POV: Clara 

The child’s hand was warm against my stomach — impossibly, breathtakingly warm, like a ray of sunlight condensed into a single point. My breath caught, my skin crawling in a heat that was different than fire, conscious and watching.

It stared at me with its vast, gold eyes.

Teach me how to be gentle, it had asked.

I nodded, though no words would come. 

The tether pulsed — a thrumming of three beats now woven ...