She didn’t worry about Jacob, because, through their bond, she would know if the orphan boy was hurt. No, she worried about Diego. She worried that he wasn’t thinking clearly, that he might put himself in danger. She worried that he couldn’t handle that she came with attachments, that she had kids who depended upon her emotionally. She worried that her love for him wouldn’t be enough. It was evening before the locks on the doors slid open one by one, and relief swept over Haiku. Diego had come back, and they could deal with the other issues together. The door swung wide. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, but she didn’t, as his jerky movements told her he wasn’t pleased. Instead she hovered close to him. “He had no scent.” Diego tossed his leather gloves on the kitchen counter. “The kid had no scent. How is that possible? Who the hell is he, Haiku?” “I don’t know.” She didn’t know much about her children, as they came to her so young. They hadn’t the ability to tell her about their backgrounds.
