She’s dreaming, I reply, leaning against him. I reach into the crib, gently stroking her cheek. Her skin is warm, radiating a faint, golden heat. As my finger touches her, a ripple of pure, unadulterated joy floods through the bond. It is not my joy. It is hers.
She opens her eyes. They are entirely silver, no pupil, no iris, just a pool of liquid moonlight. She looks at me, and then at Kade. She does not cry. She simply smiles, a tiny, gummy expression that sends a shockwave of love straight through my nervous system.
She knows us, Kade thinks, his mental voice thick with emotion. She’s always known us.
She knows everything, I correct him softly, both aloud and in my mind. She’s connected to the architecture.
A soft knock at the door breaks the quiet.
Morgan steps in, holding a sleek
