Point of View
I awaken to discover Laura curled beside me, her head on my shoulder and her nose pressed on my neck. She rests her left arm across my chest while positioning her left leg over my thigh. To my right, I perceive Bray nestled under my arm, softly snoring in slumber while grasping his small wolf tightly against his chest.
For a few while, I kept completely motionless, fearing that the illusion would dissipate if I shifted. The tingling sparks from Ricky’s touch confirm that I am not dreaming; both my mate and our pup are securely ensconced in my arms.
This must be the sensation of paradise, I muse, as my heart races frantically within my chest.
It feels inherently natural to embrace them, as if they were destined to be with me.
Bray abruptly awakens, rising to his knees and surveying the scene with bewilderment. Dishevelled hair protrudes from his head, and his pyjamas are wrinkled and askew. He rubs his fatigued eyes and gazes at me with a smile.
“I am famished,” he yawns, extending his small arms. He rests his head on my abdomen and gazes at me with imploring eyes. “Shall we prepare waffles, Jadi?” ”
I smile at him, hesitant to shift and disrupt Ricky’s slumber. It requires many minutes for me to summon the confidence to draw her near and subsequently shift her onto her side to extricate myself from her hold. My heart races as she shifts before comfortably settling into her new position, moaning contentedly in her slumber.
I assist Bray in brushing his teeth and washing his face before proceeding to the kitchen, where I dedicate a few minutes to viewing videos on my phone regarding waffle preparation. Bray is nearly leaping with enthusiasm as I assemble items for his breakfast.
“May I assist you?” he enquires enthusiastically, grasping a whisk with a playful smile. “Auntie Tiana permits me to assist her. May I assist you as well?”
His pleading eyes render it exceedingly challenging to refuse, so I positioned a chair against the counter for him to stand on before placing the mixing bowl before him. I provide measuring cups packed with ingredients to Bray, the young kid joyfully pouring them into the bowl and vocalising the measurements to me. I place my hand over his, guiding his small hand through the process of whisking the ingredients until we achieve a smooth batter. I extract the waffle iron, scrutinising the perplexing device until I ultimately ascertain how to activate it.
“May I pour?” Bray enquires as we both observe the iron.
I provide him with a measuring cup filled with batter and stabilise him at the counter as he pours.
“Oops,” he exclaims as some of the batter cascades over the counter. “I apologise, Jadi.”
As a child, such a mistake would have resulted in corporal punishment and a week without maternal visits.
The young youngster conceals his batter-covered fingers behind his back, uncertain of my response to his error.
I do not wish for him to fear me.
“It is acceptable,” I smile, shutting the iron and placing Bray on the chair. I cradle his cheeks, aiming to prevent him from feeling that he is in trouble for his error. “Accidents occur. We simply need to rectify the situation, understood?”
I provide him with a towel and assist him in cleaning the counter, exchanging a high-five upon the completion of the task. As I invert the waffle iron to cook the opposite side, Bray touches me on the shoulder.
“Thus,” he states hesitantly, gazing up at me with his expansive blue and brown eyes. “Are you my father?” ”
My entire body tenses, although Jimmy readily reciprocates.
He mutters an affirmative. He is as much ours as Ricky is. He belongs to us.
The inquiry, therefore, can alone be addressed by Ricky.
“I have a strong affection for both you and your mother,” I respond with a hesitant smile. “However, I am uncertain about my status in relation to you.”
“I am aware of your true nature,” he chuckles. “You are a wolf.” He erupts into a howl. “Is it possible for me to become a wolf like you?” ”
I do not wish for him to become a wolf akin to myself… A wolf that grapples with communication, a wolf who commits excessive errors, a wolf who is destined to perpetually falter.
“You are an exceptionally unique wolf,” I whisper, caressing his forehead. “You will become a wolf even greater than I.”
He emits another wail and reclines in his chair, putting his head on the counter.
“Waffles…” he hisses, observing the steam ascend from the iron.
