(GILBERT'S POV)
I looked down at Violet in astonishment.
He was doing something to me. I could feel it on a level far deeper than physical touch. It was as though his strange elder elf powers were reaching out to my wolf, my instincts, my fears, shushing my turbulent emotions with a purity that only an innocent child could possess.
It was impossible. It was unheard of. An eight-month-old baby had no control over their abilities, their magical essence was barely formed, let alone capable of purposefully soothing a grown werewolf's emotions. Right?
But that's exactly what he was doing.
And when Violet had finally settled something inside me—something broken and raw—he blinked, smiled a gummy, toothless smile, and turned his head toward Liam, stretching his small arms out as if to say, "I'm done. Take me back."
His strange task complete.
Liam took the baby from me, and Violet snuggled happily into his father's arms, his eyes already growing heavy with sleep.
