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panic,” Kade said that evening as he stirred a pot of his homemade
spaghetti sauce. “It’s not like you’re bringing all these new lamia babies
home to live in your house. We’re going to set up a group home for them, with a
live-in staff. You’re their counselor, Lindi, not their mother.”
barstool at the island in the middle of his large kitchen. “That’s the
thing. I’m not sure a group home is the right way to go with these kids.”
idea.” He narrowed his eyes at me and tasted the sauce, then added
something to it. “Janice thinks it’s the best option we have,” he
added, knowing that the leader of the shifters’ Council had been tutoring me in
all things shapeshifter recently, and that her endorsement mattered to me.
the words to explain what I was trying to say.
Kade to understand. Or any words at all. “You’re worried that without a
stable home-life, you won’t be able to give these children the same kind of
emotional training that your parents gave you.”
work. You cannot be completely responsible for the entirety of the lamia
say, how much to share of my own recent insights. “We will have plenty of
other weres stepping in to help raise these kids, lots of people to teach them
how to be solid shifter citizens. But until they’re grown, I will be the only
adult lamia in their lives. I will be the only weresnake they can model
themselves on. That feels like a lot more responsibility than simply being
their counselor. In that sense, I am kind of responsible for the entire lamia
shifters at all,” he pointed out.
almost entirely on my human side. I would like to give these children even
wooden spoon down and made his way around to my side of the counter, where he
spun the seat of my barstool around until I faced him. Then he took my face in
his hands and leaned his forehead against mine. “You’ll do a great job
hadn’t been together long enough for the sense of wonder at his touch to fade.
The sheer heat of our connection didn’t show any signs of abating, either. The
brush of his tongue against mine sent sparks shooting through my veins to pool
in the pit of my stomach. It wouldn’t take much to stoke that heat into a
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About the Author
Bond Collins is addicted to coffee (mmm…caffeine) and SF/F television,
especially Supernatural (mmm…Winchesters).
She writes paranormal and contemporary romance, urban fantasy, and paranormal
mystery. She lives in Texas with her daughter and several spoiled pets.
Although she teaches college-level English courses online, writing fiction is
her first love. She enjoys reading urban fantasy and paranormal fiction of any
genre and spends most of her free time daydreaming about heroes, vampires,
ghosts, werewolves, and the women who love (and sometimes fight) them.
can learn more about her at http://www.MargoBondCollins.net
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