Nicholas
The baby was small and innocent, his tiny face scrunched up tightly as he slept peacefully in my arms. He was beautiful, perfect in every way, and yet…
I felt nothing.
No, that wasn’t entirely true. I felt something, but it wasn’t joy or pride or the overwhelming love I had expected to feel when holding my child for the first time. It was confusion. And a complete and utter lack of recognition.
The baby’s eyes were a soft, pale blue—nothing like my amber or Anna’s dark brown. And while he was small, he didn’t look like a premature baby. He was too big for that, too well-formed.
But most of all, I could feel the certainty coiling in my gut like a snake. Even my wolf didn’t recognize his own kin, his own blood. This baby was a stranger.
Anna was prattling aw
