16
KOJO
Kendra does not let go of Zaki right away. I watch from the doorway as my sister stands with her arms held slightly out from her sides, rigid. Then, slowly, her arm comes around Kendra’s shoulders, and something in Zaki’s posture changes from the outside in, a long careful exhale that she has been holding.
She fears losing us,my Bouda says, low and certain, watching what I watch.You must reassure her, Alemayehu. She does not understand yet that we are not leaving.I will, when the moment allows it.
For now I turn my attention to the woman moving through the cabin behind us. She carries Kade’s scent on her skin. There is a claim mark at her throat, and the warmth in her eyes when she looks at Kade across the room is the particular warmth of someone who has chosen and been chosen in return. I have heard of Leah many times, as Kade’s name passes through every supernatural network eventually, always accompanied by this one. But I have never stood in the same room with her until now.
She is already moving toward me before I finish the thought, appearing at my elbow with her vampire speed. Her bright brown eyes travel up my frame, and she pauses once at my back.
“Oh,” she says, tilting her head. The measuring tape stops. She pulls her notepad from her apron pocket and makes a small notation, studying the ridge visible through my ruined shirt. “I’m going to need to reach out to Jackie.”
“Who is Jackie?”
“Wintermoon’s seamstress.” Leah resumes her circuit, the tape flashing around my shoulders, my chest, dropping to my waist. Her speed is such that I track the motion more by the whisper of the tape than by sight, and I have very good sight. “She specializes in glow ups. Your ridge is going to need custom cuts in everything.” She steps back, jots her numbers, and moves without transition toward Zaki.
Zaki’s ridge calcifies immediately, and from the table Kendra makes a sound she quickly covers with her hand.
“No,” Zaki says.
“Don’t worry,” Leah says, entirely unbothered.
“I make my own garments.” Zaki smooths her palms down the front of her clothing. The fabric is stiff in places, the color altered at the hem and along her forearms, but she carries herself like its condition is entirely beside the point.
Leah looks at the fabric, then looks at Zaki. “You’ll wear something temporary until I can get Jackie here.” Her tone is pleasant. “Arms up.”
She does not wait. She starts moving, the tape appearing and disappearing around Zaki’s frame so fast that even I lose the individual passes. Zaki endures it with annoyance. Kendra smiles
Kade moves through the kitchen, setting several tall pitchers of water on the counter without breaking stride. The sound pulls Zaki and me to attention in the same instant, our heads turningtogether. My Bouda comes forward before I consciously register the pull, and I feel Zaki shift her weight beside me, the same pull answering in her. We are Bouda. We require more water in a single day than most humans consume.
Kendra’s stomach announces itself. A low, decisive sound that carries clearly across the quiet room.
We need to feed her,my Bouda says, and all the commentary is gone from his voice.Our mate is hungry. Now, Alemayehu.
I look down at myself. The snow drew most of it off my arms and feet on the walk from the truck, but my shirt carries it still, dark in the creases. My pants are damp with it. Zaki’s clothing is worse.
Leah steps back from Zaki, satisfied, and Kendra yelps when Leah disappears. No warning, black smoke curling where she stood and already thinning.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that.” Kendra shakes her head.
She kicks her boots off at the foot of the table and walks into the kitchen in her socks. She turns the tap on, adjusts the temperature, and washes her hands. The soap lathers between her fingers. She rinses it clean, shakes the water off, reaches for the paper towel beside the sink.
Kade passes us on her way out of the kitchen. The look she gives me as she goes is brief and entirely pointed.
Our mate practices good hygiene,my Bouda notes.We could make a favorable impression by following her example.
Kendra dries her hands, drops the towel, and walks back out of the kitchen. She pauses at the edge of it, brow furrowed, and turns back to look at us.
Zaki reaches the sink at the same moment I do. We arrive together, and for three long seconds we are two adult Bouda standing in a small kitchen doorway with our shoulders pressed to either side of the frame, neither of us willing to yield.
“Women first,” Zaki says. “Always.”
I frown. She is not wrong. I step back, some instinct that does not yield easily while our mate is unfed in the next room. I look to Kendra over my shoulder. She has her arms crossed, her head dropped, and she makes a sound through her nose.
“You can work out the politics of your clan later.” Kade reappears in the kitchen doorway. “How about someone gets something to eat.” She looks at Kendra. “Majesty.”
Black smoke appears at the center of the room before Leah does, and she arrives already moving, both arms buried in bags she drops to the floor. Kendra fans the smoke away and turns back to the table, going through the food like someone who is genuinely hungry and not performing about it.