Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Serenity
My eyes fluttered open to sunlight streaming through the double glass French doors, golden and warm. The light painted patterns across the cream-colored duvet, and for a moment I just lay there, disoriented, trying to remember what day it was.
Angelo sat on the edge of the bed beside me, already dressed in dark slacks and a charcoal sweater. He must have been watching me sleep. "Did you have any dark dreams?"
I stretched my arms above my head, working out the stiffness, and was surprised to realize I actually felt.
.. rested. No nightmares. No Balthazar's mocking voice in my head.
Just deep, dreamless sleep. The relief was almost overwhelming.
"No. Nothing." I blinked at him, then at the brightness of the sun. "What day is it?"
He smiled, the tight lines disappearing from around his eyes and mouth. "It's Wednesday."
I pushed myself up on my elbows—which took more effort than it should have with my massive belly. "Wednesday? Seriously?" My mind tried to calculate. We'd done the spell yesterday afternoon, I'd fallen asleep and... "I slept that long?"
"Almost twelve hours." His hand came to rest on my belly, and the baby immediately responded with a lazy roll. "Your body needed it. Both of you did."
I rubbed my eyes, still processing. Wednesday morning. A whole night of sleep with no nightmares, no Balthazar reaching through my dreams. "The wards," I said, understanding dawning. "They're working."
"They're working," he confirmed, relief evident in his voice. "Tinker Bell, Rose, and Prudence did excellent work. You were safe all night."
Hope bloomed in my chest, fragile but real. Maybe we could do this. Maybe I could actually keep our daughter safe.
"What time is it?"
"Seven o'clock. Are you hungry?"
My stomach growled in answer, loud enough that Angelo heard it. I laughed. "Yes. I'm starving."
"I thought you would be." He stood and offered me his hand. "Elena's been cooking up a storm for you downstairs. The kitchen smells incredible."
I took his hand, letting him help pull me upright. "You had her get up this early?"
He chuckled, that deep rumble I loved. "No, tesoro. She was already awake. Apparently, she was upset that she missed the meeting yesterday."
"Meeting?" I swung my legs over the side of the bed carefully. "You mean when we all thought we were going to die looking at Balthazar?"
The memory sent a chill through me despite the warmth of the morning sun. It felt like a different lifetime—that terror, that helplessness. Hard to believe it was just yesterday.
"That's the one."
I struggled to stand, my center of gravity all wrong, but Angelo was there immediately, his arm sliding around my back to steady me. "Wait—why would Elena be upset about missing that? What could she have done?"
"She wanted to be there. To support you." His expression softened. "Elena's very protective of the people she cares about."
I smiled, thinking of Elena. She’d probably been up half the night worrying about me, and now she was making sure everyone ate a proper breakfast. That was just who she was.
Then another thought struck me. "How's she handling being under house arrest?"
Angelo grimaced. "Better than I expected. She's reorganized every closet and cabinet in the house out of frustration."
"At least she's channeling it productively." I rubbed my belly. "How is her granddaughter doing with her pregnancy? Any problems with having a hybrid baby?”
Elena’s granddaughter was a vampire and the father was a wolf shifter.
"According to Elena, perfectly fine. Though..." His expression shifted, something uncomfortable crossing his features. "A vampire-wolf hybrid. I'm not sure how that's going to work."
"You're beginning to sound like Ari," I said sharply. "Remember, I'm a Nephilim—half human, half angel." I rubbed my stomach protectively. "And our daughter is half vampire and half Nephilim. Another 'impossible' combination."
"I see I hit a nerve." He raised his hands slightly. "Our daughter is perfect, as are you. But the wolves..." He trailed off, his jaw tightening.
"You’re impossible. Enough about this. I want to see what Elena made." My mouth was already watering at the thought. "Did Dimitri get all the ingredients?"
"Every single ingredient is stocked in the kitchen, waiting for you and Joy to start baking." He pulled me gently to my feet, steadying me as I found my balance. "I should warn you—Gianna wants to help too. And she's not much of a baker."
I scowled and poked him in the ribs as he helped me waddle toward the bathroom—there was no other word for how I moved these days. "Don't make fun of your sister. She's made wonderful cookies."
He guided me through the doorway, his hand never leaving my back. "With Elena's help. And Elena doing most of the work while Gianna ate the dough."
I stopped in front of the bathroom mirror and looked down at my enormous belly, then wiggled my toes just to make sure they were still there somewhere beyond the curve. "I haven't seen a glimpse of my toes in weeks."
Angelo crouched down, looking up at me with a teasing smile. "They're there. And beautiful as always."
"You mean swollen up like balloons." I turned sideways, trying to see them in the mirror's reflection. "My ankles have disappeared entirely."
He straightened and brushed a kiss against my temple. "Do you want me to help you shower?"
The offer was tempting, but I shook my head. "No, I can do it. I need to maintain some shred of dignity."
"You're carrying our child. There's nothing undignified about that." He reached for the hem of my pink nightgown—the one with an arrow pointing at my belly that said "BABY" in glittery letters—and carefully pulled it over my head.
I frowned at the nightgown in his hands. "Wait. I don't remember putting this on. Did you help me get into this?"
A smile tugged at his lips. "You kept kicking the covers off because you were hot.
I thought you might be more careful with the blankets if you were wearing something.
" He held up the nightgown. "You seemed to find this one particularly amusing last night.
You kept giggling and pointing at the arrow. "
Heat flooded my cheeks. "I don't remember that at all."
"You were half asleep. It was adorable."
He cast his gaze over me, his dark eyes heating with appreciation. "You're beautiful as always, tesoro. Especially those breasts. I thought they were beautiful before, but now... they're magnificent."
I crossed my arms over my chest self-consciously. "Angelo, the last thing I want right now is sex."
"I know." He stepped closer, gently pulling my arms away so he could look at me properly.
"I just want you to know how much I love every inch of you.
Every change. Every curve." His hand skimmed along my side, and I shivered, heat pooling low in my belly despite my pregnant state.
"You're creating life. Our daughter. You've never been more beautiful to me. "
I blinked against sudden tears—damn pregnancy hormones. I laughed to cover it as he turned on the shower for me, adjusting the temperature. "Even though I look like a hippo?"
"You don't look like a hippo." He tested the water with his hand, then looked back at me with complete sincerity. "You look like a goddess. Powerful. Fertile. Mine."
The possessiveness in that last word sent a shiver through me despite myself.
"Now go shower before I forget you don't want sex and try to convince you otherwise." His eyes gleamed with mischief. "Because watching water run down your body is extremely tempting."
I swatted at him as I stepped into the shower, but I was smiling. "Out. Let me have ten minutes of peace."
"Ten minutes," he agreed. "Then I'm bringing you breakfast in bed."
I shook my head firmly. "No. I'm tired of being in bed. You'll escort me downstairs where I can see whoever is up and eat at a table like a normal person."
He sighed, that long-suffering sound that said he knew he'd already lost this argument. "What am I to do with you?"
I scowled up at him, using my best intimidating glare—which probably looked ridiculous coming from a woman who couldn't see her own feet. "Grant my every wish since I'm a grumpy pregnant woman carrying your child."
That rare unguarded smile appeared—the one that always melted my heart. "Done."
It was times like this that I forgot who Angelo really was—who the rest of the supernatural world saw when they looked at him. The vampire king who brought fear to supernaturals across Louisiana. The vampire who'd once served Dracula himself. The monster whispered about in dark corners.
But to me, he was simply the man I loved and adored.
My husband. The father of my child. No one would believe how tender he could be, how gentle his touch was when he held me, how he arranged pillows without being asked and remembered exactly how I liked my tea.
Especially now that I was pregnant, he treated me like I was made of spun glass and starlight.
That didn't mean he wasn't overprotective—God knew he'd proven that yesterday with the house arrest—but his heart was in the right place.
Even if it sometimes made me want to strangle him.
"Go shower," he said, stealing one more kiss. "I'll lay out clothes for you."
"Nothing with elastic waistbands," I called after him as he headed toward the closet. "I want to feel human today."
His chuckle echoed back. "I'll see what I can do, tesoro."
I showered quickly, or as quickly as a pregnant woman can. When I stepped out, wrapping myself in a towel as best I could, Angelo was already there, another fluffy towel in his hands.
Drying myself had become another feat of difficulty, especially my legs and feet, which seemed impossibly far away now.
I bent forward as much as I could, towel in hand, but my belly made it nearly impossible to reach.
Pride warred with practicality. I could ask Angelo for help—he was right there, and he wouldn't judge.
But part of me still wanted to prove I could do this myself, that pregnancy hadn't made me completely helpless.
“Can I help?” he asked softly.
I gave up. This was just too damn hard. I sighed. “That would be great.”
He toweled me off with careful, gentle strokes—my arms, my back, down my legs. Then he knelt and dried my feet one at a time, his fingers steadying my ankle. When he rose, he paid special attention to my belly, patting it dry with such tenderness stole my breath.
He disappeared briefly, then returned with clothes draped over his arm—a large red Christmas smock decorated with Santa Clauses and a pair of soft black drawstring pants. He held them up for my inspection. “Did I do good?”
“Perfect as always.” I kissed his cheek, breathing in his masculine scent. “Thank you.”
Angelo helped me step into the pants, pulling them up gently and adjusting the drawstring under my belly. Then he slipped the smock over my head, careful not to catch my damp hair, and smoothed it down over my bump. His hands lingered there for a moment, feeling for movement.
I enjoyed the pampering more than I probably should. Wrestling with clothes wasn't high on my agenda anymore. Food was. Food and normalcy and pretending, even for a little while, that we were just a regular couple expecting their first baby.
This felt so normal—like what human expecting parents would experience. Breakfast together. Making cookies with friends. Preparing for Christmas and a new baby. It was nice not to think of Balthazar or demons or anything happening to our daughter.
Maybe this was another Christmas miracle—these small, perfect moments of peace.