Page 17 of Jace

“Oh, right,” Susannah said. She carefully placed the cell down, and then lifted Zeke onto her shoulder and tapped his back softly.

“Harder,” Jace encouraged her.

Nothing.

Zeke was wailing now. He was hungry and he had a gassy belly.

Susannah’s expression turned desperate.

“Let me,” Jace heard himself saying calmly.

She handed the whelp over in obvious relief.

Zeke’s wailing ceased as soon as Jace had him in his arms.

“That’s right,” he told the whelp calmly. “I’ve got you. Let’s evacuate that awful burp.”

He rubbed between the tiny shoulder blades, then tapped firmly.

Zeke let out a terrific burp.

“That’s better,” Jace told him, continuing to rub and tap for another minute to be sure that was all.

When he pulled the baby down from his shoulder, it squeaked at him happily and whacked him in the jaw.

“I know, I see you too,” Jace told him. “It’s been a while since I wasn’t the only one tending to your needs.”

“He loves you so much,” Susannah said softly.

He was worried that she was jealous, but when he glanced over, he could see her eyes shimmering in the firelight and a happy smile on her face.

“He is too little to understand love,” Jace explained. “But I know how to make him feel more comfortable from many hours of practice. Soon you will know, too.”

“Don’t be silly,” Susannah laughed. “It’s more than that.”

“I am not being silly,” Jace said, wondering what there was to laugh at in caring for a helpless whelp. “You said before that I was his father. But you must understand that I am merely his guard. You are his sole parent.”

“I didn’t say it to try to get you to take care of him,” she said quickly. The look on her face was one of hurt.

“That is not what I meant,” he said. “I only meant that it is not proper for me to be called his parent. That honor belongs to you.”

He had a bad feeling in his stomach now, a feeling as if he had not only hurt Susannah’s feelings, but somehow also disrespected the small whelp in his arms.

But he had said only what was right and proper.

The dissonance echoed in his mind, and he wished he could close his eyes and walk through the entire encounter mentally to understand what had happened.

But that was a luxury he did not have. His mate sat before him, unhappy.

“Being a parent is not an honor,” she said softly. “And it’s not a title. It’s something you do.”

“Neither of us birthed this whelp,” he said, not understanding.

“I don’t mean the biological act of conceiving and bearing a child,” she said. “Any idiot can do that. I mean the work and the love required to watch over a baby. Since the moment he emerged from his pod, you have fed him and comforted him, haven’t you?”

Jace nodded, swallowing over an inexplicable lump in his throat.

“Of course you have,” she said. “You care for him. You feel worried when he cries, and pleased when he seems happy.”

---