Chapter 20 #2
We make it to Astra’s side just as Selene catches the baby. A daughter. Tiny and perfect and screaming with healthy lungs.
Lucian stares at his child, his hands shaking as Selene quickly cleans her. His face is pale, his trademark control nowhere to be found.
Suddenly, Astra’s eyes roll back, and she collapses into the grass.
“Astra!” Lucian drops to his knees beside her as Seth rushes over.
“She’s fine,” Selene says quickly, checking Astra’s pulse. “It’s normal. Her body has been through an ordeal. She just needs rest.”
Lucian looks up at Seth, and I see the rawness in his eyes—the fear and relief and overwhelming love all tangled together. “Let’s bring them to our chambers.”
Seth carefully takes the baby from Selene’s arms and cradles her against his chest. The tiny girl has stopped crying, and her eyes blink up at him.
Lucian gathers Astra into his arms as gently as if she’s made of glass, then stands. He gazes at his daughter one more time, a fierce and protective look crossing his face, before he carries Astra toward the palace with Seth on his heels.
The garden fills with relieved murmurs and quiet laughter, and for a moment, everything is perfect.
Then, Daciana’s knees buckle. I catch her before she hits the ground, scooping her into my arms.
“I’m taking you to our quarters,” I say firmly. “You need to rest.”
She doesn’t argue. Just leans her head against my chest, her body going slack against mine.
The next month passes in a fury of blood and retribution.
Theodore’s execution is the first order of business. I stand beside Lucian as they drag the former Council leader into the main hall, and I feel nothing but cold satisfaction as Lucian delivers the killing blow himself. Swift. Brutal. Final.
Then, Lucian seizes control of the Umbra Council, and I watch the King transform into a harder, more ruthless version of himself.
Anyone who opposes him gets stripped of power and status.
Those with vile intentions—the ones who plotted against Astra, who would have supported Theodore’s war—are executed.
“You’re going too far,” Seth warns him one evening.
Lucian is holding his baby—tiny, perfect, sleeping peacefully in his arms—and his eyes are ice. “I have a daughter to protect. No one will ever threaten her.”
I approve. Every single decision he makes, I approve. Because I understand now what it means to have someone so precious that you’d burn the world down to keep her safe.
With Lucian’s iron grip on the Council, the war Theodore wanted never materializes. The purity faction scatters like roaches do when you turn on the light. Within weeks, the threat is neutralized.
And for the first time in eight hundred years, I can breathe easily.
Daciana lies in our bed, her dark hair spread across the pillow. I can’t stop touching her. My fingers trail through the silky strands, stroking, as I savor the fact that she’s here, that she’s alive, that we’re finally free.
She is two months pregnant now. There’s barely a curve to her stomach yet, just the slightest swell that only I notice. But I notice everything about her.
“So, Celeste was the queen back then,” she says quietly, staring up at the ceiling. “And Theodore’s family was to her what Artisem’s family is to you. Her secret keeper?”
I nod, continuing to caress her hair. “Theodore’s family was unwaveringly loyal. With Cassandra as their prisoner, they knew when we would all be born. When to strike. When to manipulate.” My jaw tightens. “Forcing prophecies from a seer witch is beyond cruel. It destroys them from the inside out.”
“Theodore killed my birth mother.” Her voice becomes softer. “My family.”
“Yes.” I lean down and press my lips to her forehead. “I’m sorry.”
She sighs, the sound heavy with sadness.
“So much death and bloodshed. All because those shifters wanted to keep the bloodlines pure.” She turns her head to look at me, and there’s bitter irony in her eyes.
“And in the end, Celeste—or whoever the first queen was—slept with witches to create a hybrid reincarnation in her own bloodline.”
“The universe has a sense of humor,” I say dryly. “A cruel one.”
“She’s gone now?” Daciana whispers. “Really gone?”
“Really gone.” I cup her face, making sure she sees the truth in my eyes. “Hera destroyed her heart. The curse is broken. There’s no coming back from that.”
Daciana is silent for a moment, then she shifts slightly. “My brothers are still recovering, but they’re both warriors, so they should be fine. Can they…” She looks up at me, and I see the vulnerability there. “Can they visit us sometimes?”
Warmth unfolds in my chest. The fact that she’s thinking about the future—about building a life, about keeping her family close—makes it all worth it.
I kiss her lightly, tasting her lips. “They can visit us anytime.”
Her smile is radiant. Genuine. “I never thought this would end. I thought we’d be running forever.” She touches her stomach—that small swell where our child grows—and marvels, “But now it feels like everything is going to be okay.”
I cover her hand with mine, pressing both our palms against her abdomen. Against our baby. “It is okay. We’re free.”
“I want a lot of children, Kieran.” She looks up at me, her eyes bright. “I want a big family. I want noise and chaos and—”
“You can have as many as you want.” I lean down and capture her mouth in a deep kiss, pouring eight hundred years of longing into it. “A dozen, if that’s what you desire.”
She kisses me back, her hands threading through my hair, and I feel her body come alive beneath mine. When she pulls away, she’s breathing hard, her pupils dilated.
Before I can process what’s happening, she rises up and straddles me, her thighs bracketing my hips. Her fingers find the buttons of my shirt, but she doesn’t bother with them. Instead, she grabs the fabric and tears, slicing through the expensive material like it’s paper.
Buttons scatter across the bed.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice dropping an octave.
She grins down at me, looking wicked and playful and completely irresistible. “Practicing.”
My cock hardens instantly, pressing against the confines of my pants. She leans over me and starts kissing her way down my chest, her lips trailing fire across my skin. Her tongue flicks against my collarbone, then lower, exploring every ridge of muscle.
I grab her hair in my fist, tugging just hard enough to make her gasp.
“You know how I feel about you trying to take control in bed,” I growl.
She looks up at me through her lashes, and there’s a challenge in her eyes. “What are you gonna do about it?”
A primal urge courses through me. I lift her by the waist—easily, since she weighs nothing—and set her back down on top of me, positioning her exactly where I want her.
“If you want to be in charge,” I say, my voice dark with promise, “then you’re going to ride me.”
Her breath catches. I watch her pupils blow wide, watch the pulse at her throat start to race.
“Kieran—”
“Take off your clothes.” It’s not a request.
She hesitates for just a moment, then reaches for the hem of her nightgown.
I watch as she pulls it up and over her head, revealing inch after inch of smooth skin.
No bra. No underwear. Just her, naked and perfect in the dim light of our bedroom.
That small bump in her belly where our child grows makes something possessive and fierce twist in my chest.
“Fuck.” Even after all this time, she takes my breath away.
She reaches for my pants, fumbling with the button. I let her struggle for a moment, enjoying the flush that spreads across her cheeks, then I lift my hips and help her push them down.
When I spring free, she bites her lip.
“Go on, then,” I say, my hands settling on her hips. “Take control.”
She arranges herself above me, her hands bracing on my chest. I can feel her heat, can feel how ready she is, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to flip her over and drive into her.
She sinks down slowly, taking me inside her, and we both groan.
“That’s it,” I rumble, my fingers digging into her hips. “Take all of me.”
She does, inch by torturous inch, until I’m fully sheathed inside her. Her head falls back, her mouth falling open on a silent cry, and I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
Then, she starts to move.
Slowly at first, rocking her hips in a rhythm that makes my vision blur. I guide her, my hands on her waist, showing her the angle, the speed, the way to make it good for both of us.
“Kieran,” she gasps, her movements becoming more confident. “Oh…”
“That’s it, love. Just like that.”
She picks up the pace, riding me harder, and the sounds she makes—breathy whimpers and soft moans—drive me wild. I watch her breasts bounce with each movement, watch the way her body flushes, watch pleasure transform her face.
“You feel so good,” she pants, her inner walls clenching around me. “So—Oh, gods—”
I thrust up to meet her, unable to stay still any longer, and she cries out. Her nails rake down my chest, leaving red marks, and the slight pain only heightens my arousal.
“I’m gonna—” She can’t finish the sentence.
“Come for me,” I command, sliding one hand between us to where we’re joined. My thumb finds that sensitive spot, circling it, and she shatters.
Her whole body goes tense, her back arching, and she screams my name.
That’s when I lose control.
I flip her in one smooth motion, rolling us over so she’s beneath me, and I drive into her hard. She gasps, her legs automatically wrapping around my waist, and I can feel her still pulsing around me from her orgasm.
“Again,” I growl against her throat, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. “I want to feel you come again.”
“Kieran—Oh, yes—”
I set a brutal pace, each thrust deep and claiming.
The bed frame hits the wall with each movement, a rhythmic thud that probably echoes through the palace, but I don’t care.
All I care about is the way she feels wrapped around me, the way she cries out with each stroke, the way her body arches to meet mine.
“Harder,” she moans, and feral instinct takes over.
I grab her thighs, spreading them wider, changing the angle so I hit that spot inside her that makes her see stars. She screams, her hands scrabbling at my back, her nails digging in deep enough to draw blood.
“You like that?” I demand, driving into her relentlessly. “Is this what you meant when you said you wanted to practice?”
“Yes! Gods, yes—Don’t stop—”
I can feel her building again, her inner walls fluttering around me. I reach between us, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves again and rubbing in tight circles.
She detonates.
Her second orgasm hits her like lightning, and I feel it ripple through her entire body. She clamps down around me so tightly, I can barely move, and the sensation pushes me over the edge.
My release crashes through me with devastating force. I bury myself as deep as I can go and empty myself inside her, feeling her continue to pulse around me, milking every last drop.
“Kieran,” she whimpers, her voice wrecked. “I can’t—It’s too much—”
But her body tells a different story. She’s still rolling her hips, still seeking more friction, still trembling with aftershocks.
I slow my movements but don’t stop, working her through it, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until she’s boneless beneath me, gasping for air.
Finally, I go still, dropping my forehead to hers. We’re both covered in sweat, panting, hearts racing.
“That,” she wheezes, “was definitely not me being in control.”
I laugh, the sound breathy. “You lost control privileges the moment you came.”
“I’m not complaining.” She runs her hands down my back, more gently now. “That was amazing, Kieran.”
I kiss her slowly, deeply, feeling her soften beneath me. When I finally pull out, she makes a small sound of protest, and I smile against her lips.
“Greedy little thing.”
“For you? Always.”
I roll onto my side and pull her against me, placing her so her back is pressed to my chest. My hand splays over that small swell of her stomach.
“I can’t believe we’re going to be parents,” I murmur against her hair. “After everything we’ve been through.”
She covers my hand with hers. “Are you scared?”
“Terrified.” I’m honest with her. I’m always honest with her. “But also excited. Hopeful. Things I haven’t let myself feel in centuries.”
She’s quiet for a moment, then: “Lucian and Astra’s daughter is beautiful. When I hold her, I can barely breathe. She’s so small.”
“You’ll be a wonderful mother,” I assure her.
She turns in my arms so she’s facing me, and her eyes search mine. “What happens now?”
“Now?” I consider the question, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Now we live. We build a home. We raise our children. We grow old together.”
She nods, satisfied. “I like that.”
Outside our window, I hear the sounds of the palace settling in for the night.
Lucian is probably standing guard over his daughter while she sleeps.
Seth is likely checking the perimeter one more time.
Daciana’s brothers are probably trying to come to terms with their new lives, still grieving the loss of their family. It’ll take time, but they’ll heal.
“Kieran?” Daciana’s voice is drowsy now, sleep pulling at her.
“Yes, love?”
“Thank you for not giving up on me. For all these lifetimes.”
“Always.”
She doesn’t respond. Her breathing has already evened out, deep and steady. I listen to it for a long time, this simple proof that she’s alive, that she’s mine, that we made it through the darkness.
My hand drifts back to her stomach, to that small bulge. Our child. Our future.
Tomorrow, we’ll face whatever comes next. But tonight, I just hold them both.
And for the first time in my long, bloody life, I feel complete.