Epilogue #3
Asan glanced at Kain, silently asking for his intervention. “My queen, your child is lovely and well, but often breeders can find it difficult to bond with their sons if the first impression is of his demon form.”
“Give. Me. My. Child.” This time, she sounded more like a feral wolf than a woman in the aftermath of childbirth. “Now.”
Kain nodded at the doctor. This had to happen.
Hesitantly, Asan placed their son in Selma’s arms—and the feral snarl instantly drained from her face.
“Look at you,” she whispered, pulling him in to her breast, eyes soft and searching his features, as if she was committing every monstrous detail to memory.
“Look at your itty-bitty horns.” She stroked a gentle finger over the two circular shapes on his skull from where his horns would eventually erupt. “You look just like your daddy.”
She accepted him. Even like this; exhausted and vulnerable, blood and birthing fluids covering the bed and their demon child, there was nothing but love in her voice as she greeted their newborn.
And he felt it too—their son. His cry cut off as he felt his mother’s warmth, black eyes staring up at her with bewilderment. As if he couldn’t quite comprehend that this was the world he’d been born into. That someone so pure and good was his mother.
Kain was only aware he was crying when his tears splattered on Selma’s shoulder. Wordlessly, he hugged her from behind and pressed his head to the side of hers, unwilling and unable to stop staring at the infant in her arms. His son.
“Come cut the umbilical cord, Your Majesty,” Dr. Asan called, his voice gentler than before.
Kain quickly wiped his eyes and nodded, easing Selma back against the cushions as she returned their child to the doctor. The baby began fussing immediately, annoyed at being separated from his mother.
In that, too, he was similar to his dad.
Kain’s hands shook as he cut the umbilical cord, but when the doctor then placed the baby in them, they stilled.
His son. He stared down at his baby, so tiny one of his hands could hold him safely. He still wrapped both around him and pulled him up to his chest, instincts hard-wired to keep him safe kicking in so fiercely it took his breath away.
“Welcome to the world, little one,” he whispered softly.
His son, still fussing at being separated from Selma, looked up at him with dark, serious eyes. His annoyed mews softened to coos, then stopped as he took in his father for the first time.
“I think he recognizes your voice,” Selma said. “Look how he’s staring up at you. That’s your daddy, baby.”
The sound of Selma speaking made the little one squark, then open his tiny mouth in an almighty bellow.
“Oof,” Kain said with a wince. “He recognizes yours too. All right, let’s get you back to your mother!”
Kain grimaced and hastily returned the baby to Selma’s chest. He kept fussing until she popped a nipple in his mouth. Then the angry wail cut off, swiftly replaced by immediate suckling as nursing instincts kicked in.
Selma smiled down at her baby, entranced. Kain couldn’t blame her; he was mesmerized by the sight of his son in his mate’s arms too.
He had a son. His beloved had birthed him a son. No matter how many times he returned to that baffling thought, it took his breath away.
“I’ll do anything for the two of you,” he said quietly. “Anything.”
His mate looked up at him, her expression soft.
“You already have. Our son won’t know how lucky we are—he’ll grow up so safe and loved it’ll be the norm to him.
But I’ll know. And I’ll never forget.” She reached out the hand not cradling their baby, inviting Kain into the sacred space of her maternal embrace.
There was not a power on this Earth strong enough to keep him away.
Groaning softly, Kain climbed into the still-slick bed and wrapped himself around Selma’s back.
The primal scent of blood and life and her filled his senses, centered him.
He looked over his mate’s shoulder at his son safely suckling from her breast, and a calm unlike any other washed over him.
His son would know nothing but safety and love, but it wasn’t because of Kain, as his mate believed—it was because of her.
She’d give their child the love Kain’s mother hadn’t been able to give him, and the war Kain had waged to ensure their son would grow up safe? It was because of her.
She was their reason. Their center. His soul.
Kain stayed until Selma had delivered the afterbirth. While the doctor checked her over to ensure everything was as it should be, he finally forced himself to leave, to send out the news that the queen had born him an heir.
He called Kesh first. Thomren second. Then Governor Maell. And finally, when he could put it off no longer, he went to his father.
As expected, Kirigan was in the library, the usual glass of amber liquor in his hand. But instead of being buried in crumbling texts, the ancient demon stood in front of the window, staring at the darkened sky beyond.
“Your grandson has been born.”
Kirigan exhaled softly. For several tense moments, that was the only sign he’d heard the news. Finally he said, “And the mother? Is she well?”
“Selma’s fine.”
His father’s only response was to take a swig from his glass.
Kain knew this was as much as he could expect from the mad demon. It was better than he’d expected, really. Whatever salvation he’d found in Selma’s arms, the birth of another male to his lineage brought nothing but darkness and pain to his father.
Kirigan deserved every ounce of torment for what he’d done to the woman who was incapable of loving her demon spawn. The birth of his grandchild should bring him no happiness, no respite.
And still… in this one moment, all Kain wanted was for the man who’d sired him to see his child and know how utterly, completely perfect he was. How this one moment in time was entirely untainted by the horrors of their past because his son had been born.
“Do you want to see him?”
Silence.
“Dad. I want you to see him.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Kain frowned at his father’s back. His posture was straight, strong, but his hand trembled ever so slightly around the glass.
“I won’t let you hurt them.” It should have sounded like a threat, but it wasn’t. “I promise.”
Kirigan sighed again. “The mother… is she…?”
“Selma’s happy. She loves him. She’s already so bonded to him. Like she has been from the moment she realized he was in her womb. And he… he’s amazing, Dad. Just… absolutely perfect.”
“You were too, when you were born—perfect,” Kirigan said quietly. He finally turned around then, his dark eyes haunted and distant. “It was the first time I experienced love… when I saw you that day. Small. Defenseless. Covered in your mother’s blood.”
A long moment of silence passed between them.
Before Selma, Kain had always believed his father had loved the woman he’d mated.
That it’d been a dark, twisted love that’d rendered him incapable of releasing his hold on her even as it destroyed her.
After he’d met Selma, Kain had finally understood that what his father had felt couldn’t have been the same kind of all-consuming emotion Kain shared with his mate, because he’d been willing to let her go if it meant she was free. Happy.
He hadn’t realized until now that Kirigan knew too.
“The breeder… Selma… did she sustain injuries?” Kirigan asked.
“No. She’s well. And happy,” Kain repeated.
His father nodded once and downed the rest of his drink. When he put the empty glass down, he drew in a deep breath, visibly steeling himself. “Fine. Introduce me to your son, Kain.”
Selma was still nursing their newborn when he entered the bedroom. She looked up with a smile that withered some at the edges when Kirigan followed him. Instinctively, she clutched the baby a little closer.
“I’ve brought my father to meet his grandson,” Kain said softly. He crossed the floor to her side, ensuring she knew she and their son were safe. He’d never let anyone harm them, not even his unstable father.
Kirigan’s eyes were glued to the bed. His nostrils flared as he took in the smell of birth, and a tremble worked its way through his body. But when he spoke, his voice was calm—almost detached.
“Congratulations. Your son is indeed a fine specimen. A proud addition to our bloodline. I can sense his strength already—he will grow to be exceptionally powerful within a few years, I’m certain. What will you name him?”
Kain nodded, pride swelling in his chest as he looked down at his son. “Kamaran.”
“A demon name,” Kirigan said. He looked to Selma, his eyes boring into hers. “You accept this, breeder?”
She arched an eyebrow. “He doesn’t really look like a Brian, does he? Yes, I accept it. I think it’s perfect.”
His father’s eyes widened ever-so slightly, and he snapped his gaze to Kain. “You let her see his true form? Are you mad?”
“No one lets me see my child.” Selma’s voice cracked like a whip. “He is mine. I’ve known what he would look like since he was conceived, and I don’t need make-believe or coddling to shield me from that fact. My son’s true face doesn’t scare me, Kirigan. I am the Queen of Demons.”
“So you are, little breeder. So you are.” Kirigan’s expression softened as he returned his focus to her.
Perhaps if Kain hadn’t been staring so proudly at his fierce mate, he would have noticed the unsettling intensity flickering in his father’s eyes, burrowing deep into the fabric of his broken mind.
END