pork, though we keep some cows and chickens to fill our own tables.”
Silence fell again, so heavy that Jeni's palms actually started to sweat. Which was the absolute height of stupidity , because so what if Hawk's mother disapproved of her? He was a grown man, for Christ's sake. And Jeni had never been ashamed of herself, or of anything she'd done, and she wasn't about to start now.
So why did it matter so much?
Alya stopped at the top of the next rise. Down in the gentle valley before them, people clustered around the new, yellow framework of a small building. The sounds of sawing and hammering drifted up, along with the low drone of conversation and the occasional laugh or shout.
They were too far away for easy recognition, but Jeni spotted Hawk immediately. The way he moved was unmistakable, all leashed strength and control, whether he was raising a support beam into place or climbing into the cage for a fight.
Or touching a woman.
Jeni's cheeks heated. She'd never be able to look at another cluster of trees without picturing the moonlight filtering through the leaves or the shadows melding together to form the illusion of privacy. The association was imprinted on her brain now, along with all the things she'd discovered about Hawk—like the fact that he didn't just crave her submission, he got off on it. Hard.
The whole collar thing made a lot more sense now.
Alya shaded her eyes and stared down the hill. “They're putting up a new house. One of Shipp's boys finally coaxed one of Hawk's sisters into marrying his sorry ass, and we're out of bedrooms again. Bethany and her family are next up to get their own space, so that one'll be hers.”
Jeni still couldn't wrap her brain around how huge the families were. “There are so many children here.”
“My late husband took ten wives. Between us, we gave him fifty-five children. Hawk has forty-three brothers and sisters who made it to adulthood.” Alya dropped her hand and turned back to Jeni. “We didn't have Eden messing with our water, but the bastard still gave us fertility drugs. Twins and triplets were more efficient. More dangerous, but worth the risk. To him.”
It fit all too well with what Hawk had told her about his father. “But you only have Hawk?”
“Oh, they're all my children, more or less.” She smiled, but banked protective fury burned in her eyes. “We say it, and we mean it, for the most part. But I worry about him a little more than the rest. I always will.”
“Right.” Jeni rubbed her hands on her jeans. “You probably have questions.”
“Not so many.” Alya looked back out over the valley. “Hawk's been on his own for damn near twenty years now. So whatever has you so nervous, you should know I don't give a shit. All I care about is seeing him happy.”
There was an unspoken question in there somewhere—or maybe Jeni only heard one because she expected it. “The O'Kanes have a reputation for casual,” she said carefully. “But I think people just don't understand. None of it is casual. Ever.”
“Good, because neither is he.” Alya looked away, her lips tight, her eyes shuttered. “Hawk won't tell you this because he's loyal to a fault, but I was no kind of mother to him. I was too young, and then I was too broken. By the time I was strong enough to protect him, he didn't need it anymore, so no one's ever taken care of him. That's all I want, Jeni. Someone in his life who can take care of him.”
The man she knew was an island, a rock who kept himself carefully apart from the rest of the O'Kanes—whether through preference or necessity or sheer force of habit. “I can try,” she offered, “but I can't make him let me.”
“No,” Alya conceded. “He brought you here, though. That means something.”
“I think so. I hope so.”
“I know so.” Alya finally smiled. “You're the first one, honey. Ever.”
The first woman he'd brought home, maybe, but Luna's words played over and over in her mind. I
Silence fell again, so heavy that Jeni's palms actually started to sweat. Which was the absolute height of stupidity , because so what if Hawk's mother disapproved of her? He was a grown man, for Christ's sake. And Jeni had never been ashamed of herself, or of anything she'd done, and she wasn't about to start now.
So why did it matter so much?
Alya stopped at the top of the next rise. Down in the gentle valley before them, people clustered around the new, yellow framework of a small building. The sounds of sawing and hammering drifted up, along with the low drone of conversation and the occasional laugh or shout.
They were too far away for easy recognition, but Jeni spotted Hawk immediately. The way he moved was unmistakable, all leashed strength and control, whether he was raising a support beam into place or climbing into the cage for a fight.
Or touching a woman.
Jeni's cheeks heated. She'd never be able to look at another cluster of trees without picturing the moonlight filtering through the leaves or the shadows melding together to form the illusion of privacy. The association was imprinted on her brain now, along with all the things she'd discovered about Hawk—like the fact that he didn't just crave her submission, he got off on it. Hard.
The whole collar thing made a lot more sense now.
Alya shaded her eyes and stared down the hill. “They're putting up a new house. One of Shipp's boys finally coaxed one of Hawk's sisters into marrying his sorry ass, and we're out of bedrooms again. Bethany and her family are next up to get their own space, so that one'll be hers.”
Jeni still couldn't wrap her brain around how huge the families were. “There are so many children here.”
“My late husband took ten wives. Between us, we gave him fifty-five children. Hawk has forty-three brothers and sisters who made it to adulthood.” Alya dropped her hand and turned back to Jeni. “We didn't have Eden messing with our water, but the bastard still gave us fertility drugs. Twins and triplets were more efficient. More dangerous, but worth the risk. To him.”
It fit all too well with what Hawk had told her about his father. “But you only have Hawk?”
“Oh, they're all my children, more or less.” She smiled, but banked protective fury burned in her eyes. “We say it, and we mean it, for the most part. But I worry about him a little more than the rest. I always will.”
“Right.” Jeni rubbed her hands on her jeans. “You probably have questions.”
“Not so many.” Alya looked back out over the valley. “Hawk's been on his own for damn near twenty years now. So whatever has you so nervous, you should know I don't give a shit. All I care about is seeing him happy.”
There was an unspoken question in there somewhere—or maybe Jeni only heard one because she expected it. “The O'Kanes have a reputation for casual,” she said carefully. “But I think people just don't understand. None of it is casual. Ever.”
“Good, because neither is he.” Alya looked away, her lips tight, her eyes shuttered. “Hawk won't tell you this because he's loyal to a fault, but I was no kind of mother to him. I was too young, and then I was too broken. By the time I was strong enough to protect him, he didn't need it anymore, so no one's ever taken care of him. That's all I want, Jeni. Someone in his life who can take care of him.”
The man she knew was an island, a rock who kept himself carefully apart from the rest of the O'Kanes—whether through preference or necessity or sheer force of habit. “I can try,” she offered, “but I can't make him let me.”
“No,” Alya conceded. “He brought you here, though. That means something.”
“I think so. I hope so.”
“I know so.” Alya finally smiled. “You're the first one, honey. Ever.”
The first woman he'd brought home, maybe, but Luna's words played over and over in her mind. I
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