The doors were still open, so the cub ran right in.

Heart thundering—this level of his home was high above the ground—Canto leaned down and scooped up the small, furry weight. “What are you doing here?” He nipped the cub’s ear as he’d seen Valentin do; he needed the outlet for his fear, but he made sure not to do it too hard.

The cub made more sounds and snuggled into him.

Holding the cub’s warmth against his chest, Canto forced himself to breathe. What if Payal had been here when this happened? She’d have realized they were in bear country. He knew she wouldn’t have used the information in any ugly way, but he still needed to let Valentin know.

The only reason he’d invited her here was that Denhome was some distance away. Just because he’d decided to move closer to his cousin didn’t mean he actually wanted to live with bears who didn’t know the meaning of personal space.

He’d once put out a sign saying: I don’t want visitors.

It had been replaced by a sign that read: We’re not visitors. We’re bears.

Hilarious.

But baby bears were not allowed out alone in this public-accessible area.

He stroked his hand over the small bear in his arms. A bear who’d begun to tremble. “I have you,” he said roughly, patting its back—he was no expert in affection, but he had eyes; he’d seen how Chaos handled Dima, how Valentin interacted with all the cubs.

“I’ll get you home.” He opened the buttons of his shirt so the cub could lie against his skin—such contact was important to changelings, especially such a small and scared one. “You know you’re safe.” He couldn’t yet recognize most bears in their bear form, but he knew the child must’ve met him when he’d visited Denhome.

Even a lost, scared changeling child wouldn’t have run so joyfully toward a stranger. Kid must’ve caught his scent by the house, come toward it out of panic.

“Come on, let’s go call your pack.” It came out rougher than he’d intended, but the cub didn’t flinch. Used to grumbling bear voices, it snuggled closer to the vibration of his chest and dug small claws into his chest to hold on—but the child was careful not to pierce his skin. This was someone’s baby; they’d been taught their manners.

Spotting the food at that instant, the cub made hungry sounds but didn’t pounce.

He put the cub on the sofa. “Sit here. I’m getting something.” He was aware of the cub getting to its feet and watching him over the top of the sofa as he went into the kitchen. All the counters in the space were hydraulic, so they could be raised or lowered at will. Mostly, they stayed set to the levels he preferred, but the system gave him the flexibility to accommodate Arwen—his cousin loved to cook. Not that a lack of customization had ever stopped Arwen; for Canto’s last place, he’d just gone ahead and bought himself a riser that he’d placed on any surface where he wanted to work standing up.

Stubborn empath.

Now Canto grabbed the jar of hazelnut-chocolate spread that same stubborn empath had bought him. He’d tried it once and nearly died from the sugar overdose.

But the cub jumped happily when he held it up.

Satisfied he was handling this in a way that wouldn’t traumatize the kid, he went back around and shifted himself from his chair to the sofa. The cub immediately snuggled itself to his side, where the child waited patiently while Canto put the spread on a piece of toast.

The cub ate neatly after Canto offered it to him.

He was about to dig out his phone when a much larger figure jumped onto his deck.

Chapter 24

Dear Canto,

Attached is a drawing Dima made for you. He tells me it’s of you if you were a bear. He thinks you would make a good bear. He wanted me to make sure you noticed the stars in the bear’s eyes, because it’s a cardinal bear.

He’s frowning because he didn’t get your bear-sized wheelchair exactly as he wanted, but he is very proud of the rocket he put on the back—so you can “go zoom faster.” He is on tenterhooks awaiting your response.

Love, Nova

—Note from Dima’s mother, Nova, on his behalf

CANTO WAS READY to strike out with his mind, the protective urge pure instinct born of a time when he’d protected another child, but one glance and he stood down. He didn’t much know what to do with small bears, but the man who entered the living area the next second was an expert.

The cub beside Canto abandoned its half-eaten toast on the table and jumped toward Valentin. The bear alpha caught the desperate cub close to his bare chest, his body devoid of clothing. He must’ve been in bear form before shifting to climb up to the deck—Valentin was huge as a bear, and Canto was fairly sure he couldn’t climb in that form.

The alpha bear was currently growling out a stream of Russian. Canto had a good command of the language, enough to know the words were a mix of reassurance and rebuke. The cub clung to Valentin.

Canto, meanwhile, got back in his chair and went to find something Valentin could put around himself. Changelings were confident naked, since they came out of the shift in that state, but Canto hadn’t yet been around them enough to be nonchalant about it. He settled on a large bath towel.

“Spasibo,” Valentin said when Canto emerged with the towel. Leaving the cub to cling to him—the child had half climbed onto his shoulder by this point—Valentin grabbed the towel out of the air when Canto threw it, and wrapped it around his waist.

After which, he kissed the cub on its furry face, then pulled it around to sit on his lap as he took a seat on the sofa. “Eat,” he said, picking up and passing over the half-eaten toast.

Only after the cub was eating with careful paws did Valentin say, “This troublemaker’s family went for a morning walk together, but he decided to wander off while his parents were distracted pulling his twin from a mudhole she’d somehow managed to discover. All my life I’ve lived here and I’ve never found a mudhole that big.” Valentin shook his head. “The cubs have radar.”

When Canto tapped the side of his nose, not sure if he should ask the question aloud, Valentin said, “He’s too young—and he decided to cross a few streams after getting disoriented.”

So his parents couldn’t track him, and the cub’s own sense of smell wasn’t well developed enough to lead him home. Yet Valentin had found him. Because whatever it was that created a pack alpha, it included a wild kind of psychic bond. “His parents must be frantic.”