"I, I want to give her a chance," she said uncertainly. "I really do. I'm just-"
"Just follow your heart, Mist," he said, putting a paw over her mouth to silence her. "You took her in when she needed you, and when you did that, you overcame your fear. She trusts you. She stays with you because she loves you, and she's been trying to get through to you. There's no reason to be afraid of trusting Kimmie. If there's anyone in the world that's always been there for you, it's probably her."
"I know," she said in a groaning voice, laying back on the bed and putting her paw to her forehead.
"You can put your trust in a complete stranger, but you can't trust your own daughter? Excuse me if I sound rude, but that's mean."
"Alright!" she said in a ferocious snap. "You're making me regret this, Tarrin."
"Liar," he teased with a light smile.
"Don't you call me a liar, you half-whelped kitten," she shot back, but there was no animosity in her voice. She was being playful! "I certainly don't regret taking you for mate. I forgot how sweet it could be."
"And I'm injured," he said enticingly. "You'll find a strapping, tall Were-cat with a nice body, and-"
"No," she said. "Not a stranger. Not like that. Not someone I can't trust."
"You're just painting yourself into a corner again, Mist," he sighed. "If you can't trust your own kin, who can you trust?"
"You," she said emphatically. "I can trust you. I think I can trust Kimmie too."
He realized that arguing with her would be pointless. She still wouldn't be receptive to the idea of opening up to her kin. That would be a job more suited to the patient Kimmie. All Tarrin could do was make her more amenable to the ideas that Kimmie would certainly plant into her. He realized that when it came to Mist, even a less feral Mist, anyone who wanted to be close to her would have to prove themselves to her. Until they did that, then she would be just as she was before.
"You don't mind, do you? Being my mate for a while?" Mist asked.
"For the thirtieth time, no," he said in a bit of exasperation. "I like you, Mist. Don't give me a reason to doubt that now."
"I like you too," she replied. "Can I sleep here? I don't want to be alone. Not tonight."
"Mist, you can sleep with me any time," he said gently as he looked down at her, stroking her cheek with a furred finger.
She gave him a shy smile, then the texture of her scent changed in a way that he found strangely appealing. "I won't be quite so rough this time," she promised in a husky voice, her arms looping around him very gingerly, intensely aware of the injury to his chest. She pulled him down to her carefully, then she kissed him with a passion that made him immediately surrender to her desire.
GoTo: Title EoF
Chapter 11
"Cub, you're something else, do you know that?" Triana asked conversationally early the next morning.
It was some time past sunrise. Mist had left him just before dawn, while he was sleeping. She probably couldn't much fathom the idea of having him wake up with her. She was so anti-social, what had passed between them probably baffled her, and she was most likely afraid of it. To keep from having to look at him and answer any uncomfortable questions, to admit to herself that she had did what she did, she snuck off. He could appreciate it. It was an entire plethora of new emotions and feelings for her, and she needed some time to sort things out.
Tarrin was standing by the window, looking out over the tiled roofs of Shoran's Fork. His room had quite a view, standing on a rise that overlooked the river, so the slate and gray of Var Denom rose up on the other side of the wide, sluggish river. Despite his exercise from the night before, he felt remarkably well refreshed and energetic. The wound in his chest was down to nothing more than minor discomfort, easily ignored, though it did tend to bite at him when he moved.
It just felt so good to be standing. Days and days in that bed had taken its toll on him, and he didn't want to lay down or sit down, not when he could stand. Not when he could move. He would accept the pain of it just to be able to do it. He was rubbing at a wrist absently, trying to get used to feeling fur rather than steel, looking down on the residents of Shoran's Fork as they went about their morning activities.
"Not really, mother," he replied in a half-attentive voice, watching a tall, rather wide matron woman carrying a large basket up the street. She looked alot like Matron Luci from Aldreth. Luci, the wife of Gart the miller, a round woman who was renowned through the village for the many types of bread and pastries she could bake.
"I don't like being ignored, cub," Triana said in a frosty voice, a voice that made him turn and look at her immediately. "That's better. As I was saying, do you have any idea how long we've tried to get Mist to open up?"
"Probably a while," he said. "I'm just glad she's alright. She is alright, isn't she?"
"She's fine. She's out with Kimmie. I have the feeling the two of them are going to have a long talk today. Just as soon as Mist finds the courage to break the ice with her. It's about time," she grunted. "She probably won't be bothering you again the way she did last night. I cheated a bit on her last night to make her more likely to conceive. That happened."
"You mean-"
"She's pregnant," she nodded. "Or she will be in about ten hours."
"How can she not be pregnant? She either is or she isn't."
"It's complicated, cub. Just take it on faith that she'll be comfortably pregnant in about ten hours."
He wasn't quite sure how to feel about that. Having Mist right there made it all perfectly logical last night. But this was this morning. The simple fact of it was that he was going to be a father. He wasn't married, Mist wasn't even a girlfriend, and she was going to have his baby. But it really wasn't his. Were-cat males took no responsibility for parenting. The females managed all that. The baby was Mist's, he was just the sire. But it was hard for his human morals to rectify that in his mind. He did feel responsible for the baby. It was his, and he felt it right and proper to have a hand-or paw, as it were-in the child's rearing. But he doubted Mist would stand for that, and his mission was too important to take twenty years off to raise and nurture a child. It was best for both of them if Mist took her infant and raised it in her own way, and out of his sight. He had little doubt that the fights they would have over what to teach the child would be legendary. Both of them didn't know when to back down.
"I can say that doubts would be normal for you," Triana said, seeming to read his mind. "But it's not our way to let the males meddle with how we raise our cubs. That's not what's important, anyway. You've wedged your foot in the door with her. She trusts you, cub. That's something I didn't think she'd ever do. The best I ever hoped for her was that she could find a way to be friends with some of us, even if the friendships were wary, the way her relationship works with Kimmie."
"I had a long talk with her about that last night," he said as she approached him. "I think she'll be more open with Kimmie now."
"I know she will," she said. "You did something that nobody else could do, cub. I'm proud of you for that."
Tarrin blushed, and shyly looked away from Triana's eyes. "I didn't do it for you, mother. I did it for Mist."
"And that's why I'm so proud of you. I know it wasn't easy on you to do that. Well, maybe it was," she grinned. "Jesmind told me that you're not shy at all once you commit to-"
"I know," he said quickly, cutting her off.
"All of that aside, it was exactly what Mist needed. I think she'll be just fine now."
"That's really all that matters. I just hope she'll let me see the baby."