Page 16 of Jace

“Not at all,” she told him. “It’s really wonderful, I never pictured that being useful for anything but battle.”

“I’ve used it far more often for convenience,” he admitted.

She laughed again and he could feel that it was a friendly, approving sound this time. She was pleased that he had shared something about himself.

He pulled out their supplies, handing her the baby’s milk cell, and focusing himself on the preserved protein mash he and Susannah would eat. It smelled like ashes, and didn’t taste much better, but he was grateful for sustenance.

After a few minutes, he looked up and saw Susannah was still holding the cell, a troubled look on her face.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“I had training with the agency,” she said. “But they assumed we would be heating a chilled milk cell in a food warmer. This is cold and we only have a fire…”

“Training manuals always seem useless in the field,” he said sympathetically. “You could put that cell in your armpit for ten minutes and it would warm it to your temperature, enough for him to drink it. If he were awake and wailing you could use the fire, but you’d have to be careful not to overheat it. You’d really be doing it by feel.”

“I see,” she said. “And how should I do it now?”

“For tonight you’ve done enough, give it to me,” he said, holding out his hand.

She handed it over instantly and the dragon preened in his chest at the show of trust and submission.

He held the cell in his hand and breathed gently on it.

“It’s ready for him now,” he said, offering it back.

As if on cue, there was a small mewing sound.

“He’s okay,” he told Susannah. “He always wakes unhappily. Though whether he is distressed to have to leave his dream, or sad that he missed out on what happened in the real world while he slept, is a mystery I cannot solve.”

She laughed and placed down the cell so that she could pull the little one out of the sling.

Jace watched, trying to fight back the urge to grab the whelp and feed it himself.

It wasn’t just that he knew how Zeke liked to be held and how often his burps needed to be released. It was the way his arms felt right now, too empty and too light.

The whelp is not yours, he tried to tell himself. He belongs with his mother.

But it didn’t stop the unsettled feeling in his chest. Between the dragon demanding his mate, and his own unruly emotions, he was feeling tangled up inside.

“Here you are,” Susannah murmured softly.

He watched as she expertly opened the cell and tested it on her forearm.

“Perfect,” she told the little one. “Your daddy knows how to get your milk just right in one try.”

Your daddy?

He wanted to argue, but he was struck speechless. Had he not properly explained his role in Zeke’s life? Or was she willfully misunderstanding?

Or am I acting like his father, watching everything she does like a hawk?

He forced himself to turn back to their dinner. He laid out the cells on folding discs and opened two units of fresh water.

“Oh no, you don’t like it,” Susannah said suddenly.

Zeke’s tiny cry cut through the night.

“He needs to burp,” Jace explained.

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