Page 162 of The Delta's Rogue
“Youmade all that?” Sarina arches a brow in disbelief.
King Malachi laughs and shakes his head.
“Well, unlessMamámade it, I don’t want it.” She spins to face me and walks backwards as we make our way to the kitchen, and her dad winks at me over the top of Sarina’s head. “Mi mamámakes the best homemade salsa and tortillas,” she explains. “And the best tamales, the best chile rellenos… The best everything, actually. She learned the recipes frommi abuela—my grandmother. The three of us—and Micah—used to spend hours in the kitchen whenAbuelawould visit us from her pack in San Diego, and—”
“And Sarina would burn every other tortilla because she’d be too busy talking our ears off to pay attention to what she was doing.”
Sarina spins on the spot and stops in her tracks as she lays her eyes on a female who is her carbon copy. Or rather, Sarina is a younger version of the female standing at the stove in Peter’s kitchen.
“Mamá?”
Sarina takes one step forward, then freezes again, glancing at me over her shoulder. She’s back to the submissive, unsure version of herself—the one who thinks she can’t make her own decisions, the one who’s been brainwashed to defer to me. To her owner.
I slide my hands into my pockets and back away from her before nodding. I hate myself for it, but this is a marathon, not a sprint. For every large step forward we take, there’s another obstacle sending us backwards. But I’m in this for the long haul. That means recognizing when to push her to take control of her decisions and when I need to step up and be her strength.
At least she wants to go to her mom. At least she wants physical connection with someone other than me. Yesterday, she didn’t attempt to go to her dad when he arrived.
My nod is all the encouragement she needs, and she flies across the room to her mom. They hug, clinging to each other with near-identical teary smiles on their faces.
My heart swells as Sarina extends her hand and her eyes meet her dad’s. She beckons him to join them, and he doesn’t hesitate. In two long strides, he reaches them and wraps his arms around both of them.
Tears stream down Sarina’s cheeks as she basks in her parents’ loving embrace, and my eyes itch as I watch their emotional reunion.
“I’m so happy you’re safe now.” Queen Tatiana cups Sarina’s cheeks in her hands and scans every inch of her. The heartfelt smile in her eyes swaps to a frown as her gaze returns to Sarina’s face. “Your hair is much shorter than normal,” she remarks, pinching the raw edges between two fingers.
“Sebastian cut it for me,” Sarina says.
Queen Tatiana’s sharp eyes flick to me and then back to her daughter’s hair. “It’s uneven.”
I clear my throat and stand up straighter, refusing to cower under her criticism. “I didn’t have scissors, so I used a claw instead.”
“I will fix it for you later,” Queen Tatiana says to Sarina, softening once more. She releases Sarina from her grasp and tucks herself into King Malachi’s side, her chin jerking at me as Sarina makes her way back to my arms. “I want one of those.”
King Malachi raises his eyebrows in confusion. “A Sebastian?”
Tatiana laughs and shakes her head, pointing at my chest as she corrects him. “No, aLuna Tatianashirt.”
His gaze follows the path of her finger. His eyes light up, and a soft chuckle rumbles through him as I puff my chest out proudly to better show off the glittery words on my T-shirt.
“That’s funny,” he says.
I laugh in agreement. “Reid thought so too.”
“You know that’s not how it works, though, right?”
I shrug. “Sarina told me. But Reid already ordered me enough screen-printed shirts to wear one every day of the week for the next month, if not more. I don’t have it in me to break his heart and force him to cancel the order.” I glance down at my mate in my arms, where she’s once more tracing over the puff paint letters. “Plus, it brings a smile to Sarina’s face.”
King Malachi’s mouth splits into a wide, cheesy grin, and I realize I’m seeing a side of him that he only shows to those closest to him—a side he only shows to his family. The family I am now a member of.
“The others are on their way downstairs.” Queen Tatiana shoves King Malachi towards the table. “Go sit down while I make sure everything is ready. Take these.” She hands him a tortilla warmer and a dish of homemade salsa.
“I told you he’d come around,” King Malachi whispers to Sarina as he passes us on his way to the dining room table.
“Daaaaad…” Sarina groans and buries her face in my chest.
I laugh, stroke her hair, and kiss the top of her head.
“Where’s Micah?” she asks her dad, changing the subject.
