Page 25 of Enchanted with the Orc
“Because it’s a lot of responsibility,” I explained, shading the pink darker across the unicorn’s horn. “And right now, we’re not in a place where we’d have the time or energy to give it what it needs.”
I was tense, waiting to hear her response while Tasia pretended not to listen from where she was making lunch. I saw her trying to smother a smile, anddamn it, I wanted to see it spread across her perfect face so badly I didn’t know how to stop myself from staring at her.
Keeping my gaze trained on the unicorn instead, I waited, bracing myself for our daughter’s response.
“I have energy,” she said with a nod, as if that was the end of the argument. I parted my lips to respond, but Tasia made her way over, plates in hand as she put them at the end of the table.
“No pets,” she told our Gruk-ir with a firm voice that said it was her final answer. I watched her little face scrunch with annoyance and my heart jolted in my chest.
“Well—” I started and stern brown eyes swung my way as my beautiful mate gave me her full, peeved attention. I cut myself off with a small squeak, ducking my head to continue coloring.
“Mommy—” Gabbi started, her voice holding a high-pitched whine that I’d never heard before and I drew in a sharp breath as her lower lip trembled.
My gaze moved to Tasia at once, determined to argue on behalf of our daughter—if she would let me speak. She ducked next to our Gruk-ir instead, tucking her little braid behind her ear.
“Remember what I said about pets, sweetheart?” she asked in a low, sweet voice.
“Not until we have a forever home,” Gabbi huffed, rolling her eyes with annoyance.
“Exactly,” Tasia whispered, “And we’re not there yet. As soon as we are—”
“Butwhen?” Gabbi interrupted her, that lower lip trembling again and I was almost blue in the face from holding my breath. I knew without a doubt that if I released it, I would say something stupid likeof course we can get a lizardand it would ruin what my mate was aiming for.
“Hopefully soon,” she told her in a low, tired voice, and I exhaled now, the breath leaving me when I was kicked in the chest by her expression.
She’s fed up of not having a real home.
I had every single intention of giving her that. There was no way that I was going to sit back while she scrambled to find safety on her own. I would take care of her. I just had to convince her that I was a safe bet.
Swallowing back the impassioned argument I had planned in the back of my head—that included an elaborate proposal and then finding a random lizard outside to gift to our Gruk-ir—I continued coloring the unicorn.
When a plate was placed in front of me, I looked up with a surprised smile. I met Tasia’s gaze and she returned it.
“Thank you for breakfast,” she whispered in a sweet, intimate voice—that immediately made me picture us tangled in the sheets of the big bed in the other room. “I hope you like mac and cheese. It’s Gabbi’s favorite.”
Our little girl nodded, her own coloring abandoned as she began shoveling a tiny plastic forkful of the bright orange food into her mouth, shoving aside the tiny green piece of broccoli that her mother had clearly tried to sneak into it.
“The best,” Gabbi stated, her mouth full as she spoke.
“Manners,” my mate told her with a stern frown, but Gabbi just smacked her lips with a happy little wiggle as she continued to eat,ignoring her.
I carefully set aside the coloring sheets and crayons I’d been using before taking a testing bite of the neon-looking food, and frowned at the burst of flavors on my tongue. It was a texture that I wasn’t expecting. Stickier than it looked. I chewed thoughtfully before shoveling another mouthful into my face.
“This isreallygood,” I murmured, scarfing down the rest of the food on my plate before glancing up. Both my mate and our Gruk-ir were staring at me, giving me slow blinks.
Gruk-ir decided that it was the perfect moment to drop her tiny fork and use her hands to shovel her food into her mouth—still avoiding the little piece of broccoli on the side.
“Gabbi,” Tasia gasped, reaching out to stop her hand from where it was going to her mouth with another fistful of her food. “Don’t do that,” she admonished.
I watched our Gruk-ir’s brow furrow and held my breath, waiting for the fallout. She threw her little fist in my direction, orange bits splattering my previously pristine shirt.
“Abu ate it like this!” she cried, her frustration clear in her voice. “I can eat it like this, too!” The demand for understanding was obvious, but her mother had already grabbed her hand, gently prying her little fingers open and putting her plate under it so the noodles fell onto it instead of the floor.
“Gabbi, he ate with a fork,” Tasia said, holding her by her hand and walking her toward the bathroom. “You can’t eat with your hands. I’ve told you so many times…”
As my mate’s voice got quieter as she walked through the bedroom toward their goal, I felt heat rush to my cheeks as I marveled at what had just happened.
I’d eaten too quickly and our Gruk-ir—our daughter—had mimickedme. Panic filled my chest as I realized that the sweet, perfect little girl could copy any of my bad habits and take them on as her own.
