Kira was at her range when I came through the door.
She heard me — the specific recognition, the bloodline attunement that meant she always knew my step from anyone else's in the compound. But she did not turn immediately. She finished what she was doing at the stove with the focused economy of someone who believed that whatever was coming could wait for the food to be properly attended to.
Then she turned.
She looked at my face.
Her hand stilled on the counter.
"You know," I said.
"I suspected," she said. "Since last night. The quality of the bond." She held my gaze steadily. "The bloodline carries it differently in the first weeks. A warmth that the pack bond doesn't account for." She paused. "I didn't say anything because it wasn't mine to say first."
I came into the kitchen.
Sa
