Absolutely no sense of self-preservation, Zaira judged. “She’s taking a risk.”
“She doesn’t have to worry about risk management—do you know how many eyes are watching us right now?”
Zaira scanned the room without appearing to do so, acutely aware of her lack of telepathic senses. Aden was right—the changelings seemed to be going about their business, talking and eating, but they were keeping a close eye on the situation at the entrance. Zaira knew how fast changelings could move, realized that should either she or Aden appear the least threatening, they’d be under attack from multiple sources in a split second.
Having made that determination, she made sure to keep her distance from the child Aden carried easily in one arm while she babbled in his ear. Since Aden had that arm and hand busy, she put food on his plate while he held it out, then filled her own, the food items available from a community table against the left wall.
“Pony!”
She turned to find the child stretching its arms toward her. “I will never again wear this T-shirt.”
Her words made the child giggle and stretch even farther out of Aden’s arms, as if she’d launch herself at Zaira.
“Aden.”
“For the good of the squad.”
“It won’t do any good if I drop her on her head.” Zaira liked small, delicate things, was very careful with the treasures she collected, but none of them was a living being. She didn’t trust herself with living beings. She killed living beings even when she wanted to save them, admire them.
“As I’ve seen you handle a laser pistol with rock-steady hands, I think you can handle a child.”
Zaira wasn’t so certain, but, placing her plate on the nearest table, she gathered the child into her arms, copying Aden’s hold in order to support the small body. However, she quickly realized she couldn’t hold the child in one arm as he’d been doing—her muscle strength wasn’t the same as his, and the child was heavier than it looked.
“Hi!” It grinned at her before throwing both arms around her neck and ducking its head against her own, the softness of its hair brushing her neck.
Frozen in place, she stared at Aden. “Now what?”
Chapter 17
A CHANGELING FEMALE appeared in Zaira’s line of sight just then, her hair and the shape of her face making it clear she was the child’s mother or other close relative. “I’m so sorry,” she said with a smile that didn’t seem apologetic at all. “She loves ponies. Come on, cublet. Let Zaira eat.”
The child—the cub—clung on tighter. “No.” A puff of hot air against Zaira’s neck. “My friend!”
Lips twitching, the other woman raised an eyebrow. “She can be like a barnacle. You mind?”
“No.” Alarming or distressing the child would hardly create goodwill, and right now she and Aden needed RainFire’s assistance.
“Be good, Jojo.” Leaning in to kiss the child’s cheek, the woman stepped back and returned to another table.
“Jojo good,” the child said into Zaira’s neck. “Zai good?”
Surprised the cub had so quickly picked up on her name from the context of the conversation, Zaira sat down at a table and looked at her new companion with more interest. “Not always,” she said with utmost honesty. “I can’t always control myself.”
Sitting up in her lap, the child stared at her, frown lines marring her forehead above eyes that had shifted to a soft brown. A second later, she clapped. “Cookies!”
As the word seemed apropos of nothing, Zaira downgraded her estimation of Jojo’s intelligence until Aden said, “Do you find yourself unable to control yourself around cookies, Jojo?”
A firm nod from the black-haired girl. “Cookies. Nom nom.” She made chomping movements with her jaw and mimed putting cookies into her mouth with hands that suddenly had tiny claws at the tips of her fingers.
Zaira looked at Aden. “Are all children this small this intelligent?”
He wasn’t the one who answered.
“Kids are full of surprises,” Remi said, taking a seat across from them. “Good morning, Jojo.”
Beaming, Jojo pushed herself up by bracing one hand on the table and blew kisses at Remi.
The alpha grinned. “This one, though, she’s a smarty-pants.”
Plopping back down in Zaira’s lap, claws retracted, Jojo reached out and took a triangle of toast off Zaira’s plate. She made a face after taking a bite. “Pea butter?”
“Gimme.” Taking the slice, Remi put some kind of spread on it from a small jar on the table. “There you go, complete with peanut butter.”
Happy, Jojo relaxed against Zaira and busied herself eating. The small, warm weight was . . . odd. Picking up an undoctored slice of toast, Zaira was very careful with all her movements so as not to inadvertently harm the child.
“She won’t break, you know.” Remi’s stance was unaggressive, his arm placed easily over the back of the chair next to his. “Jojo’s a leopard cub, probably has bones stronger than yours.”
“Her spine remains fragile. I could snap it in a second,” Zaira said before she remembered she was supposed to be blending in.
The growl that rumbled from Remi’s throat had Jojo going still. Zaira did, too, aware of Aden ready for a fight beside her.
“Apologies,” she said before the situation could escalate. “I didn’t mean I would harm the child. I was just pointing out that you’re all being very trusting in allowing me to hold her. You should be more careful.” Jojo was tiny, easy to harm, easy to break.