A Deal in Darkness (Dark and Devilish #2)

47

NOT ON MY WATCH

ENZO

M y girl looks up at me and smiles. It’s easy and she’s content. Nothing is bothering her and she’s enjoying the afternoon, just as she’s enjoyed the others that have passed recently. Adriana stretches out on the grass and basks in the sunlight, curling her toes in pleasure.

I’m pleased we moved here.

I admit I wasn’t when we first moved in.

I liked the sleek lines of the loft and the ease with which I could track Adriana down. The mansion has far too many rooms, and I have to roam them in search of her. It’s inconvenient and it deprives me of the chance to stare at her fucking gorgeous body.

Her hands stroke her stomach, and I watch her ease her anxiety. I've no idea why she feels the need to touch her bump. It seems to soothe her. It reassures her. Almost as if she needs to check my child is still growing inside her.

My child is far too fucking strong for anything to happen.

Surely she can feel its movements.

I fucking can, and I’m not even touching her.

I watch her closely, checking for any signs of concern. Guarding her and my child. I doubt there’s any need after Lucifer made it clear that we are untouchable but it hasn’t stopped me from protecting what is mine. Obsessively.

Adriana knows I’ve become far too territorial to allow anyone else near her. Her new assistant risks my wrath when she drops the new manuscripts in our room and I’ve come close to lashing out at her on several occasions. Adriana complains about it but then smiles to herself, thinking I don’t see it. I fucking see every smile and smirk, every knowing glance. My girls loves the possessive, protective provider I’ve become and I don’t intend to change anytime soon.

Byron’s keeping a low profile and when he does visit, he makes damn sure that he doesn’t see Adriana. He's nice enough to bring her something baby-related. Things women adore but don’t threaten me. We’re acquiring a collection of soft toys and baby clothes that most parents would envy.

Adriana sits up, and I sit behind her, letting her back rest against my chest. I can feel her heart beat as it pounds against her chest. I feel my child’s heart beating too—it’s quieter, faster and just as determined as its mother’s, who’s currently shifting her weight against me as if I’m not doing my fucking job properly.

Adriana closes her manuscript and tosses it onto the significantly larger of the two piles next to her. It’s the reject pile and my girl’s given up on this book within the first five chapters. She’s irritated it’s a disappointment and sighs as she picks up the next one.

“No good?” I ask.

“Nope,” she replies. “Even you couldn’t make it into a bestseller.”

I smirk and play with her hair. “You underestimate me, baby.”

“Trust me. It was shit.”

Lucifer was right to warn me. The child’s going to be the least of my problems—and the ones it causes won’t be insignificant. Its mother is currently complaining about everything and the book isn’t the only thing receiving a scathing critique. I’m getting fuck all thanks while she runs me ragged trying to meet her needs.

She’s too hot, and then she’s too cold. Her feet are too swollen and then her back is sore. Adriana wants to eat and as soon as I serve her food, she decides she’s nauseous again. She gets bored and wants to go out and then it’s too much effort.

The only time Adriana is content is these few hours in the early afternoon when she sits in the garden and reads. She adjusts herself and I sigh, certain that the peace of the afternoon is about to come to an end. She huffs and her chest heaves, making her tits move seductively. They’re even bigger now, and I find it hard to resist playing with them.

Adriana suits pregnancy and I’m going to make damn sure we repeat this often. She’ll get used to the feeling and I imagine practice makes perfect and we’ve got an eternity for her to adapt to this.

Her hand stops rubbing her stomach and it stiffens.

“It’s kicking,” she complains, like it’s a bad thing my child wants to strengthen its legs. “Why does it have to kick so fucking much?”

“My child is strong.”

She huffs again. “This is all your fault.”

I grin and know better than to remind her that it takes more than one person to make a child. Particularly this child. Adriana loves me as much as I apparently love her, and she shares equal responsibility for her current situation. More perhaps, given she agreed to be mine in the first place.

“I’m not sorry.” I twirl some strands of her hair around my finger. “You’re carrying my child, Adriana. Stop complaining about it.”

Perhaps I should be less harsh. Sound more understanding.

It might make this pregnancy easier for me.

“It’s not kicking you.”

I place my hand on her stomach and the child kicks harder. It knows its father and I’m as eager to meet it as they are to meet me. Adriana groans as the baby wriggles playfully and I rub her back, easing her ache with a little magic.

“Are you sure that won’t hurt the baby?”

Moments ago, she was cursing the damn thing. Now she’s worried my magic will harm it. There is no pleasing this woman and her doubts over my ability are becoming tiresome.

“I’m sure,” I whisper. “You know I wouldn’t do anything to harm either you or the baby.”

“Are you sure it’s going to be okay?”

Adriana worries excessively and her fingers dig into her stomach, telling me she’s winding herself up again.

“Of course it’s going to be okay,” I say through gritted teeth. For the thousandth fucking time. “The baby’s healthy. You’re healthy. We’re untouchable and the child will be, too.”

Unless it decides to join the fuckers on the other side.

And that is not going to happen. Not on my fucking watch.

“Are you sure?”

We’ve talked about this more times than I care to remember. Lucifer sent over the tomes from his personal collection and I read them to Adriana. Twice over. We’re as prepared for this child as we could be, and we’ll just have to make everything else up as we go along. This is what humans do, and I don’t understand why Adriana needs more reassurance.

No one quite knows what powers this child will possess, but I’m certain they’ll be strong. They’re a Nephilim but they’re also my child, and I’m a Prince of Hell. My child is going to be extraordinary and it’s going to change the world.

Maybe for the better. Probably for the worst.

I couldn’t be more excited.

Or happier .

I’ve grown accustomed to this feeling and even started to like it. It’s still sickly sweet and disgustingly warm. Its softness still rubs against my harshness, but there’s something nice about it. I like the way it brings me closer to Adriana. I like that she likes it too.

I particularly enjoy the way my heart races when she smiles or sighs contentedly because of something I’ve done. Her little moans and mews drive me crazy and I can’t get enough of them. They’re becoming more frequent and I’ve finally realized they’re a sign she’s happy too.

And I want her to be happy. So fucking happy she can’t contain it and it bursts out of her.

“I’m sure, baby.”

“Do you know?” she asks, quietly. “If it’s a boy or a girl?”

I don’t.

I refuse to find out before her.

I made her a promise that she would be the first to know, and I intend to keep my word. No one else will find out whether the baby is a boy or a girl before she does. No matter what, no matter how much it costs me.

I won’t repeat the same mistake I made when I collared her. I got everything else I wanted and I’m content to let Adriana have this moment. It feels right for that moment to be hers, and I’m going to make damn sure that it isn’t taken from her.

“You’re going to be the first to know, Adi.”

She nods and relaxes back, somehow comforted by the assurance I’ve kept my word. My child kicks again and she ignores it, resting against me. She seems content, even if she’s tired.

It irritates me that she won’t let me use my magic to energize her.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine, Amaymon.”

My chest expands a little. She’s taken to using my real name and I fucking love it. Particularly when she screams it as she comes. My needs haven’t abated and she’s become more demanding during pregnancy. I assume it’s the hormones and I’m sure as fuck not going to complain about it.

Her preferences change and currently she’s in the mood to suck cock. I haven’t got a fucking clue why she’s so fucking keen to take my dick down her throat. Maybe it’s the perk I get for getting her pregnant and she’s getting fantastically good at sucking me off. Her tongue does this flicking thing that sends me fucking wild and Adriana won’t be forgetting that trick after she pushes my baby out.

I trail my fingers down her arm, and she moans quietly.

“I really am okay.”

She’s protesting too much.

Adriana adjusts herself and pulls my arms around her chest.

“I’m honestly fine, Amaymon. Just tired and fed up with everything.”

I draw a deep breath.

“Not with the pregnancy. Just the actual being pregnant.”

I exhale.

Fuck.

My heart almost stopped from the sheer damn shock.

It took Adriana some time to come to terms with what was happening. She wasn’t unhappy, but she wasn’t comfortable either. In all honesty, I can’t say I blame her. She had to handle discovering her father was an angel who decided it was best not to be in her life while processing everything that happened in the temple.

“We can talk if you’re not…”

“I really am,” she says, sliding her hand over mine. “I know I wasn’t thrilled in the beginning.”

That’s an understatement.

She cried most nights. A lot of the days, too. I couldn’t work out if it was because of what Eva did to her or if it was the baby growing inside her. Hormones are funny things and the mind is even stranger.

Adriana wouldn’t talk about it in the beginning, so I took matters into my own hands. There’s no point in having magic if you can’t use it. I needed to know what the fuck happened to Adriana, even if there was little I could do to change it.

I almost lost my shit entirely.

It was worse than I dared to imagine and the only thing that stopped me from tearing Hell apart was the thought that Adriana needed me. I convinced myself that her ordeal was the reason she was so fucking distressed and I stopped caring if that was a lie to help me cope with whatever she was going through.

Adriana didn’t need my self-indulgent anger and she definitely didn’t need my pity. She’d survived a fucking ordeal, and what she needed was my help. I might not have been thrilled, but I wasn’t making this into my problem. My girl had more than enough on her plate without me adding to it.

The crying stopped a few weeks after she started showing. The nightmares, too. Then Adriana started talking and we made some fucking progress.

A few weeks later, I caught her staring at herself in the mirror, smiling as she stroked her stomach. I disappeared as fast as fuck, and I’ve never been so fucking glad that I’m a sneaky asshole. Adriana started touching her expanding belly more often and her smile returned, and I did little more than give her time and space.

Now, she’s so damn big that she waddles and it’s annoying. Nothing happens quickly. She’s nesting too. The mansion has been redecorated and the amount of shit we’re accumulating keeps expanding.

Especially pink, fluffy shit.

My girl created a nursery and for some idiotic reason she insisted we decorate it together. Manually. As if that made it better or somehow made us better parents. Paint got all over the fucking carpets and it looked shit, and I had to fix it later. Without her finding out because I didn’t want to face the consequences. There would have been hell to pay. But I refuse to give my child anything that isn’t what they deserve.

“I’m really okay with being pregnant,” she says, lifting my hand and moving it over her stomach. “I know it wasn’t easy and you’d have preferred it if I was happier about it in the beginning. It just took me a bit of time to get here.”

“You’re happy now?”

My heart stops and leaps into my mouth as if my entire existence hinges on the answer she gives me.

Because it does .

Everything does. My world stopped revolving around anything but her a long time ago, and I wait, desperate for her to give me the assurance I need.

“Yes,” she says, in an instant and as clear as a bell. “Really happy. This wasn’t the plan, but it’s worked out. It feels right, somehow. I can’t really explain it, Amaymon, but it sort of feels like this is the way things are meant to be. I’m looking forward to meeting our baby and finding out if they’re a boy or a girl.”

Our baby .

Fuck me.

She’s so fucking special and that warm, fuzzy feeling breaks out over me like a goddamn rash. I’m practically glowing, and Adriana gives me more than I ever expected. This is so much more than she bargained for and she’s not only at peace with it, she’s fucking thrilled. She’s got everything she ever wanted and it didn’t come in the form of expensive jewelry, flash cars, or fancy houses.

Not that this mansion is anything short of spectacular.

Adriana’s happy and I’m going to make sure she stays that way.

“Do you have a preference?” she asks, knowing I don’t.

“No. Stop asking me ridiculous questions. If it’s a boy, then he’ll be strong like his father and if it’s a girl, she’ll be fierce like her mother. Either is acceptable and wanted.”

Adriana tenses so slightly it’s almost imperceptible.

“What if they’re neither?”

“Then they’re still ours and that is all that matters, baby.”

She sighs and rests back against me, finally relaxing as my arms soothe her swollen belly and my wings fold around her, protecting what is mine.