“Her name is Nalla,” he said roughly. “My daughter is much younger than you. She would like to have a big sister, if you’d like to teach her things.”

“Oh, yes. I would.”

“What’s that in your arms, little one?”

Bitty looked down, and Mary held her breath. “This is my mahmen. She passed. That’s why Mary and Rhage are fostering me. I hope I get to stay here, though. I like them a lot.”

Just like that. The explanation was simple, and heartbreaking . . . and had all the adults blinking back tears.

Zsadist inclined his head low, his yellow eyes glowing. “My condolences for your loss. And welcome to our home—which you should now call yours, too.”

Bitty leaned her head to the side and regarded the Brother. “I like you. You’re nice.”

Hours later, after they got Bitty settled next door, Rhage and Mary headed into their room.

He was still blind as hell, but Rhage didn’t care how many times he stubbed his toe or clipped something on a door jamb, Bitty was under the same roof as he and Mary were, so all was hella right in his world. And, man, had she blown everyone away.

Even though she was this little thing in this huge, grand mansion with all these people she’d never met in her life? She had gone up and called everyone by name, introducing herself and smiling and laughing. She had kept her mother’s urn with her the entire time, and somehow that had seemed apt, not ghoulish or morbid.

Her mahmen was very much a part of her and always would be—and, oh, his Mary was being so respectful of that.

Like his female could make him love her more? Jesus.

“I can’t believe we have a kid,” he was saying as his shellan took him into the bathroom and loaded up his brush with toothpaste. “We are parents. We have . . . a kid.”

“And I’m sorry, I may already be biased, but how fantastic is she? Did you see Wrath? He’s in love with her. I think he wants L.W. to marry her.”

“Well, she’s strong. She’s smart. Who wouldn’t want to—”

From out of nowhere, a snarl twitched his upper lip, and a growl percolated up out of his chest—while at the same time, the beast surged around his back looking for a way out.

And all that got worse as he pictured some male standing next to his Bitty with all kinds of bright fucking ideas in his—

“Rhage. Stop it. She’s going to probably want to date someone at some point—”

“Over his fucking dead body anyone is touching my daughter—”

“Rhage, okay, three-part yoga breath.” She petted his shoulder like she was soothing a lion. “It’s perfectly normal for little girls to grow up and want to get mated to—”

“Nope. She’s not dating. Ever.”

Mary started laughing. “You know, this would truly be funny if I didn’t worry that you weren’t slightly serious.”

“I’m totally fucking serious.”

“Here we go already.” Mary sighed. “I swear, Bella and I are going to have to get you and Zsadist into a support group.”

“Yes!” he announced. “My brother will know exactly how this is. Solidarity among fathers—”

Mary cut off his rant by shoving a boatload of Crest toothpaste into his piehole. “Shut up and brush, honey. We’ll talk about this after her transition. In, like, twelve to fifteen years.”

“Bdjgaehu hasdpi knjidhgil.”

“What was that?”

“Not gonna change a fucking thing.”

But he was a good boy and worked his chompers over. Then he and Mary took a shower . . . where all kinds of other things happened—

ALL OF WHICH REMINDED HIM EXACTLY WHY THERE WAS GOING TO BE NO DATING, LIKE, EVER.

When they were finally lying in their big ornate bed together, he positioned his beloved next to him and let out an exhale that lasted a century and a half.

“Are the lights off?” he asked after a moment.

“Mmm-hmmm.”

He kissed her head. “Why do all the best things happen when I’m blind? I met you when I was blind. Now . . . she’s here, and I’m blind.”

“Must be your version of a lucky horseshoe.”

Rhage stared up at the nothingness over their heads as Mary yawned so hard her jaw cracked.

Just before he was about to go to sleep, his lids popped back open.

“Mary?”

“Hmm-mmm.”

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“For what?”

“For making me a father.”

Mary lifted her head up out of the crook of his arm. “What are you—I didn’t do that.”

“You most certainly gave us our family.” Damn it, he wished he could see her. Instead, he had to make do with his memory of her beautiful face—good thing he’d spent a lot of time staring at his shellan.

“You absolutely made me a father—I was dying on that battlefield, and you saved me. If you hadn’t done that, we never would have gotten Bitty, because we would have been up in the Fade, and she would have been down here, alone. You made this happen. And it isn’t just about me almost passing. You hung in with Bitty from the moment she lost her birth father, through the death of her brother and then of her mother. You worked with her in the aftermath, helping her come out of her shell. And then when we decided to try to do this, you set up the procedure and made sure it was done right. You coached me with my interview. You focused on Bitty. You . . . you made this happen, my Mary. You birthed my daughter, maybe not out of the womb, but certainly out of circumstance—you made me a father. And that is the greatest gift any female can ever give her male. So . . . thank you. For our family.”

The sweet scent of his shellan’s tears wafted, and he found her face in the darkness, bringing her mouth to his. The kiss he gave her was chaste and reverent, an expression of his gratitude.

“You have quite a way of putting things, you know that,” she said in a rough voice.

“Just being honest. That’s all I’m doing.”

When Mary resettled on his chest, Rhage closed his eyes. “I love you, my Mary Madonna.”

“And you’re always going to be my prince with shining fangs.”

“Really?”

“Mmm-hmm. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. You and Bitty.”

“That’s so sweet.” He sighed again. “Jeez, I feel sorry for Bits, though.”

Mary lifted her head again. “Why?”

“BECAUSE SHE IS NEVER DATING—”

“Rhage, seriously. You gotta give that a rest. . . .”

SEVENTY-TWO

Sitting in the back of I’ve Bean, Jo looked up as Bill came over to the table. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

The reporter laughed as he sat down with his latte. “So, good news.”

“You found the restaurant Julio was talking about downtown?”

“No, you got the online-editor position. They’re going to call you in about an hour and officially offer it. They wouldn’t tell me what the salary is, but it has to be in the low thirties.”

Jo pumped her fist. “Yes. Yes. That is awesome—I can start right after I finish my notice period at Bryant’s.”

“Do you know he called me?”

“What?”

Bill unwrapped another one of his scarves and draped it over the back of his chair. “Yeah. I think he’s obsessed with you. He wanted to know whether or not we were dating.”

“You’re married.”

“I pointed this out to him. P.S., Lydia wants to invite you over for dinner Saturday night. My cousin’s coming. Troy, you remember him.”

“Tell her I’d love to. What can I bring?”

“Just yourself and not Dougie.”

“Done.”

There was a slight pause, something she didn’t associate with the guy who had somehow become her older brother over the last week or so.

“What is it?” she said.

Bill looked around the crowded coffee shop like he was in search of a familiar face in the crowd. More likely, he was picking out words in his head.

“Employment is good,” she prompted. “Dinner is good. Soooooo . . .”