Page 36 of Bad Wolf's Nanny
He walked the boy slowly around the room, pacing like Felix had told him, something about rhythm helping with digestion. He wasn’t sure it mattered, but Sam didn’t cry, so he kept going.
The house was quiet. A kind of peace he rarely got to feel.
Dane had lived in chaos for years: battlefields, border patrols, pack politics, and the constant low-level threat of being one mistake away from bloodshed. But this?
A dim room, a sleeping baby, and the faint hum of the baby monitor?
It was disarming.
And dangerous.
He sat down in the rocker and adjusted Sam in the crook of his elbow. The baby blinked up at him, one hand curled against Dane’s chest. His eyes were darker now, not quite blue anymore. They’d shift to something else soon, maybe something that looked like Dane’s. Maybe not.
It didn’t matter.
“Hey, bud,” Dane murmured, “you’re getting big.”
Sam gurgled sleepily in response.
“You smiled today. Lola told me. Said it was a full one, no gas involved. Guess you’re trying to make her fall in love with you.”
He paused.
His own words lingered in the air.
Because that was the problem, wasn’t it?
It wasn’t justLolafalling for Sam.
It washim…falling for her.
For the way she knew Sam’s cues already. The way she’d memorized feeding intervals and tracked sleep patterns and bought little socks with cartoon bears because “his feet get cold and it’s statistically relevant to comfort.” The way she muttered to herself when she cooked and never ate enough, and got this stunned, fragile look whenever someone complimented her.
She was in his house. Every day.
In his life.
And now, in his chest.
He was getting attached.
And that was a problem.
Because Dane didn’tdoattachment. Not like this.
He’d had flings, sure. Hookups, the occasional weekend of ‘no strings’ that ended as soon as someone brought up the future. He had his pack, his duty, his role. Emotions got complicated. Emotions got people killed.
But this wasn’t casual.
They hadn’t even slept together.
This was her reading him better than he liked. This was her making his house smell like cinnamon and baby powder. This was her buying two different brands of tea and reorganizing his spice rack alphabetically without saying a word.
This was her holding Sam like he was the most important thing she’d ever touched.
He was in trouble.
Dane looked down at his son, who was now fully asleep, breathing in shallow, even puffs against his chest.
