Shifting closer, Broxen slid his hand toward Gabriela and settled it on her thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze through the thick blanket covering her.
She looked up at him, and her lower lip quivered. The tears that had gathered in her eyes spilled down her cheeks as she blinked. She turned her attention back the remains of her home.
“We didn’t have renter’s insurance,” she said softly, brokenly. “It was an expense I let go, at least until things picked up, but they never did, and I…I just forgot about it. I never thought anything like this would happen. But we lost…everything. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Ana tilted her head to look at her mother. “It’s okay, Mommy. It’s just stuff.” She laid her head down against Gabriela’s shoulder and hugged her mother tight. “I don’t need any presents. I have you.”
“I know, baby. I know.” Gabriela turned her head away, but not before Broxen saw her features crumple in anguish. She covered her face with a hand as her shoulders shook with her quiet sobs.
Broxen couldn’t stand seeing her like this, and he couldn’t keep silent. He took hold of the hand she’d raised and, gently as he could, guided it back down. Leaning closer, he captured her chin with his finger and thumb and tilted her face toward his. “We will figure it out, Gabriela. I am here for you.”
Her watery eyes searched his, and her bottom lip quivered again before she wrapped her arm around his neck and hugged him close, burying her face against his throat.
Putting his arms around Gabriela was the most natural thing in the universe for Broxen. He felt her lips, so soft, so enticing, on his skin, but he also felt her warm, wet tears. Her sweet scent teased his nostrils, but it was nearly overpowered by the stench of smoke clinging to her. His tail twitched with the need to touch her, to twine around her and secure his hold on her.
When he’d longed to hold her, this hadn’t been what he’d envisioned—but that wasn’t important. The female he wanted to claim as his was reaching out to him for comfort now. She needed him.
And sul’kalor vir sul’astal—by sun or by stars—he was going to be there for her and Ana both.
He would do anything to help them. He would do anything to see those tears in Gabriela’s eyes dry up, to see her smile again.
After a time, the sound of tires on the road caught his attention. He lifted his head and turned it to look at the approaching vehicle just as the car’s brakes squealed faintly and it drew to a stop.
Broxen narrowed his eyes. They’d already had a few of the permanent residents come gawk at the flames. A couple, like Austin, had been helpful and sympathetic. A few others had treated it merely as a spectacle and had seemed to pity Gabriela rather than sympathize with her.
The car door opened, and a middle-aged male human climbed out and slammed the door shut behind him. His eyes were fixed on the smoldering remains of Gabriela’s home. “What the hell… What happened?”
“House fire, sir,” said one of the nearby firefighters.
“Yeah, so I was told when one of you called me. I’m the owner of that damn house. What happened?”
Gabriela lifted her head and sniffled, but she didn’t release Broxen.
Another firefighter—the one who’d introduced himself as the captain to Gabriela earlier—strode over to the newcomer. “Sorry we had to wake you with a call like that, Mr. Jensen. I’m Captain Walker of McCall Fire.”
“So? What’d she do?”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“Gabriela. The lowlife I was renting this place to.”
Gabriela stiffened, and her fingernails bit into Broxen’s back.
“That’s the first thing you’re asking about her?” The captain frowned. “Not if she and her kid are okay, it’s what’d she do?”
“She’s been late on her rent two of the last four months,” Mr. Jensen snapped. “I had grounds to evict her this time. For all I know, she burned the place down just to get back at me.”
Gabriela drew back, placed her hands upon Broxen’s chest, and gently but firmly pushed him aside. He could have easily resisted, could’ve held her in place without any effort, but he was not going to deny her the right to defend herself. And he was not going to stand by idly while this worm—this vakalgis—spoke about Broxen’s female that way.
“You asshole!” Gabriela tore away her blanket, draping it over Ana’s lap, and leapt down from the truck. She stumbled slightly but caught herself before Broxen needed to steady her.
Mr. Jensen and Captain Walker turned toward her. She marched toward them, her wet socks leaving footprints upon the pavement.
Broxen scowled. For a tiny female in her sleepwear, she projected a surprising air of threat, but he could not ignore Gabriela’s state—her pajama pants were soaked from the knees down and along the backs of her thighs and ass, and her shirt was too thin to provide any protection from the cold. It didn’t matter that she displayed not an ounce of her discomfort; he knew she was freezing. He knew her trembling earlier had been due just as much to the cold as it had been to her traumatic experience.
And that made something stir deep inside him, like a beast roused from age-old slumber—an ancient instinct. It demanded he march forward, scoop her up in his arms, and bring her into the house to warm her, soothe her, tend to her. To shield her from anything that would do her harm, be it a person like Mr. Jensen or an insurmountable force like the weather.
He’d take on any foe for the good of his mate and her kit.
“What’s happening?” Ana asked in a small voice. She was wrapped up snugly in her blanket with her freshly bandaged hand sticking out near her chest, fingers bent slightly.
“Stay here, Ana,” Broxen muttered. “Your mother needs to have a talk with that man.”
He pushed away from the truck and followed Gabriela, his scowl deepening. Talk…humans liked to talk, but Broxen found he had no patience for it right now. The longer Gabriela had to deal with Mr. Jensen, the longer she’d be exposed to the cold, and the more frustrated Broxen would become.
Need to care for her.
His fingers itched to take hold of her, if only just to lift her soaked feet off the freezing pavement. If only to draw her into the shelter of his body—both to warm her and make it clear to this angry newcomer that she was under Broxen’s protection.
Gabriela stopped in front of Mr. Jensen. “I was living in that house for years before you took ownership. And I just paid the rent today. Why the hell would I even pay you at all if I had some malicious intent?”
Mr. Jensen glared down at her. “Don’t you talk to me that way, missy.” He thrust a finger out toward the remains of the house. “This is your damned fault. I could sue you for—”
“You can take your threats and shove them up your ass, caremonda!”
His eyes rounded, and his jaw dropped.
“You’ll get your insurance money,” Gabriela continued, “but I lost everything tonight—everything except my daughter. Though I nearly lost her, too, because you never fixed that fucking window!”
The captain seemed to be trying to interject, but neither Gabriela nor Mr. Jensen paid him any attention. The latter was far too occupied gaping at the former.