Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
T he familiar scent of woodsy cologne hit her as soon as she stirred against the thick mattress. Her brain took a moment to register her environment before she remembered she’d fallen asleep under the cover of the huge bed in Cass’s luxurious executive suite after her shower and unsettling encounter with the beautiful Zara.
And here he was, his back propped against the headboard on a few pillows beside her, in the dark except for the glow of a reading lamp above him as he pored over his cell phone, both thumbs typing away.
She watched him silently, studying his features deep in concentration, and was hit with a tide of woefulness. He’d had that exact same face in the studio. No longer Cass St-Amand, charmer rock star adored by the masses with the fast smile and twinkle in the eye, but Cass the artist. Deep into his creations with the serious expression on his well-cut jaw.
Cass, her one-time lover.
And now the father of her baby. She couldn’t deny the feelings she still had for him. Couldn’t forget how he’d made her laugh, had made everything lighthearted and easy when he’d been around.
But being strongly attracted to her baby’s father was not part of her plans.
She’d never meant to become a mother. And of course, she had believed him when he’d told her he couldn’t get a girl pregnant or carry infections. He was a vampire for goodness sake.
One tiny mistake in judgment and her life had been turned upside down.
As someone who was usually healthy, she’d blamed stress for making her skip her period that month. However, the constant nausea had surprised her enough to get herself checked out. Seeing the two little pink lines in the clinic’s bathroom had her dumbstruck. After days of denial and a few more tests, she’d had no other option but accept this turn of events. And eventually, saw it as a blessing.
She had found herself in a situation that she imagined her own birth mother had likely experienced twenty-six years ago.
Anger and longing for the woman who’d abandoned her at birth had been a part of Tilly for so long, the two emotions blended in and were almost a comfort in their familiarity.
And a lesson.
Unlike the mother she never knew, she would be there for her child.
She would have to see how Cass fit into all this.
He was much too devilishly handsome to fall into the category of a devoted father. Dressed in his black jeans and faded band T-shirt from the eighties. His dark hair a little too long occasionally brushing his cheek. And that Celtic cross at his neck he never seemed to take off. She wondered if there was a history behind the necklace. She wanted to know more, but then that would imply getting closer to him.
With his carefree ways, he was not father material. But for now, she had no choice.
“What are you writing?” she asked him all of a sudden, yearning to hear his voice.
He looked up from his device and the stitch in his features relaxed into an easy smile. “Bars.”
“You’re composing new lyrics?” She propped herself on her elbow.
“Yes. Your news did shake me.” He nodded at his phone. “This helps.”
“You’re writing a song about the baby?” She lifted her heavy body higher and plopped a pillow under her arm.
“About you too.” His expression was unassuming. “Our situation.”
“I thought you didn’t believe me.” She was surprised at his apparent change of heart.
“I believe you.” His top lip was a thin line.
She pulled herself to a full sitting position and turned on the soft light on her side before dragging the comforter above her knees. “There was no one, you know. After you.”
“Ah.”
She couldn’t tell if he believed her.
“We should do a DNA test,” she offered.
“Sure.” His face was still unreadable.
“Then you’ll know,” she added.
“Do you remember watching the sun rise over the Atlantic together that first morning in the cottage?” he said, dropping the topic of his paternity.
“Yeah.” Her voice was hoarse at recalling how relaxed and sore she’d felt in his arms after their first night of passion.
“Good times.”
She nodded. Her body heated at the memories. He had joined her in the shower that morning, taking his time to wash her hair, her body. And more. A tingle of yearning emerged at the base of her spine. She still desired him.
He turned slightly toward her with a long, slow exhale. “I wanted you to come to LA with me.”
She sighed, thinking about the implications of what that would have meant for her. “And do what?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Cass.” She gave him a half-smile as she shook her head. “You’ve been catered to for so long—everyone revolves around you. You assumed I’d just close my artist roster and follow you.”
“I see.” His shoulders drooped. “You wouldn’t have.”
“It took me a lot of work to get where I am,” she explained, her tone soft. “I was not ready to abandon it all for someone I just met.”
“I thought we connected that week.” He still wouldn’t meet her eyes.
She reached for his forearm and felt the quiet strength beneath. Her body awakened at the memory of fully giving in to him. Of his lips pressed against hers. Of his masculinity taking control of her.
“We did,” she assured him, digging her nails into her palm to repress her mounting craving.
“But your job…” A corner of his mouth twisted.
“It was a big ask.” She’d been interested, of course she had. They’d forgotten everyone during the weekend, and she had been tempted to just leave with him. But the rational side of her had finally taken over and made her see reason.
How long before the vibrant rock star tired of her? How long before she’d be left behind with nothing as she’d been so many times as a child bouncing between foster homes. She had learned to never get attached. Not ever. Because it would all eventually be taken away in a flash.
Oh, she had a few boyfriends. But she had never let them in. Never gave up anything for them. Most had broken it off, calling her too distant. The others had just stopped contacting her.
“People haven’t always revolved around me, you know.” His gaze turned somber, his tone muted.
“Is that so?”
Somehow, his usual charming rock star facade was gone, and she was seeing the real Cass. The one in Hyannis.
“I’m one of six sons,” he told her. “My brothers have always taken a lot of space, been such unstoppable forces. I’m afraid I was mostly overlooked when we all grew up together.”
“In the seventeenth century?” She was suddenly curious about his upbringing.
“Close to here,” he mused. “On St-Laurent Street.”
“Really? And how was it?”
“Crowded.” He raised an amused brow. “My parents were always discussing Justin and his academics with pride. In those days, being singled out by the Sulpicians to be educated at the seminary was very prestigious.”
“Were you into schoolwork at all?” She personally had found school to be her lucky ticket out of her dreary childhood.
“Oh, hells no.” He chuckled. “Barely finished the secondary grades.
“The whole town loved Val and Mag,” he continued. “They were just so friendly. And I think Renaud was Dad’s favorite. He took him on his hunting trips a lot. They always came back closer than ever.”
“Did you actually hunt?” It was weird to think of this multicultural, bustling city as just a French outpost with Cass still a child running its unpaved street.
“Yeah, some. Hated killing things. But loved being out there in nature.”
“It’s inspirational.” Her favorite times were extensive runs along the deserted beach of the Cape, in the winter when the wealthy owners were still in New York.
“Griffon, the brother I met with tonight, hung with Mom and her local magic-users for a long time.” Cass smiled as he recounted their youth. “Learning as much magic as he could from her. Honestly, there were too many of us in that small house. No one paid much attention to me.”
“It’s hard to believe they didn’t recognize your talent.”
He chortled. “Maybe that’s why I was always banging beats away on whatever I could find. Or singing at the top of my lungs.”
She laughed at the image of young Cass disturbing the family’s peace. She suddenly wondered if their child would be musically inclined, too.
“But Mom did try,” Cass reminisced. “She found a master to give me organ lessons at the church. It was some pretentious music master who’d sailed from the homeland. Had a hard time with our simple life here in the colony, so different from Paris. He tried to teach me, but the classical hymns never stuck with me. He told Mom I was tone-deaf. That I’d never shown any talent and that he was done with me. I was devastated.”
“Wow, that’s harsh. How old were you?”
“Oh, about seven.” His tone was dismissive but the ache crossing his brow revealed the impact of the early criticism still lingered with him.
“Glad you didn’t let that deter you.”
“After that experience, I would sneak out at night sometimes to hide behind the public house. Just to hear the jigs and popular songs of the time. I’d come home and belt them out before getting kicked out of the house for the day.” He chuckled again recalling these simpler times. “I swear to you, my family never had any time for me.”
“You’re still close though, right? You and your brothers.” She recalled that he’d mentioned Valerian, living part-time in the US with his witch partner not so far from her. And Magnovald who owned a nightclub in the city.
“Yeah, we’re tight,” he admitted. “Amazing after three hundred years. But I never shook the feeling I needed to stand out on my own.”
“Well, you certainly did. Your shows are packed.” She was genuine in her admiration.
“True,” he chortled.
“How did you not tell me all this before?” She turned her face upward toward him, touched at the easygoing moment between them.
“I supposed we were busy.” He shot her a look so charismatic that her body warmed all over.
“We were,” she admitted with a slight bite of her bottom lip.
“Making this little guy.” He nodded at her heavy belly.
“Or gal,” she added.
“You don’t know the gender?” he asked with seriousness.
“Nope.” She shrugged with a shake of her head. “Wanted to keep it a surprise. Either way, this baby is all mine.” She wrapped her arms tight around herself over her faded studio T-shirt. She would not repeat her own family history.
“Ours,” he corrected her.
She tilted her head to the side. “You want to be involved?”
She had seen this baby grow from nothing to a living and kicking being inside her. It was hard to believe it actually was also half his.
“Of course.” He frowned as his grip on his cellphone tightened. “Did you think it any other way? It’s my child as much as yours.”
She breathed in slowly, not knowing what to say. Aware that she’d have to reveal why she had truly sought him.
“I really wish you had told me right away,” he insisted.
“I’m sorry,” she relented. And she meant it. She suddenly felt remorseful for having kept him in the dark all these months. Her child needed a father.
Her own mother couldn’t take care of her, but perhaps her father could have, whoever he was. She had very little parental bonds over the years, but some foster fathers weren’t so bad. Mr. Rodney had helped her fix her second-hand bike when she broke it biking down the hill. And she remembered Mr. Joe reading to her at night when she was very little.
She suddenly felt a sturdy kick at the lower part of her abdomen and jerked back against the pillows.
“Whatever we’re having, this little munchkin is super active,” she said, switching position on the pillow.
“He’s moving?” Cass’s voice was filled with excitement.
“Yeah.” She smiled broadly at him. “All the time. Want to feel?”
She lowered her yoga pants below her belly and rubbed the side where her baby had moved.
He gently laid his palm upon her stomach.
The baby kicked once more under his warm touch.
“Oh my god, it’s real.” His shocked, delighted expression was a pleasure to watch.
“As real as it gets, Cass.” Her lips curled into a half-smile.
“This is happening.” His gaze danced with pure happiness. “I’m truly becoming a father.”
She wanted to say something snarky but the look of wonder on his face took her breath away. She had witnessed Cass immersed in creativity, and equally genuine in the midst of passion, but never actually amazed by something.
And she knew right there that she couldn’t take their child away from him. That he would have to somehow be part of his upbringing.
“You’re a daddy, Cassiodore.” Her heart filled with affection. Maybe this co-parenting could work.
He kept his hand on her belly, tender and protective at once. As if he waited for more signs that the baby recognized him.
He was so eager, her chest tightened with sadness to have to bring him the bad news.
“There’s something you need to know.” Her tone turned dead serious.
He blinked, worry crossing his gaze. “What’s wrong? Problems with the baby?”
“No. The last ultrasound came back clear, everything’s fine.” She hesitated to say more.
“Do you need money then?” His brows knitted with confusion, and he took his hand away from her belly. “Is that why you came to me, that you need money?”
“No,” she answered warily. “I don’t need your money.”
“You can have whatever you want, you know that.” He was now sitting straight up beside her.
“I’m a banshee,” she finally said.
“Yeah, I know.”
“Pregnant banshees are vulnerable…” She struggled to explain. “Did you know that?”
“Vulnerable, how?”
She took a deep breath and propped herself up to sit beside him.
“I’m carrying a banshee baby.” She stared at him to see if he was paying attention to her words. “An immortal’s baby to boot.”
“So?”
“You never heard the legends?”
“What legends?” He obviously had no idea of what she was talking about.
“A pregnant banshee and her unborn child’s sacrifice could be used for a powerful magical ritual.” She shuddered at the thought.
He grabbed her hand in his. “How?”
“The offering used to increase the energy needed for spell.” She shook her head, her face pale. “You come from a family with magic, I thought you might have known.”
“Nothing will happen to you.” Disbelief at the horror crimped his brow and he held her hand tighter. “There is no way someone will get near you. Not with me here.”
“It’s a credible threat,” she explained. “My godmother told me first, but Death confirmed it tonight. He himself told me I was at risk.”
“Death?”
“Yes, you know how he comes to me whenever someone near me dies.” She never quite knew how to explain her dreams and visions.
“He appeared to you here?” His frown deepened.
“Yes, earlier. In your bathroom. And this time the premonition was all about me and my child.”
“Whoa.” He settled back as the information sunk in. “Never heard of anything like that.”
“He mentioned your father.” She pursed her lips.
“Papa Antoine?” He looked confused.
“No, your birth one.” She frowned. “Ambrus, right?”
“Yes.”
“He’s a hell demon, Cass.”
“Wait, what?” He jerked back and dropped her hand in shock.
“You didn’t know?”
“Oh dammit, no.” He took a breath.
“According to Death, your father was exiled from the hell realm.” She reached for his arm before sharing her worries. “Could maybe sacrificing our child help him cross back over?”
“By sacrifice? You mean?”
“Yes, like cut me open to get to my baby. Kill us both.”
His teeth clenched, he seized her wrist, his expression so dark, it almost scared her.
“I cannot leave your side,” he snarled. “My birth father will not touch you.”
“It might not be him who’s after us.” She swallowed at feeling so defenseless. “It could be anyone with the knowledge and magical ability.”
“I won’t let anyone hurt you, chérie ,” he insisted, loosening his grip and patting her arm to reassure her. “They’ll have to go through me first.”
“That’s why I came here,” she explained, unable to shake the sense of doom hanging over her. “I’m not sure I’m safe in Hyannis all by myself.”
“You’re fine here with me.” His gaze was unwavering, his strength making her feel a little better. “No one would dare touch you. Not once they know an immortal is the father.”
“True.” She relaxed back against the plump, crisp hotel pillows.
He patted her hand. “I’m right here. And if I’m not, I’ll ask Mag to send over one of his bodyguards to stay with you. They’re all vampires. You’ll be safe, I promise.”
She gave him a brave smile, preferring to believe that she was indeed safe instead of the alternative. She forced another subject to lighten the mood.
“I need to get organized for the birth,” she told him. “My doctor will have a fit when I call her and tell her where I am.”
He sat back and rubbed his skull, distracted away from talks of threats and his birth father.
“You’re right. There is so much we have to do,” he said, suddenly looking up at her with urgency. “Doctors and midwives, a hospital. And hells, we need a house. And baby stuff. You came with this tiny backpack. Don’t babies need a whole bunch of stuff!”
She raised her hand. “Slow down there, bud.” She smiled, happy that they were back to worrying about regular human things. “It will be fine. I’m due in a month. And I do have everything in Hyannis.”
“But you can’t have the baby there. We have to stay here, near my family. For now, at least.”
She looked at him a little stunned. “You want me to have my child here?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, I have places everywhere. But this is home .” His home. Not hers.
“But what about your tour?” She knew he was supposed to be in Munich at the end of November.
Everything was just moving too fast. She’d been so caught up in the godmothers’ fears that she’d never thought about the ramifications of revealing the baby to Cass.
She didn’t realize her safety meant for her to have her child here in Montreal. Sure, most of his family was in the area, and they were close, but from what he’d told her, he didn’t spend much time in the city.
“I don’t know about the tour yet.” He winced, revealing his conflicted emotions. It was obvious the baby was messing up his plans.
His apparent mixed feelings were quickly repressed as his vibrant self-confidence returned. “We’re not flying out for another three weeks. We still have to do the Halloween concert here. Then a two-week break. We have time. Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out.”
She shook her head, half in disbelief and half relieved that he’d be protecting her.
But was he ready to put her and the child before the band? She wasn’t so sure.