirm the bathroom’s location before Casimir came back in. It was small but clean. The shower looked heavenly. Nash spotted the water heater and assumed there was a propane tank outside.

He resolved to be quick.

When he came out—clean and dressed in his last pair of sweats—he had no clean top. He hovered, towel in hand, trying to decide what to do when he opened the door and spotted Casimir at the counter, chopping vegetables.

Nash’s belly growled. Loudly.

Casimir nodded toward the armchairs, where the crib sat on the low table. Nash smiled and stepped forward—just as the entire room tilted violently.

A low sound—he thought it came from Casimir—hit his ears, and then strong arms caught him, cradling him briefly before depositing him in the leather chair.

He hadn’t realized it reclined until his feet were up and his head was back.

“Sorry,” Nash whispered once the room stopped its sickening spin.

“You’ll feel better with food in you,” Casimir said.

Nash’s belly agreed, even as it lurched. In another moment, the throw blanket from the other chair was tucked over him. He shivered and tried not to show it.

Casimir disappeared for a moment and returned with a sweatshirt. Without asking, he pulled it over Nash’s head and made short work of getting it on him.

Nash looked up—and for the first time,reallyinhaled Casimir’s scent.

The forest after a rain. Clean snow. Oak and pine. Steady and strong. And underneath, something soft. Hidden. Protected.

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