Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Angelo
I moved.
One moment I was sitting beside Serenity, the next I was across the room, towering over Prudence. Centuries of predatory instinct took over—the vampire, the king, the father whose child was being kept from its mother.
"Give me my daughter.” My fangs gleamed inches from her face.. "Now."
Prudence's face went deathly pale, all the color draining away. Her hands trembled as she held the baby. "I was just—I was only cleaning her up, Angelo. I didn't mean—"
I didn't wait for her to finish. I reached out and took the baby from her hands—gently, so gently, even though rage was singing through my veins.
My daughter was so tiny, so fragile in my arms. Impossibly small. Perfect.
Everything stopped. The anger, the fear, the centuries of violence and bloodshed—all of it fell away as I looked down at her face. Ten tiny fingers. Ten tiny toes. A dusting of dark hair on her head. She was real. She was here. She was mine.
Something cracked open in my chest—a flood of love so fierce and overwhelming it nearly brought me to my knees.
I'd ruled empires, faced down ancient enemies, survived centuries of darkness.
But nothing—nothing—had ever made me feel as vulnerable, as terrified, as utterly devoted as holding this tiny creature in my arms.
My daughter. My Noelle.
I turned away from Prudence and crossed back to Serenity in two strides.
"Here, tesoro," I said softly, carefully placing our daughter in Serenity's waiting arms. "She's yours."
The moment the baby touched Serenity's skin, everything changed. Serenity's face transformed—exhaustion, fear, suspicion all melting away into pure, overwhelming love. Tears clung to her lashes, spilling onto her cheeks as she gazed at our daughter.
"Hi, baby girl," she whispered. "Hi, Noelle. I'm your mama. I've got you. I've got you now."
I stood frozen, watching my mate hold our child for the first time, and something in my chest—my still, dead heart—cracked open.
Our daughter.
Noelle.
Joy leaned over Serenity's shoulder, looking down at Noelle. Tears gathered on her lashes, trembling there before spilling over. Her shadows swirled gently around them like a protective cocoon. "Serenity, she's beautiful. Absolutely beautiful."
Serenity couldn't take her eyes off our daughter, couldn't stop touching her tiny face, counting her fingers. "She's perfect," she whispered. "Angelo, look at her. She's perfect."
I couldn't speak. My throat was too tight. All I could do was nod.
But inside, I was drowning—in love, in relief, in a gratitude so profound it felt like worship.
This woman had given me everything. A home, a heart, a family.
And now this—this perfect, impossible child.
I'd lived centuries feeling like a monster.
But looking at them, I felt human for the first time in my existence.
Prudence moved closer to the bed, and danger slithered up my spine. I stepped between her and Serenity.
"Would you like to get cleaned up, Serenity?" Prudence asked, her voice back to that practiced, polished tone.
I looked at the bed. Blood pooled around Serenity's legs. The placenta and umbilical cord lay on the towels. My mate needed care, needed to be cleaned and checked and made comfortable.
But I didn't want Prudence near her. Didn't want those hands that had tried to keep our daughter from us touching my mate for one more second.
"I'll clean her and Noelle up," Prudence offered. "Joy, would you start a warm bath for Serenity?"
"Absolutely." Joy squeezed Serenity's shoulder, then hurried into our bathroom. I heard the spigot turn on, water beginning to fill the tub.
I looked at Prudence, really looked at her. Her heart was racing—I could hear it, smell the anxiety rolling off her in waves. She was nervous. Scared, even.
Good. She should be.
"Serenity can heal herself," I said, my eyes never leaving Prudence's face. "Watch."
As if on cue, Serenity closed her eyes. A soft, glowing white aura bloomed around her body, starting from her core and spreading outward like gentle flames.
The light was warm, pure—angelic power from her skin.
Color returned to her cheeks, her breathing steadied, the tension easing from her face as whatever damage the birth had caused began to heal.
Within seconds, the glow faded. Serenity opened her eyes and shifted slightly in the bed. The tension in her face had eased. The pallor in her cheeks was already improving.
"See?" I said to Prudence, a cold smile curling my lips. "She's fine. Better than fine. She doesn't need you."
Prudence stared at Serenity, and something flickered in her expression—surprise, maybe, or frustration quickly masked. "That's... remarkable. I've never seen anything like it."
"Now you have." I stepped closer to Serenity protectively. "You can go. Now."
Prudence nodded quickly, backing toward the door. "As you wish. If you need me, I'll be down the hall."
You won't be needed, I thought but didn't say. Not ever again.
She slipped out and closed the door behind her.
"Angelo." Joy emerged from the bathroom, steam curling around her. "The bath is ready. I put some lavender oil in there to help her relax and heal."
"Thank you, Joy." I moved to the bed and carefully slipped my arms underneath Serenity—one behind her back, one under her knees. She was still holding Noelle against her chest with one arm, unwilling to let go even for a second.
I lifted them both, cradling my entire world in my arms. Serenity was exhausted, her body limp against me, but her hold on our daughter was fierce and sure.
She leaned her head against my chest, her voice soft with wonder. "I can't believe she's ours, Angelo. I can't believe we made her."
My throat tightened again. "I know, tesoro. I know."
"I'll clean up the bed," Joy said quietly. Her shadows swept across the mattress, gathering the blood-soaked sheets and towels into a neat pile. More shadows pulled fresh linens from the closet, already working to remake the bed. "Take your time. I've got this."
I carried Serenity and Noelle into the bathroom, into the warmth and steam and safety, leaving the blood and fear behind.
For now.
Serenity glanced up at me, confusion in her tired eyes. “Are you being hard on Prudence because you don’t trust her?” She searched my face. “Because I’ve noticed it too. The way you look at her. The way you questioned the tea.”
"There's something about her I don't trust," I said, turning sideways to maneuver us through the bathroom doorway. Steam rose from the tub and the warm scent of lavender filled the room, soothing and clean. I set her gently on the closed toilet lid.
"Let me take Noelle while you get ready for the bath," I said softly, turning on the faucet to fill the tub.
She handed me our daughter reluctantly, and I cradled Noelle against my bare chest. She was so warm, so impossibly tiny.
Her little fist curled against my skin, and the world shifted on its axis.
Love—raw, primal, all-consuming—crashed through me with the force of a tidal wave.
I'd killed for less than this. I'd die for this.
I'd burn civilizations to ash for this tiny creature who had just wrapped her fingers around my heart and claimed it completely.
Serenity removed her blood-stained nightgown, moving stiffly, exhausted. I glanced down. The blood had stopped dripping down her thighs—her healing had worked perfectly.
Carefully—so carefully—I placed Noelle in Serenity's arms, my hands hovering protectively until I was sure she had her.
Then I helped them both up, supporting Serenity's weight on her shaking legs as I lowered her slowly into the warm water, keeping one hand on her back until she was safely settled.
She sighed with relief, Noelle nestled against her chest.
"You have problems trusting anyone," she said, exhaustion making her voice sharp.
I turned on the jets, and bubbles rose around her, lavender-scented steam filling the small space.
"When it comes to you and our daughter? That's absolutely true." I grabbed a soft washcloth from the shelf and dipped it in the warm water. "And I make no apologies for it."
Noelle’s dark eyes blinked sleepily up at Serenity. Skin to skin, just as it should be. Serenity looked up at me. “What exactly don't you trust about Prudence?”
“Her heartbeat.” I wrung out the washcloth and began gently washing Serenity’s shoulders, her arms, careful and tender. “It kept spiking—racing when it shouldn’t. And I could smell her fear.”
She gave me a scolding look. “You terrified her. You’re a six-foot-four vampire king who looked ready to rip her throat out.”
“Maybe.” I dipped the washcloth again, cleaning the sweat from her neck.
“But there was something else. An anticipation, an eagerness I didn’t trust.” I paused, meeting her eyes.
“Especially after those teas she kept giving you. You weren’t due for another week.
What if whatever she put in those drinks made you go into labor early? ”
Her eyes widened slightly, the horror settling over her like a shadow. “Why would she do that?” Serenity whispered, looking down at Noelle. “What would she have to gain to do that?”
I stroked her damp hair gently, pushing it back from her face. I didn’t want to say it—didn’t want to bring that name into this moment of peace. But she deserved the truth.
“Vex."
"No." She shook her head, pulling Noelle closer protectively. "Prudence wouldn't—she's been with me through my entire pregnancy. I don't think she's working for Vex." Her voice grew more certain. "Besides, Vex is working for Balthazar. Why would she help him?"
"Possibly. But I've found my paranoia has kept me alive for centuries." I continued washing her carefully, methodically, giving her time to process.
"And made you jaded," she said softly, looking up at me. "You don't trust anyone. You see threats everywhere."
I paused, the washcloth stilling in my hand. She wasn't wrong. Centuries of betrayal, of watching allies turn into enemies, of learning that trust was a luxury vampires couldn't afford—it had made me hard. Suspicious. Unable to believe in goodness without questioning the motive behind it.
"But then I met you," I said quietly, cupping her face with my free hand. "And you showed me that some things are worth trusting. Worth believing in. Worth protecting with everything I am."
I looked down at our daughter, already half-asleep against Serenity's chest. So small. So trusting. She had no idea the danger she'd been born into, no idea how close she'd come to being taken from us.
I was a father now. The truth settled over me like a mantle—terrifying and sacred all at once. And I would spend every moment of my existence making sure she never had to know the darkness that had threatened her before she was even born.
"Then trust me now," Serenity said, her eyes searching mine. "I’ve noticed things too—the tea, the way she wouldn’t meet your eyes. But Prudence working with Vex? Helping him take our daughter?" Her voice wavered. “I can’t wrap my head around that. She’d been my midwife for months. She just delivered Noelle. Why would she do all of that if she wanted to hurt us?”
I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But my instincts wouldn’t stop howling that something was wrong.