Chapter 23 – Leonora
Normal girls wanted normal men to cook for them, clean for them, and treat them like princesses, which honestly wasn’t a bad thing. But in the world where I came from, the women did the serving. They treated their husbands like kings, even if they were the world’s biggest assholes. Finding a man to uphold you like his queen—rub your feet, feed you breakfast in bed, eat you up like delicious dinner—was extremely rare.
Luckily for me, I found one. Or he found me. Or we found each other, really.
I woke to the weight of my body pressing me into the mattress and the ache in my back more fucking insistent than it had been the day before.
My swollen feet throbbed even as they lay propped up on a pillow, and the baby, as if in a bid to remind me of its imminent arrival, kicked sharply against my ribs. I groaned and shifted, but even that simple movement felt monumental. My belly was like a fucking obstacle.
“Leonya?”
Rafayel’s voice came from somewhere nearby. It was low, and he sounded concerned. I turned my head slowly, catching the sexy sight of him leaning against the doorframe. His dark hair was more tousled than gelled, his shirt half-buttoned, like he hadn’t fully decided whether to start his day or stay by my side. The look on his face was tender and worried.
“I’m fine,” I muttered, though it was a lie through the fucking teeth.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.” My breath hitched as I tried to sit up, only for his long strides to carry him to my side before I could even attempt it.
Big hands slid under my arms to help me upright. “You’re not fine.” His touch was careful, as though I would shatter under his fingertips at any minute. “Why didn’t you call me?”
I didn’t answer right away, too focused on the relief of finally sitting up.
My hands cradled the round expanse of my belly, and…the stupid waterworks started up again.
A tear of frustration pricked the corner of my eye. I didn’t want to need his help for something as simple as sitting, but my body betrayed me. “I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Bother me?” He crouched beside me, dark eyes searching my face. “Leonora, you could scream my name in the middle of the night, and I wouldn’t think twice about coming to you from wherever I fucking am. You know this.”
The sincerity in his tone undid me.
I pressed a hand to my face, but Rafayel gently caught it, pulling it away. “Don’t hide from me.” He brushed his thumb over my knuckles. “I told you I want to be here for you, and I meant every word.”
The intensity of his gaze overwhelmed me. His feelings for me, as hard as it was to finally admit them, so often obscured by the strange circumstances of our relationship, were suddenly laid bare.
I had no doubts; this crazy man of mine loved me, truly, deeply. And sometimes, it scared the hell out of me as much as it comforted me.
His other hand came to rest on my belly, and the tension in his shoulders eased as he felt the faint movement beneath his palm.
“You’re already so fucking strong, sweetheart,” he murmured, and I marveled at the awe in his voice. “But you don’t have to carry everything alone. Let me take some of the weight.”
I swallowed hard, my fingers curling around his. “I’m just…tired. It feels like every day is harder than the last, and I don’t know how much more I can take.”
He rose to sit beside me on the bed, pulling me against him. His hand moved in slow circles over my belly.
“And you’re almost there. When the time comes, I’ll be right beside you.”
He kissed my nose, and I tilted my head back to meet his lips. He groaned, cupping my face softly and parting his lips to grant me access. I kissed him gently, slipped my fingers underneath his shirt, and moaned against him. I could blame my frequent horniness on the pregnancy, but that would be unfair when Rafayel was solely responsible for giving me the flutters.
Before I slipped my tongue into his mouth, smiling against my lips, he pulled back. “You know we can’t. Doctor’s orders.”
“Since when did you become a fucking saint?”
In response, he slammed his mouth hard against mine, knocking all the air out of my lungs by kissing me senseless. Again, he pulled away, a turbulent storm in his eyes. “You know I’m anything but.”
Fuck the doctor’s frigging orders; I wanted to pounce on this man right now. Even his eyes said he definitely wanted me, too. I knew if I pressed between his legs, I’d feel him, hard and ready for me.
He knew what I was thinking. “Leo?”
“Fine,” I sighed. “I know.”
I leaned into him, my head resting against his chest, and for the first time today, I felt a measure of peace.
****
I was in the kitchen, preparing Rafayel’s dinner, when the first pang hit me like a bolt of lightning, ripping through my abdomen and doubling me over in a mixture of shock and pain.
My hand shot out instinctively, gripping the edge of the table for support as my knees buckled. I gasped, the breath stolen from my lungs, and felt a sharp bead of sweat rolling down my temple.
“Leonora!” Varya’s face appeared blurry in my vision when she perched by my side.
“The baby...” I groaned. “The baby is coming.”
I forced myself to breathe, shaky and shallow at first but then steadier. I had prepared for this moment, yet no amount of planning could have truly braced me for this sort of pain.
“Help!” Varya called out. “Someone, help us!”
Panic clawed at the edges of my mind, but I wrestled it down. People rushed in—mostly men and maids, a blur of concerned faces I barely registered. I heard Varya’s voice, though indistinct, and there was a brief argument about how I wouldn’t make it to the hospital on time.
Another voice, a man’s this time, suggested calling the boss.
I nodded, too shocked to speak. I needed to see my husband. I needed Rafayel.
Another pang hit, stronger than the last. “God!” I cried, twisting in pain.
Strong arms guided me to the bed, and my world narrowed to the shocks of agony that seemed to split me in two.
It felt like I was underwater.
Hands pressed cool cloths to my forehead. Someone whispered encouragements I couldn’t process. All I could do was hold on, gripping the bedpost until my knuckles turned white, my cries tearing from my throat in guttural bursts.
“Rafa!”
“It’s time to push!” someone said.
“Rafayel!”
I bore down, my body straining with a force I didn’t know I possessed. Each contraction felt like climbing a mountain. Sweat dripped from my brow, mixing with tears I hadn’t realized I’d shed. My nails dug into the sheets as I roared against the pain, primal and raw.
“Come on, child. You have to push.”
I screamed.
Minutes blurred into an eternity.
The pain, the pressure, the exhaustion—it all mingled into a single, overwhelming moment. Just when I thought I couldn’t endure another second, a sharp, searing final push brought with it a rush of relief.
And then, piercing through the quiet chaos, came the sound I had been waiting to hear for months.
The first wail of life.
“It’s a girl,” one of the maids squealed.
I smiled. “A girl.”
Her cry was so loud, strong, and insistent, almost as stubborn as I was. My chest heaved as I collapsed back against the pillows, tears streaming freely now. But before Varya handed me my baby, a heavy blanket pulled me under, and all I saw was black.