Dark Lycan (Carpathian)

“Is?”—father. She scowled at him, yet somehow managed to pout at the same time. “I coulda made it.”


“Anya.” Gregori used his sternest voice. “I told you to stop trying to jump from the top of the slide to the playhouse.”

Fen pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. The slide was no more than two feet off the ground and the playhouse roof wasn’t much taller. Little Anya didn’t seem intimidated by her father at all, not even when he was holding her high off of the ground, his silver eyes glaring directly into hers. Her dark, curly hair bounced around her head like a halo, framing her little pixie face. Her eyes, as light as her father’s, grew stormy. She lifted her chin defiantly.

“I’m not a baby like Sandu. I can do it.”

Mikhail lowered his voice. “The girls call Alexandru, Sandu.” He said it just loud enough that Gregori could hear and know they were watching. Amusement was uppermost in the prince’s tone. “The twins are only a couple of weeks older than he is, but they like to think they’re years ahead. He’s bigger than both of them.”

“Is?,” the second little girl said. “If we can’t jump, can we float? You know we’re really good at floating.”

Gregori cast a glare over his shoulder at Mikhail, turned back to his daughter and sighed. He reached down and picked her up. “Anastashia, I thought we talked about this. You need adult supervision when you’re trying things, even floating. It’s dangerous.”

“How can they talk already?” Tatijana asked. “Isn’t that advanced even for our children?”

“They were born very gifted,” Raven admitted. “They speak ancient Carpathian as well as several other languages. Well . . . I should clarify. They understand the languages and know many words and use sentences. As far as what they can do at such a young age, they’re giving us gray hair.”

Mikhail tugged on Raven’s hair. “I don’t see any gray.”

She laughed softly. “Lucky for me I’m Carpathian and I don’t turn gray, although with those two little girls I just might anyway.” She gestured toward the twins. “They were born early and were in separate incubators. Barely alive, they floated from one to the other, determined to stay together. In the end, there was nothing we could do so we let them stay together. Gregori’s had his hands full ever since.”

“That Anya, she’s a little daredevil,” Tatijana said.

Fen could tell she was proud of the little girl. He imagined Tatijana would have been like Anya, wanting to try everything.

Raven nodded. “If she was a boy, Gregori wouldn’t have any problem allowing her to try to jump from the slide to the playhouse roof, but he has this thing about his girls.”

“How’s that working out for him?” Mikhail asked, nuzzling the top of Raven’s head.

“You aren’t going to find it so funny when our son starts defying you to do dangerous things,” Raven pointed out, but she laughed softly when she said it and rubbed her head along his chest affectionately. “Little Miss Anya is far too adventurous. I think she’d try shapeshifting if anyone gave her half a chance.”

“She probably already has,” Mikhail pointed out.

“Bite your tongue,” Raven said.

Fen found himself genuinely laughing at Gregori’s predicament. He was tall, broad-shouldered and much respected in the Carpathian world. When he spoke everyone listened. Next to Mikhail, Gregori’s word was law, yet his twin girls, barely two, defied him. With them, he was patient and gentle, although firm, not that it seemed to do him any good with little Anya. She was obviously adventurous.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Tatijana asked.

“Terrifying, though,” Fen said. “If we have children, sívamet, let’s try for boys. If the girls turn out like you, I’ll definitely have a heart attack before they’re grown.”

Tatijana laughed, turning to Raven. “Men. They’re such babies when it comes to children. What’s your Alexandru like? You’ve given him a fine name. It means defender of all mankind, doesn’t it?”

Raven nodded. “It’s a lot for a little boy to live up to.”