Page 27 of Taken By The Wolves (Blackwood Forest #2)

FINN

When the baby cries, Scarlet is off the bed in seconds. She grabs my shirt and pulls it over her head. I snag a pair of sleep shorts from the chair, tug them on, and follow her, my feet thudding against the wood floor.

Nixon and Reed are out cold, sprawled in the tangle of sheets, dead to the world after their long night of pursuing Aura and pleasuring Scarlet. They don’t stir as we slip out, and I don’t blame them.

The baby is squirming in her makeshift basket crib. Scarlet scoops her up, holding her against her chest, her lips already whispering soft shushing noises.

“I think she’s hungry again,” she murmurs, not quite looking at me, but rocking gently.

I peer at the squirming bundle, who kicks with surprising strength for someone so small. “Probably needs a diaper change, too.”

“Yeah. Of course.” Scarlet’s voice is low and a little unsure, but there’s a calmness about her that I appreciate.

If she were panicking, this whole situation would probably implode.

We share a wide-eyed, amused, overwhelmed glance.

Neither of us knows what the hell we’re doing.

But there’s no panic. Just this strange, sweet willingness to try together.

“Let’s take her downstairs,” I say, tipping my chin toward the hall. “Leave the others to sleep. We’ll figure it out.”

Scarlet exhales, a puff of relief that makes me want to kiss her. Instead, I open the door and gesture for her to go first. She gives me a grateful look and pads barefoot down the stairs, cradling the baby like she’s made of spun sugar.

***

The kitchen is dim and quiet, the navy blue of the midnight sky pressing in through the windows. I flick on a small lamp above the stove while Scarlet settles onto the couch with the baby. I grab the emergency bag Goldie left behind, digging for supplies before I prepare a bottle.

“You’re getting good at that,” Scarlet says.

I glance over and smirk. “I’m a fast learner. Especially with a vocal teacher.”

She chuckles, and it cuts through the quiet. I want to hear that laugh again. And again. And the sighs she makes after she comes, when her body is as relaxed as it can be.

By the time I hand Scarlet the warm bottle, the baby’s fussing, but it quickly turns to eager sucking. Her cheeks puff and deflate with each determined pull, and Scarlet watches her like she’s witnessing a miracle.

“I thought about names earlier,” she says after a moment. “Before I fell asleep. I thought… maybe we should give her one.”

I settle beside her, shoulder to shoulder. “Yeah? Got one in mind?”

She watches the baby, who is going at the bottle like it’s her last meal. “Ahya,” she says softly. “It means miracle.”

Ahya.

It isn’t a name I’ve ever heard before, but it’s beautiful. I swallow the lump rising in my throat and nod slowly. “It fits.”

Scarlet’s smile is small, but radiant. “She survived the woods. Whatever that pack did to Aura… And whatever fate tried to do to her. She’s still here, alive and strong.” She pauses, stroking Ahya’s cheek.

I rest a hand on her thigh. “Doesn’t matter how she got here, or how little we know. She’s safe now. That’s what counts.”

The baby finishes the bottle with a triumphant gasp, then goes utterly still until a rumble rolls through her tiny body. The sound is both hilarious and horrifying.

Scarlet’s eyes go wide. “Oh god.”

I crack up. “That’s a code brown!”

“How does something that small make that much noise?” She’s laughing, but she’s already standing, shifting Ahya into the crook of one arm and grabbing a clean diaper with the other.

“Miracle or not, Ahya’s gonna test our capabilities.”

We spread out the supplies on the couch. I help peel off the onesie while Scarlet wrangles the wipes. It’s clumsy, awkward, and wildly endearing. The smell hits us both at once, and we recoil, then burst into shared laughter.

“Is this our life now?” she says, barely containing her giggle.

“It sure looks that way.”

Scarlet glances at me, eyes shining, and my heart aches at the hope that’s so clear in her pretty eyes.

Once Ahya’s fresh and clean, we tuck her back into the basket. Scarlet curls up next to me, and I sling my arm around her, pulling her close.

“She’s so perfect.”

“You both are.” I kiss her temple, inhaling her scent that relaxes me to the core.

She turns her face to me, forehead resting against mine. “Do you think it’s weird?” she asks. “That I’m already this bonded to Ahya?”

“No,” I say. “I think it’s fate.”

She presses a soft kiss to my lips, then lets her head rest on my chest, melting against me as the baby settles nearby. The house is still again, full of possibility and growing love. Full of questions, truths, and complications, too.

“We need to talk tomorrow,” I say gently. “All of us. My brothers should be there.”

She looks up, searching my face.

I cup her head and pull her to my lips, pressing another kiss to her temple, unable to get enough of the sweet scent of her hair. “Don’t worry. It’s good. The best. I promise.”

She rests against my chest, wrapping her arm across me. “You ever think about what you really want out of life?”

“You mean like… hopes and dreams.”

“Yeah.”

“All the time,” I admit. “There are things I want, and things I know I need. They don’t always fit together.”

“So what do you do when they don’t?”

I exhale slowly. “You make a choice. Sometimes you give up what you want to keep what you can’t live without.”

I think about the furniture I’d build if Nixon didn’t need me at the lumberyard. The places I’d travel if my wolf weren’t a liability in unknown territory. The family I lost, whom I’d trade every dream to see again.

She sighs. “I think our generation believes we can have it all. And in chasing everything, we let the important things pass us by.”

“What do you want, Scarlet?”

She doesn’t answer right away. When she does, her voice is too practiced. “I love my life.”

But then her mask cracks.

“The truth is… I want to be a momma.” Her words are a whisper.

Maybe she fears that admitting the truth too loudly might shatter something inside her. “Maybe it’s because I can’t have children. Maybe if the choice hadn’t been taken from me, the need wouldn’t burn as much as it does.”

I gather her into my arms, holding her as tightly as I dare, as if I could shield her from the ache, as if my touch could rewrite the years of heartbreak and grief she’s buried beneath that quiet strength.

My gut twists, my chest hollowing with the weight of what she’s been denied.

And beneath that pain, my wolf awakens, howling to give her what she craves. To fill her with my seed. To claim her. To heal her. To breed her.

This desire to plant our legacy deep in the woman fate carved for us is primal.

She’s ours.

The doctors were wrong. Her body was waiting for the right mate. She was meant to be ours all along.

And we can give her everything she thinks she can’t have.

This may be the key to making Scarlet our willing mate.