Lucas’s panther looked out at Bastien through a human face. “Would you die to protect her?”
“That’s not even a question.” Bastien would bleed for any of his packmates, but the smallest, most vulnerable had a special place in all their hearts.
“That’s how I bear it,” Lucas said. “By reminding myself that every man, woman, and juvenile in this pack would fight to their last breath to protect her from harm.” A soothing rumble in his chest as Naya made a tiny sound, the leopard speaking to its cub. “We’re family, Bas, and family stands together. Whatever’s going on with your Kirby, we’ll figure it out.”
The words centered him, calmed his leopard. No matter what, Kirby was no longer alone. She had him—and she had the strength of DarkRiver behind her.
• • •
BASTIEN had just hit the edge of the city, having spent a good forty minutes talking to Dorian about what it had been like to shift after a lifetime of being latent, when he received another call. “Kirby?” he said, having programmed her number into his phone.
“Bastien.” A shuddering breath. “I—c-can you come get me? I’ve taken the rest of the day off, arranged a substitute.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
He pulled up to find Kirby waiting a few meters up from the kindergarten. “I’m sorry,” she said as soon as he got out of the driver’s seat. “I didn’t know who else to call.” Her eyes huge, she swallowed. “You must’ve been doing something important.”
“Shh.” Enfolding her trembling body in his arms, he ran his hand firmly up and down her back, making sure to touch the bare skin of her nape with each stroke. “I’m glad you called me.”
He could’ve held her forever, but he was conscious that though quiet, this was a public spot. More important, it was near Kirby’s place of work. “Come on, little cat. We’ll go somewhere private to talk.”
Once he had her in the car, he turned up the heater full blast and drove them a short distance to a city park dotted with comparatively small evergreens, around which meandered a walking path. Today, it was empty, the grass a deep jewel green under sunlight. Bastien got out as soon as they arrived, viscerally aware of Kirby’s continued distress, and sensing she’d do better out in the open.
Kirby didn’t argue when he drew her into the park, wrapping one of his arms around her shoulders so he could cuddle her close. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Stopping, she turned into him beside the straight trunk of a young pine. “Something strange is happening to me.” The words were utterly inadequate to express the raging chaos within her, but they were all Kirby had.
“Go on.”
Bastien’s steady gaze, his deep voice, his touch—oh, how she loved the way he touched her so readily—it gave her an anchor as she described her strange madness. “I was in the back room getting a drink of water for one of the children,” she began, still unable to make sense of it, “and all at once, I could hear every single child in the main room. Not just a blur of voices, but specific voices, each word crystal clear.”
Rubbing her hands over her face, she tucked back the strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail. “I dismissed it as a weird acoustic effect when it faded after a few seconds,” she said, her heart beginning to race again as it had then. “Then I walked out with the water . . . and into an avalanche of scent. I couldn’t breathe, felt as if I’d suffocate under the weight of it.”
Eyes intent, Bastien ran his free hand up and down her arm, his other one still strong and warm around her shoulders, but didn’t interrupt.
“I dropped the water”—thank God it had been a plas cup meant for little hands—“and it went all over the carpet. The scents disappeared almost at the same time, but I knew I couldn’t stay, risk the children when I couldn’t predict what might happen next.”
Hugging her arms around herself, she asked the question that had been tormenting her since. “Is it all in my head?” She couldn’t forget the fact the doctors at the clinic had found absolutely nothing wrong with her. “I could be having some type of a psychotic breakdown.”
Bastien gripped her chin. “You are not going crazy.”
Kirby stilled, caught by the unadulterated certainty of his tone, as if he knew something she didn’t. “Bastien?”
“Not here.” He scanned the park, and she knew he’d noted the three elderly people who’d arrived in the past few minutes. “We’ll go to my apartment. It’s not the best place for this discussion, but our forested territory isn’t close enough.”