Page 10 of King Luna

“See you later, Mom and Mommy,” Noah echoes, helping me model for Lexi what to say with a small wave. Except, coming from him, these words widen Kira’s and Amy’s eyes in unison. Dropping his head in a flustered giggle, Noah pushes the four of us adults over the edge, laughing as Amy and Kira dash down their apartment steps.

“I’m not forgetting that for a long time.” With a wide grin, Kira drags Amy along faster. “We’ll be back in a few hours!”

Amy waves to Lexi. “Have fun with your Auntie and Uncle, Lexi! We love you!”

Lexi waves back with a sad, quiet whisper. “Love you.”

As we close and lock the front door, I try my best to remain calm. But I can’t help myself; I brace for the inevitable, my heart already wrenching into my throat at Lexi’s potent, pained scent.

Fetching Mr. Wolfy—Lexi’s favorite stuffed toy, a fuzzy gray wolf with massive eyes and long, floppy legs—Noah opens his mouth to speak. But before Noah can say a single word, Lexi’s little face scrunches into an agonized grimace. The first gut-wrenching cry she lets out hits my soul so deep that my eyes burn hot; the grief in her scent is unlike anything I’ve felt in my preschoolers when they’re homesick.

“Oh, my love... I know, you’re so sad.” I rub Lexi’s back, rocking us gently.

“They’ll be back soon. We’re right here with you, okay?” Noah pats Lexi’s tears with his sleeve, his voice so soft that my chest fills with grief alongside Lexi—Noah’s serenity allowing my body to express deeper emotions.

Poor Lexi’s tears shift into screams.

But this isn’t something we can just take away. Lexi’s not only crying over missing Amy and Kira, she’s crying because her first parental bond with her biological parents was ruptured when they were killed. Whenever Kira or Amy leave, it reminds her of this deep, never-ending wound in her young heart.

My heart gallops, a sweet, comforting scent rushing from me in an attempt to soothe her.

But with my scent comes a trace of my anxiety and pain permeating the air. What if I’m amplifying Lexi’s fear, no matter how much I shush and cradle her?

“Hey, hey, you’re okay. While we wait, let’s play together. Or maybe we can watch a movie? You love that rabbit movie still, right? With Bun Bun?” Noah’s deep, rumbling voice extends past Lexi’s desperate cries, but not even the mention of Lexi’s beloved Bun Bun grabs her attention.

“Oh, Noah, she’ssoheartbroken,” I whisper.

“I know. Poor sweetheart.” Noah joins me in stroking Lexi’s back. She cries to the absolute depths of her ability, her sobs so vicious that fear strikes my core, the grating tone to her voice begging my primal instincts to ease her suffering.

Noah isn’t just comforting Lexi now; one of his wide hands smooths warmth over my back too.

Dammit. He must be noticing my internal freak-out. We were prepared for Lexi to potentially react like this the first time her new moms left the house together, so why can’t I keep it together?

A flood of Noah’s protective scent fills the air, softening Lexi’s cries. But it’s only momentary; her next scream is sharp enough to send her into a coughing fit.

“Oh, Lex, I’msosorry.” I sit us down at Amy’s kitchen table, shifting Lexi in my arms to hold her chest to chest. Noah smooths Lexi’s curls back into a ponytail, blowing cold air on the back of her neck—attempting to calm her flaming red skin. But as Noah speed-walks across the kitchen, preparing a damp towel for Lexi’s forehead, her little body quivers hard in my arms, wrenching at my soul as she grips me tight. When Noah turns around, his eyebrows warp in shared pain.

Glancing up at Noah with wide eyes, I feel lost. My breath shortens as I cradle Lexi’s head to my shoulder, my insides somersaulting with Lexi’s loud, heaving cries. I’m supposed to be the experienced caregiver here, but the harder Lexi cries, the more panic I feel; I understand her better than ever. Now that Noah and I are preparing the rest of our lives to include our baby, I miss my parents more than I can withstand.

Amy and Kira don’t know what exactly Lexi experienced on the day her parents died, but as Noah smooths slow, sweeping touches down her back, keeping his voice soft for her, my eyes water alongside hers. The sharp sting of trauma emits from her scent; Lexi witnessed something horrible as she lost them, even if she can’t remember the details. Amy and Kira have mentioned how hard it was to console Lexi in the first couple of months she came home with them, but I underestimated how deeply it’d hurt my heart tonight, no matter my professional experience.

Like Lexi, I know my loved ones might never come back home.

“I don’t know how to help,” I whisper.

Noah nods. “Keep holding her. She needs time to process this abrupt change in her safe space.”

As Noah stands over us, wrapping us in his big arms, I grip him tight. What if he dies from one of these violent Alpha attacks too, and we leave our future pups behind like Lexi? I never want our kids to feel like this.

But just before I slip into deeper fear, a cozy, sweet scent washes over my skin, drawing a pleased sigh from my lips.

Noah tenses above us, a flash of surprise crashing through our bond.

Oh, my God. This scent isNoah’s.

He’s emitting that rare, Omega-like scent I’ve smelled from him before. It’s beyond comforting, wrapping me in a nourishing warmth that seeps all the way into my aching heart—like he’scradling it until all the pain in me washes away. I slump in relief, but Noah takes an uneasy step back, his chest tight.

“S-sorry,” he whispers. “I d-don’t know why— Uh—”

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