Chapter 181

Time moved differently, measured not by calendars but by transformations. My serpent daughters were six months old now, their blue-green hair growing thicker, their emerald eyes sharper, their human forms becoming as natural to them as their scales had once been.

Levy, Niku, and Sikai had reached ten months, their bodies growing stronger, their personalities becoming more defined. Levy had appointed herself official guardian of Theo, a role she took with deadly seriousness, intercepting any female who came within ten paces of him with the efficiency of a seasoned warrior. Niku and Sikai had become inseparable partners in mischief, they were the same age, ten months old, only older than Levy by mere minutes, a fact that Levy never let them forget. She bullied them mercilessly about those minutes, declaring that she was practically their age, practically entitled to everything they had.

"You’re not older," she would tell them, her chin lifted in challenge. "You’re just early. Like a sneeze. A mistake. A hiccup in time."

"We are older," Niku would insist, his voice strained.

"By minutes," Levy would dismiss with a wave of her hand. "Minutes don’t count. Hours count. Months count. Years count. Minutes are nothing."

"Minutes are something," Sikai would argue, his brow furrowed. "They’re time. Time is real."

"Your face is real," Levy would counter, nonsensical but effective, leaving the boys confused and defeated.

Despite her bullying, or perhaps because of it, the three of them had formed an alliance of convenience and genuine affection. They played together, fought together, and had recently taken to playing the protective older siblings together, forming a united front against anyone who looked at their younger sisters with too much interest.

The cheetah cubs, Tavren, Kaizen, and Zarek, were eight months old, their spotted coats sleek in the island sun, their speed becoming legendary among the children. They raced everywhere, challenged everyone, and had developed a particular rivalry with the sea lion pups that resulted in daily competitions that left everyone exhausted and laughing.

The cheetahs won every race on land, their spotted bodies blurring across the sand, leaving the sea lion pups coughing in their dust. But in the water, the sea lions reigned supreme, their sleek forms cutting through the waves while the cheetahs splashed and flailed and sank like stones.

Tavren, Kaizen, and Zarek became the sorest of losers when the sea lions won.

"That doesn’t count," Tavren would declare, shaking water from his fur with indignant fury. "It’s not a real race. Real races happen on land. We’re land beast. In water, everything is slow and wet and wrong."

"You’re just slow," the sea lion pups would taunt, floating effortlessly on their backs. "Slow like a rock. Heavy like a rock. Drowning like a rock."

"We don’t drown," Zarek would protest, though they had, multiple times, requiring rescue by amused adults. "We sink with dignity. That’s different."

"Very different," Kaizen would agree, his fur plastered to his body, his dignity in tatters. "Cats are land creatures. Noble. Fast. Dry. Water is for fish. And sea lions. And other less impressive creatures."

"Less impressive?" the sea lion pups would laugh. "We just beat you. Three times. In a row. That’s impressive."

"Land," Tavren would insist, stomping his foot on the sand. "Next race on land. Where we win."

"Scared of water?" the pups would tease.

"Respectful of our nature," the cheetahs would correct, stalking away with their tails high, their egos bruised, their fur dripping.

They would challenge again the next day. And lose again. And complain again. And plan revenge again. It was their cycle, their ritual, their endless, optimistic, doomed rivalry.

And my four oldest, my lions, my first babies, Atlas, Chase, Ryder, and Jasper, were two months shy of their second birthday. Two years old. The thought made my heart ache with pride and nostalgia. They were so big now, so capable, so fiercely protective of their younger siblings that I sometimes forgot they were still children themselves. They were almost as big as their fathers. In their man form they look to be about Theo’s age. Fifteen or sixteen. Although in about half a year Theo too would be fully an adult. At eighteen in man form and three years in his beast form.

I was six months pregnant, my belly round and heavy, the Mer child within me growing stronger every day. In two months, when my oldest cubs celebrated their second birthday, my second litter turning one years old, I would give birth. The symmetry felt right, felt destined, a closing of one circle and the beginning of another.

Life had settled into a rhythm of peace. The children adapted, the household functioned, my mates and I found balance in the chaos. I spent my mornings in the water, my afternoons with the children, my evenings surrounded by family. It was good. It was right.

Then a potential threat was making their way to the island. Mirena’s deranged cousin, Khemari.

---

"He’s coming back," Mirena told me, her voice low, her dark eyes serious. We stood in her hut, away from listening ears, the woven walls providing privacy. "My cousin. From the southern lands. He sent word ahead. He’ll arrive in four months, once he’s finished tying up loose ends."

I watched her face, reading the tension there, the worry she tried to hide behind her usual mask of confidence. "Darius mentioned him once. Said there was bad blood."

"Bad blood," Mirena repeated, her laugh sharp and humorless. "That’s one way to put it. Khemari believes he should have inherited this tribe. That the leadership was stolen from him. That Darius is an imposter, a pretender, an unworthy male holding a throne that belongs to him."

"He challenged Darius?"

"Years ago. Before you knew us. Before Rhonda. Khemari thought he could take the tribe by force. He gathered supporters, made promises, spread lies about Darius’s weakness." Mirena’s jaw tightened. "Darius defeated him. Publicly. Humiliatingly. We thought good riddance when Khemari left for the southern lands to find a mate and lick his wounds. But this is his home. He never stopped believing it belongs to him."

"Now he’s returning," I said.

Mirena nodded, her expression grave. "And he’s not the same male who left. The south changed him. Hardened him. Made him cruel in ways he wasn’t before." She turned to me, her amber eyes meeting mine. "He’s evil, Krys. Not just ambitious, not just angry. Evil. He leads females on, makes promises he has no intention of keeping. He takes what he wants and discards what he doesn’t. And he doesn’t care if a female is mated. He doesn’t care about bonds, about loyalty, about anything except his own desires."

I felt a chill despite the warmth of the hut. "He sounds dangerous." In fact, I had met beasts like him before. Ken, Rina’s cousin, who had tried to claim me without consent. The cheetah leader we encountered on our journey here, who had offered pleasure without commitment, who saw females as possessions to be claimed rather than people to be respected.

"He’s shameless," Mirena said, the word dripping with disgust. "You’re a beautiful woman, Krys. Striking. Unforgettable. And he will see that. He’ll see you, see what you are, that you’re mated to many, carrying another, and he won’t care in the slightest. He’ll want you anyway. He’ll try to take you anyway. Because that’s what he does. He sees, he wants, he takes. And he never considers the word no as an answer."

"And if he can’t take?"

"Then he destroys," she said simply. "Be careful, Krys. Stay close to your mates. Don’t let him corner you. Don’t let him charm you. He’s very good at charming. At making you feel like you’re the only one, the special one, the one he’s been waiting for." She laughed, bitter. "He made one of my close friends feel that way. Used her for her body, then discarded her like nothing. His own father cut him off for disrespecting the way of the beast god. Then his mother died. The tribe believes it was retribution from the beast god."

I didn’t believe in that notion. Rina’s cousin had tried to force me in the southern tribe, and he had died for it, but that was Caelion’s doing, not divine punishment. The beast gods, if they existed, seemed content to let mortals sort out their own justice.

I reached for her hand, squeezed it. "Thank you for warning me."

"Thank me by staying safe," she said. "By not becoming another story he tells about the females he conquered."

I went back home, my mind heavy with Mirena’s warning, my thoughts tangled with worry about what was coming. I needed to tell my mates, needed to prepare them, needed to make sure we were all ready for this new threat.

But I never got the chance.

Because when I walked through the door of our house, I walked into the middle of a war.

Atlas stood on one side of the main room, his small body rigid with outrage, his golden hair practically standing on end with indignation. He was nearly two, and he had discovered the concept of logic. He wielded it like a weapon, with all the subtlety of a charging bull.

"That’s not how it works," he was saying, his voice tight with the effort of being reasonable. "That’s not how any of this works."

"Is too," Levy countered, standing opposite him with her hands on her hips, her chin lifted in defiance. She was ten months old, smaller than him, but she made up for it with sheer force of will. "I said so. That makes it true."

"You can’t just say things and make them true," Atlas protested. "That’s not... words don’t work that way."

"They do when I say them," Levy declared.

"What’s happening?" I asked, looking from one to the other, trying to understand the battlefield I had entered.

Atlas turned to me with the relief of a male who believed reinforcements had arrived. "Mama, Levy says Theo can’t have a mate. Ever. She says he’s not allowed. But that’s not how the world works. When he comes of age, he’ll find a mate. That’s the way of things. That’s what males do. They grow up, they find mates, they bond. She can’t just... she can’t just claim him and keep him forever. That’s not... it’s not..."

"It’s exactly what I’m doing," Levy interrupted, her voice carrying across the room with absolute certainty. "I claimed him. He’s mine. No one else can have him. That’s the rule."

"It’s not a rule," Atlas said, his voice rising. "There’s no such rule. You made it up."

"I made it up, so it’s a rule," Levy said, as if this explained everything.

Chase, Ryder, and Jasper stood behind Atlas, nodding in solemn agreement with their brother. Niku and Sikai stood with them, looking confused by the argument but instinctively aligning with the older boys against Levy’s unreasonable demands. They had learned that when Levy got that particular look in her eye, it was safer to be on the side of sanity, even if they didn’t fully understand what was happening.

Theo sat in the corner, trying to become invisible, his face the color of a ripe tomato, his eyes fixed on the floor as if it held the secrets of the universe.

"Levy," I said, keeping my voice gentle. "Sweetheart, Atlas is right. Theo will grow up. He’ll come of age. He might want to find a mate. That’s normal. That’s natural. You can’t... you can’t keep him from that."

"Yes I can," Levy said, her lower lip trembling, but her voice steady. "I can keep him. I will keep him. He’s my friend. My best friend. He promised. Friends forever. That means forever. Not until he finds someone else. Forever."

"Levy," Atlas said, his voice softening slightly, trying a different approach. "I’m not saying he won’t be your friend. I’m saying... when he’s eighteen, in man form, he’ll want... he’ll need..."

"What?" Levy demanded. "What will he need?"

"A mate," Atlas said. "Someone to bond with. To be with. To... to..."

"To what?" Levy’s eyes narrowed.

Atlas’s face turned red. He knew things, at nearly two years old Atlas has heard things, but he didn’t know how to say them. "To... be close to. To... share a den with. To..."

"To mate with," Chase supplied, helpful and disastrous.

"Yes," Atlas said, grateful. "To mate with."

Levy was quiet for a long moment. The room held its breath. Even the serpent girls, coiled in their basket, seemed to be listening.

Then Levy smiled. It was not a nice smile. It was the smile of a general who had just realized how to win the war.

"Fine," she said.

"Fine?" Atlas asked, suspicious.

"Fine," Levy repeated. "If that’s the rule. If that’s the way of the world. If males find mates when they come of age..." She paused, letting the silence build. Then she delivered her final blow, her declaration of war, her promise of destruction. "Then when I come of age, I’ll mate with Theo myself."

The silence that followed was absolute. Complete. Profound.

Theo made a sound like a dying fish.

Atlas’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. No words came out.

Chase, Ryder, and Jasper looked at each other, then at Levy, then at the ceiling, as if seeking divine intervention.

Niku and Sikai became even more confused.

And Leon, who had been quietly eating a fish in the corner, stood up. Slowly. His mane bristled. His eyes went wide, then narrow, then dangerously, murderously focused.

"What," he said, his voice a whisper that carried more threat than a roar, "did you just say?"

Levy turned to her father, her chin lifted, her expression serene. "I said when I come of age, I’ll mate with Theo. That solves everything. He gets a mate. I keep him. Everyone wins."

"Everyone does not win," Leon said, his voice rising. "Everyone does not... that is not... you cannot..."

"Why not?" Levy asked, genuinely curious.

"Because..." Leon flailed, his hands grasping for words that would not come. "Because he’s... you’re... that’s not..."

"Not appropriate," Ravin supplied, appearing from the doorway where he had been listening, his expression carefully neutral, but even Ravin who’s usually so leveled headed look like he’s about to blow up just like Leon.

"Not done," Aureon added, his tiger’s nature making him pace, back and forth, back and forth.

"Not possible," Soryn said, his snakes hissing in agitation.

"Not happening," Veylan growled, his wolf’s rumble filling the room.

"Not ever," Caelion finished, his Mer voice carrying the weight of the ocean.

Levy looked around at her fathers, at their united front of horror and disapproval, and she did not flinch. She did not back down. She simply raised one eyebrow, an expression she had learned from Mirena, and said, "Watch me."

Theo, poor Theo, made another dying fish sound and slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, his head in his hands, his face burning, his life flashing before his eyes.

Leon looked at me, his expression pleading, desperate, broken. "Fix this," he begged. "Make her... make her stop. Make her understand. Make her... not say those words. Ever again."

I looked at my daughter, at her fierce little face, at her absolute certainty, at her love that knew no boundaries, no logic, no reason. I looked at Theo, mortified and beloved. I looked at my mates, united in fatherly horror.

And I laughed.

I couldn’t help it. The situation was too absurd, too ridiculous, too perfectly, beautifully chaotic.

"Krys," Leon protested. "This isn’t funny. She’s... she’s..."

"She’s ten months old," I said, wiping tears from my eyes. "She doesn’t even know what mating means. She just knows she wants to keep Theo. She’s solving the problem the only way she understands."

"She can’t keep him," Leon insisted. "She can’t... they can’t... when she’s older... if they..."

"If they what?" I asked, still laughing. "If they fall in love? If they choose each other? If they bond? Leon, we don’t know what will happen. They’re children. Let them be children. Let her make her declarations. Let him blush and stammer. In a few years, they might laugh about this. Or they might..." I shrugged. "They might not. But we can’t control it. We can’t stop it. We can only love them and guide them and hope they make good choices."

"I don’t like it," Leon muttered, sinking back down, his fish forgotten. "I don’t like any of it. I want to kill something. Several somethings. Starting with that boy in the corner."

Theo whimpered.

"Don’t kill Theo," Levy said, turning to her father with sudden concern. "I need him. For later. For mating."

"Don’t say that word," Leon begged, putting his face in his hands. "Please. I’m begging you. Never say that word again."

"What word? Mating?"

"Yes."

"Mating, mating, mating," Levy sang, dancing around the room, her declaration made, her victory complete.

Theo whimpered again from his corner. Trouble can wait, today we deserves a little chaos.