A savage pang of jealousy squeezed Mara’s heart. This was why she was leaving the pride, why she’d put Michael through that awful fight last night. So she could be someone’s momma and cuddle that precious baby against her heart whenever she wanted. So she would never again have to experience the jabs of bright green envy when her charges’ mommas and daddies came to fetch them at the end of the school day.
It wasn’t fair. Tria could skip a birth-control shot at seventeen, get knocked up at the first dirty look from a randy lion, and name her child after a crappy decaf coffee, while Mara devoted her life to teaching and nurturing other shifter’s children, was the prototype for a responsible, stable parent, would never name her child after food or drink, and yet she didn’t have a child of her own. How was that for justice?
Tria bounded over to her, a puppy in a Playmate’s body. She bounced her daughter on her hip and flashed Mara a sparkling smile—equal parts eager and vacant. Whatever Tria’s failings—and Mara was petty enough to mentally list them whenever the opportunity presented itself—the girl really did love her daughter and was fiendishly invested in her education.
“How’d she do today? Did she, like, get that L, M, N and O are all separate letters? We’ve totally been practicing,” Tria vowed, as if Sanka’s ABCs were right on par with World Hunger and Nuclear Proliferation in global importance. Which, to Tria, they totally were.
“She’s doing great,” Mara soothed the nervous mommy. “Sanka’s developing right on schedule.”
The four-year-old squirmed until Tria set her down, and then launched herself across the schoolyard to tackle a boy three years older and a solid thirty pounds heavier than her. Sanka may look like pigtailed innocence, but even though she’d only joined the preschool group last month, Mara had already learned that dimpled grin camouflaged one of the most devious minds in the pride. She must have gotten her conniving from her father, because Tria was an open book—probably a picture book, colorful and pretty and not too intellectually challenging.
Mara kicked herself for her nasty thoughts. This was why she had to leave the pride. Her petty jealousies were starting to interfere with her teaching and that was unacceptable. She would go off, find Mr. Forever, and Michael would get over it. Though why he had anything to get over in the first place was a mystery. They were just about sex. Weren’t they?
“Miss Mara?” Tria bounced on the balls of her feet. “Did you hear me?”
Mara shook away her preoccupation. She had plenty of time to obsess over Michael later. “I’m sorry, Tria. What did you say?”
“I’m preggers!”
The words were like a mule kick to the stomach. “Congratulations,” Mara gasped.
“I know! I’m, like, totes glowing, right? Duncan was all, it’s official, Tria. And I was all, what? And he was all, you’re my mate for, like, life.”
“What?” The question came out more sharply than Mara had planned. Duncan was the prototypical alley-cat lion. He’d sleep with anyone who waved her tail in his face and now he was settling down? With Tria?
“It’s totes serious.” Tria blinked her big green eyes solemnly. “At first I thought he was messing with me and I was all, seriously? And he was all, seriously. We’re gonna be, like, a real family. How sweet is that?”
“Sweet,” Mara repeated numbly.
She was going to be sick. How would Tria react if she regurgitated her PBJ sandwich all over those cute little sandals?
Duncan was older than Mara. She’d always known he was Sanka’s father—secrets like that just didn’t get kept in the pride—but she’d also seen him with a dozen different women in the four years since Sanka’s birth. Sure, he spent a lot of time with Tria, but what guy wouldn’t want to spend time with a sweet, bubbly, uncomplicated and notoriously flexible cheerleader?
Men wanted Tria for fun. That was all the single men in Mara’s age bracket seemed to want. Fun. A good time. Nothing serious.
Mara was too serious. She’d never lied about the fact that she wanted a family. She wanted a partner. So those middle-aged children who had avoided mating into their bachelor thirties steered well clear of her and her serious-relationship vibes.
Then, while they were having fun with someone like Tria—frivolous, twenty-one year old Tria—they decided they really did want forever and happily ever after. With a pubescent bimbo.
It wasn’t fair. Lions were promiscuous. Mara understood that. She accepted that. She just needed one—one—who was like her daddy. Steady and true.
Why was it they could only be faithful family men with stupid little cheerleader sluts like Tria? Did Mara really have to be a twenty-year-old trollop to land the man of her dreams? Was that how it worked? Because if it was, she was wasting her energy going to another pride. She was never going to be Tria. She didn’t want to be Tria, adored by every man she met. She just wanted to find one man who would love her for herself.
Michael’s face flashed in her mind, as she had seen it last night, lined with anger, and a frisson of unease slithered along Mara’s conscience. He had reacted so unexpectedly. Almost as if she were breaking his heart. Which was ridiculous.
Wasn’t it?
The idea that young, impetuous and uncontrolled Michael might actually have had serious feelings for her…it was too ludicrous. But the memory of his rage brought her up short. Could that possibly be the explanation? Was Michael Minor in love with her?
The answer to the question leapt into her mind as another question, harsh but necessary. Did it matter if he was?
No. It couldn’t.
He wasn’t her Mr. Forever. Mara had criteria for the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with and Michael didn’t qualify. She crushed the little voice in her head that wondered if she was doing the right thing by leaving.
There was no guarantee that she would find her Mr. Forever at the first pride she visited, or in any other pride, but she had to try. She couldn’t stay here, knowing she would never find what she needed. She needed the possibility. The hope.
Without it, before long there would be nothing left of her but bitterness and might-have-beens. Even if she failed, she had to go out into the world and open her heart. She couldn’t live the rest of her life closed off from the possibility of love.
Mara forced herself to smile at Tria as the girl gushed about morning sickness with unnatural enthusiasm. She refused to turn into a bitter old maid. If that meant leaving Three Rocks to give herself the opportunity for the life she wanted, so be it.
She was doing the right thing. The intelligent thing. She was.
Chapter Six
Michael couldn’t sleep. Restlessness clawed at him.
He still hadn’t taken his lion form since last night and he refused to. Instead, he prowled on two feet, walking the familiar paths of the ranch compound until his legs ached.
His thoughts were unsettled, out of balance. He saw the logic of Mara’s decision—he wasn’t exactly prime genetic stock—but his heart still couldn’t makes sense of it, and the clashing of emotion and logic refused to give him any peace.
“Michael?” The raspy, feminine voice was nothing more than a whisper on the breeze, but his lion-keen hearing picked it out easily.
Michael paused, waiting for the quiet footsteps to catch up to him. “Ava.”
He didn’t want company, but his little sister was the one person he couldn’t brush off. She’d had all four of the Minor brothers wrapped around her finger from the day she was born.