Chapter Thirty-Eight
Lenora
Iopen my eyes to dull sunlight cascading over the silhouette of an angel. It halos the shape of his wide shoulders and broad back where his wings nestle between the blades. Standing with his face tilted to the heavens and his hands clasped at his lower back, he’s a beautiful sight first thing.
Curled protectively behind me, Marcus breathes lightly against the nape of my neck. His arms are too tight and still too gentle across my enormous belly.
It’s bigger than it had been the day before. I feel the uncomfortable pressure across my lower back. The ache in my thighs. I don’t know how long I have, but it can’t be much longer and we’re still not done with the Duvals.
We don’t have the nursery finished.
We don’t even have baby clothes.
Above all else, no doctor. I don’t know how to give birth. I doubt Marcus or Veyn would either. Maybe Mrs. Pym but I don’t know where she is. Can we trust a regular doctor? What if the baby is born with horns or a tail?
I want to believe this baby is a miracle from my boys, but I’m not an idiot.
I don’t believe they air-dropped it into my womb for next day delivery.
It may have been a gift, but I don’t believe every part of it is human, even if Veyn claims demons and humans can’t have babies.
Maybe they can’t, or maybe something is different this time.
Whatever the case, I want and love this baby. Nothing is going to change that.
Gingerly, I pull myself free of Marcus’s heavy embrace and wiggle carefully to the edge of the mattress. It’s much harder than it used to be. I feel a little like a turtle trying to roll off my back. It’s made more complicated when I’m trying not to disturb Marcus.
Veyn appears before me. Still a dark figure outlined by the light. His big hands come around me and I’m lifted up into his arms as if I weigh nothing, which is definitely not true. I lace my arms around his neck and let myself get carried to the window.
Without missing a beat, he uses his tendrils to fold beneath him like a seat and I’m settled on his lap, both of us facing the faint gray light rising from the forest in faint coils.
“What happened last night?” I ask, head resting on his shoulder.
“What do you remember?”
I yawn before answering, “The greenhouse. Marcus and I had an argument. Then I woke up in the bed.” I pause before adding, “It’s been happening a lot lately. I keep waking up in different places with time missing.”
He’s quiet a long moment. Dark eyes stay fixed on the glass with a seriousness that makes me think I might not like his answer.
“Were you hurt?”
I consider the question and run a quick check over my body.
There are aches and pain overall. My thighs and hips are on fire.
My lower back keeps wrenching. I have a migraine building behind my eyes.
All I want to do is sleep. I also have a million reasons why I can’t sleep.
Why I need to get up and get moving. It’s clear I don’t have much time and there is so much left that needs to get done.
“Lenora?”
Veyn slips long, warm fingers along the curve of my cheek. Slips them beneath my chin. Doesn’t lift my face but lovingly grazes the curve of my bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.
“No, I’m okay,” I whisper, shutting my eyes. “Just … so tired.”
The hand lifts and lightly sweeps back the hairs at my temple. It’s such an oddly gentle gesture. Caring. The kind of sweetness that is so human I almost don’t see the darkness that swells around him.
“It will be over soon,” he assures, lips brushing the top of my head, disturbing the hairs.
“That’s what I’m worried about,” I murmur. “It’s all happening too fast and it’s all too much.”
I’m thankful when he doesn’t try to assure me. Instead, he lets me sit in silence, watching light flurries of snow drift down from the heavens.
It’s unclear how long we sit this way when the faint hiss and rustle of sheets has my head lifting. It turns to find Marcus pushing upright. His dark hair tumbles around his sleepy features, over eyes that dart around the room with panic before they find me.
“Mon p’tit? What’s wrong?”
I shake my head even when he shoves back the blankets and hurries towards me.
“I’m all right,” I partially lie.
He stands before me, pale eyes working over me in assessing sweeps. I wonder if he can tell I’m bigger. Maybe it’s all in my head. A delusion manifested by my overactive imagination. Maybe I feel bigger because I want this baby out already so I can meet it.
But the way he blinks makes me think it’s not entirely in my head.
“Breakfast,” he decides firmly, like the state of me requires immediate sustenance. “Shower, then breakfast.”
I would argue that I want a few more minutes where I sit, that I’m comfortable, but I’m equally anxious to get going. I’m already thinking we should handle the final Duvals before we come back to tackle the nursery. It’s probably too late to paint the room, but at least we should get clothes.
“Can we go to the store—?”
My question to Veyn is brutally interrupted by the clawing punch of pain that slams down the line of my spine and spears between my thighs. It’s a blinding rush of fire that knocks the wind from my lungs as I fight my body’s reflexive urge to bolt upright like it can escape it.
“Linny?”
Marcus makes as if to grab me, but Veyn already has me scooped up against his chest.
“I’m … I’m okay,” I pant, hands cradling the bump as the life inside twists and kicks in an eager dance that continues to press against my center.
“Are you in pain?” the demon asks.
I wait for the sensation to return, but nothing happens.
“I think I’m okay.”
“Maybe you should stay in bed,” Marcus decides, eyeing me with poorly concealed concern. “I’ll get a doctor to come check on you.”
“And tell them what?” I argue. “That I’ve been pregnant roughly a week?”
“You need a doctor,” he states with aggravation. “A professional who will know what to do. This isn’t like having a cold. It’s serious and dangerous, and so much can go wrong.”
“A doctor will ask too many questions,” I remind him again. “I’m fine. I’ll just stay in bed and—”
“Human.”
Veyn has gone still, head cocks to the side, face tilted in the direction of the window.
That seems to be enough to have Marcus leave my side and hurry to look outside.
I think it’s Mr. and Mrs. Pym. Marcus’s bedroom faces the side of the house. No one else would be moving around the property for no reason.
But I can tell from the confusion on his face that he doesn’t see anyone when he turns to face Veyn.
“The front,” Veyn answers the unspoken question. “Duval.”
My heart sinks even as an icy surge rises up my throat.
My gaze darts from Veyn to Marcus, but he is already moving with long strides to his closet.
He returns in less than a minute in trousers and a button down he’s dragging over his shoulders.
His expression is one of determination when his eyes meet mine.
“Stay with her. Do not leave her side until I get rid of them.”
Veyn only inclines his head.
“Wait. You can’t go down alone,” I start, trying to wiggle myself free of the downy yards of fabric.
Marcus ignores my attempts, powerful body moving to the door with a sharp, “Do not leave this room.” From over his shoulder.
I open my mouth to tell him not to leave, but he’s gone and I’m left to realize if he gets hurt, it will be my fault.