Born for Silk (The Cradled Common)

Epilogue

Rome

Two months later

In the courtyard, I pace outside the Silk Girl Wing, where the finest doctor in The Cradle prepares Aster for her caesarean.

The grass below my feet is already burnt-umber from the friction of my powerful gait.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Glaring at the door.

“Hurry. Open up. Sire is going to kill someone, and I am the only one out here.” Turin Two stands by the locked door, watching me, amused by my utter dishevelment.

Fucker.

It happened so fast; I was playing with her sweet body, and she started screaming in pain, clutching her back as it spasmed, and that was that.

I needed the heir out.

I wasn’t prepared, so I’m bare-chested, pants barely clinging to my hips without underwear. I thrust my hands through my hair, muscles bubbling with discomfort. The blood on my forearms catches my eye, gripping at my flesh, drying to a shell of crimson.

Odio…

Growling, I glare up at him. It is his fucking fault I am not inside with her as I should be.

Above me, Odio has carved a line through the Redwind, leaving a streak in the wake of his darting form.

Left to right.

His head is angled downwards and his keen eyes are like arrows searching for a target. And I am ready to catch him before he dives for the person who opens that fucking door.

He wouldn’t let the Trade doctors touch her. I had to stay outside and wrestle with his talons; my forearms snaked in blood from the altercation. I tried to sedate him, but he dodged all my tranquilliser darts.

Fucker.

His distress floods the atmosphere above me, and nothing is more dangerous than the fear of losing someone you love.

I should know.

I feel feral.

“She will be fine, Sire,” Turin Two consoles, and my sharp stare hits him as if his words are unwelcome. They are not. I only have one feeling—volatile—and that cannot be calmed, soothed, or?—

A click comes from the door.

Turin Two inhales hard and pushes it open, lunging into the building, but not before Odio descends like a giant shadow, the sound of his sudden decline a riotous clap of feathers.

I reach the door just as the winged giant does, turn around, and bulk to my full size, blocking the entrance. “Not yours, Odio!”

A screech punishes me and the air, and I swear I hear profanity in it. When I don’t move, he takes off shrieking, the sound assaulting the atmosphere, and returns to cut a red line in the sky above her wing.

I walk inside and close the back door.