Chapter 2

My pup keeps sucking on her tiny fist. She's starving.

All I can do is force down the hard jerky, washing each bite with mouthfuls of water.

I eat too fast. Something scrapes raw down my throat.

My eyes sting.

I choke down piece after piece.

They swell inside my empty stomach until I feel sick.

And still, no milk.

She whimpers against my chest, hurting.

"Here, dear. Try feeding her this."

The old she-wolf on the pallet across from me holds out a warm wooden bowl of grain-mash.

There's real pity in her eyes.

I swallow the lump in my throat and thank her, quiet.

"Where's her father? Why isn't he here looking after the two of you?"

I drop my gaze.

I can't say it out loud. That he's next door. Looking after someone else's pup.

I blow on the mash carefully, cool it down, and bring it to my pup's lips.

"Don't feed her that!"

Thane strides over and knocks the bowl clean out of my hand.

His eyes go cold.

"Do you have any idea her body can't take that yet?"

The hot mash splashes across my thighs.

I flinch and pull my pup away on instinct.

Thane clicks his tongue.

"You're so delicate now you can't even hold a bowl?"

The look in his eyes says it all. He thinks I'm putting on a show.

I bite down on my lip and force the heat out of my eyes.

"Then what am I supposed to do?"

"She's hungry. I ate a few pieces of jerky. I've got nothing to give her."

He frowns.

"Are you blaming me?"

"Whose fault is it you never ate right? No wonder your milk hasn't come in."

Like I chose not to eat.

I couldn't. The whole pregnancy, everything I put in my mouth came back up. The pup's scent inside me made my own wolf sick.

I thought Thane knew. He'd written a whole thick journal of notes on my pregnancy.

I used to feel so warm reading it.

Now I look back at all the little details in there that never matched what I actually went through.

Maybe he wasn't writing about me at all.

Maybe he was writing about Willa.

And I was stupid enough to read those pages over and over like they were love letters.

The tears fall before I can stop them.

Thane's thin mouth presses tight. Finally, his voice softens.

He wipes my tears roughly, almost angry.

"We're in the Den. I can't be seen coddling you. People will say I abuse my rank."

"I'll go bring you a bottle of milk."

"Just this once. Don't make it a habit."

He's gone for a few minutes and then he's back.

"Willa mixed this herself. Drink up."

The bottle is old. Chipped. Like something dug out of a scrap heap.

But I don't have a choice.

I test the temperature against my wrist, then bring it gently to my pup's mouth.

She sucks twice, hard. Then wails.

The milk she spits back up carries a heavy, sour reek.

I fumble for a cloth and clean her mouth as fast as I can.

Thane rubs his nose. His voice slides straight into defending Willa.

"Willa probably mixed it wrong. She didn't mean it."

"And pups are tougher than you think. Stop overreacting."

The words barely leave his mouth.

A soft, trembling mind-link floats in from the next room.

Thane, the baby suddenly won't eat. What do I do?

He's out the door in a heartbeat.

Mind-linking a Pup Care Healer to hurry over as he goes.

Every noble word about "keeping it clean" — gone. Just like that.

He can panic after all.

Just not for us.

I bow my head, useless, and press my cheek against my pup's soft one.

The old she-wolf shuffles closer. She sighs.

"Girl. A mate like that isn't worth keeping."

I nod.

"Yeah. I'm not keeping him."