There’s A Second Heartbeat
there’s a second heartbeat
The fire in my blood has finally cooled. As I open my eyes, the air no longer smells like my rut; it smells like fresh-cut grass after a spring rain, and something beautifully new.
Eden stirs beside me, letting out a sleepy sigh.
Do you smell her? Ashán rasps.
I don’t just smell her. I consume her. The wild, intoxicating heat that has driven me mad for days has vanished, replaced by a scent so rich and maternal that it makes the vines woven into the headboard bloom in a sudden burst of pink flowers.
My hand trembles as it slides down her bare hip, my claws carefully retracting until only the soft tips of my fingers brush her skin.
I press my palm against the smooth curve of her stomach, and a blinding rush of green light pulses behind my eyelids as my magic sinks beneath her skin, searching until I feel it—a heartbeat so fast and fragile it sounds like the flutter of a hummingbird’s wing, safely nestled deeply inside the warmth of Eden.
Ours, Ashán chokes out... We made a life. She’s carrying our little nestling.
Tears sting my eyes.
Eden stays fast asleep, her long, copper eyelashes casting soft shadows against her cheeks as she sinks deeper into the flower nest. She looks so small… so terribly, beautifully mortal.
We can’t let them touch her, Ashán’s voice sharpens. If that bronze-headed vreshká takes a single step toward her— (Fucker)
His panic claws at the back of our throat. The vines on the headboard twist violently, crushing the freshly bloomed flowers under the suffocating squeeze of my magic. My wings twitch, aching to rip ourselves out of this bed and build a wall of thorns and bone ten feet thick around her.
I want to swallow her whole. I want to bury her so deep in the earth that they can never, ever find her.
I press my nose into the crook of her neck, breath hitching as I inhale her scent. I sweep my wings over the mattress until they seal us into a world big enough for two… three. She lets out a breathy sigh, her hands blindly reaching out for me.
“Sage. Ashán.” Her voice is thick with sleep.
My left side shifts, flesh melting away in a ripple of dark, smoking shadow until his gleaming white vorí replaces it.
He presses his hand against her stomach, right beside mine. Eden’s small fingers lace between my warm, living knuckles and the smooth, hard curve of Ashán’s, binding us all together.
“Something’s different,” she whispers. Her gaze drops to our stacked hands.
I swallow past a thick lump in my throat. My wings throw an iridescent shadow across her face as I press closer.
“You aren’t alone in there anymore, Saevúra,” I choke out. My hand gently squeezes hers, while Ashán’s fingers trace the patch of skin right over the tiny pulse. “There’s a second heartbeat. Right here.”
The air inside our wing cocoon grows still.
“How is that possible?” she breathes, her eyes snapping up to lock with mine. “We just—last night?”
A laugh escapes me, as another tear slips free. “Our nestling won’t grow the way a human infant does. It’s kind of like how a tree starts in the soil long before it breaks through.”
“She needed a piece of each of us—Sage’s lavásia, my venya,” Ashán explains.
“She?” Eden breathes. “It’s a girl?”
A proud grin splits our face.
“A tiny princess,” he confirms. “Her soul is so small, but it’s already humming. Light and shadow, woven right down the middle.”
She looks down at her belly, a soft laugh bubbling out of her. “We’re having a girl!”
“Our daughter,” I say, curling our hands tighter. “Our little nestling.”
A tremor rattles through the floorboards, so hard it makes the heavy wood of the bedframe groan. The walls shriek as they’re slammed repeatedly with something metal.
It’s the Horsemen, Ashán mutters.
We’re out of bed before the next strike lands, pulling the blanket over Eden in the same motion.
“Sage?”
“Stay here.” I cup her jaw. “Please, Saevúra. The Horsemen are here, and the bond still isn’t sealed.”
As the door closes, a thread of Ashán’s shadow separates from our spine, sliding through the small opening and winding around her ankle.
I can feel the shadow’s attempt to soothe Eden through the bond.
I’m going to rip them apart, he snarls. They dare to interrupt this moment?
Our wings flare behind us.
Another metallic CLANG vibrates through Nook.
We hit the bottom of the stairs, and Damien is already there, planted square in the center of the foyer, between the front door and the staircase.
The gaping wound at his shoulder isn’t any better than last night, but he’s here, exhausted and wounded, standing between a threat and a bond that isn’t even his.
Huh. Ashán murmurs. Maybe I misjudged this one.
High praise coming from you.
“They’ve been at it for four minutes,” Damien murmurs. “The house won’t let them in, and that one—” He points to War through the window, “—is taking it personally.”
CLANG.
“Reaper!” War bellows, slamming against the barrier. “It has been three days. Open this sāken? door before I tear the whole meadow apart. (Fucking)
Behind him, Famine leans against a tree with the patience of a stone. Pestilence is a silent shadow at the tree line. And Death simply waits, his blade resting across his lap.
“He isn’t tearing anything apart,” I growl as I wrap my clawed fingers around the heavy brass handle. The wood writhes beneath my touch, a low warning against my palm before it yields. I yank the door inward, and the morning air rushes in, heavy with the scent of the Riders.
“You’re late,” War booms, stepping to the threshold.
“Late? The sun has barely cleared the trees, Horseman. It’s dawn on the third day. By any count that matters, we have until nightfall—so unless you’ve forgotten how to read the sky, you’re early.”
The bronze plates of his shoulder armor grind in annoyance. “Semantics,” he growls. “You will not have an answer at nightfall any more than you have one now—”
“Then you have wasted a perfectly good tantrum, haven’t you?” I murmur.”The bond hasn’t sealed, and we don’t know why. That hasn’t changed.”
His bell tilts in the direction of the staircase, fury draining out of him. His gauntleted hands fall slack at his sides.
“There’s a third heartbeat,” he says quietly.
The whole world narrows to a pinpoint.
“You’d do well not to finish that—”
“A baby.” His bell rings once, hand lifting toward the door in pure wonder. “Reaper. You made a—”
“Don’t say it!” Ashán explodes to the surface. An absolute tsunami of black magic forcibly erupts from our spine. Shadows surge forward, shrieking like a thousand dying souls as they engulf him. They lift his heavily armored frame right off the porch.
Ashán, stop! I roar, trying to yank on the reins of our power, but it’s like trying to leash a wildfire with my bare hands. I stumble, my right hand clawing at my own chest as I attempt to pull the shadows back. He wasn’t threatening her. Reel it in!
The yard outside erupts into chaos. Nook wails in warning, the walls juddering so hard dust pours from the ceiling. Damien’s massive, stitched arms flare out as he prepares to throw his towering weight between the Horsemen and me.
Famine is off the tree in a flash, his frail-looking frame radiating an oppressive hunger, his eyes flashing with surprise. Pestilence surges forward, a swarm of rot following his heels, while Death’s blade materializes from his lap into his hand with a lethal hiss.
Down the thread we left curled around her ankle, I feel Eden’s panic—she’s crying.
Ashán! She’s afraid, I breathe. She can feel all of this.
The shadows falter.
No—Ashán’s voice cracks.
War drops an inch, gasping for air as his hands claw at the smoky shadows around his neck.
Her next sob shudders down the thread, and it guts him. Because this is the one thing Ashán cannot handle. He can rage at gods. He can strangle Horsemen. But he cannot be the reason she cries.
Black tendrils unspool from War’s body so fast he drops on his ass. The shadow leeches back into our spine, vorí receding as flesh knits back over bone.
I made her cry, Ashán whispers.
The weight of his guilt leaves me breathless. He retreats so deeply into the dark corners of our mind that the connection goes completely numb.
War stays seated, his chest heaving as he sucks lungfuls of morning air.
My head automatically turns toward the staircase.
“Kaeran,” Famine’s rasping voice cuts through the quiet, cautious as he moves toward the porch. “Can you stand?”
He lets out a rough cough, his bell tilting at me as he forces himself back onto his feet.
Damien steps toward me, but keeps his eyes trained on Death’s sword.
“Sage. Go to Eden. I’ve got the door.”
“Wait!” Kaeran shouts.
He rolls his shoulders and stands to his full height, bell pointing towards the staircase.
“... I understand.” The words seem to cause him physical discomfort. “You thought I was a threat to your mate. To the—” His bell dips in a rigid bow. “I sensed something I had no right to name.” He pauses. “That was… an overstep. I would have done the same… worse, probably.”
Famine’s eyes widen slightly.
“We will give you your time,” he says. “But if the bond is not sealed by the time that bloom opens… we will be back.” He jabs a finger at me, the gruffness rushing back.
A tense silence falls over the meadow.
“Deal,” I mutter.
Kaeran gives me a stiff nod before he turns on his heel.
Famine’s hollow eyes linger on the front door for a fraction of a second longer, a silent check on Eden’s safety, before he slips into the tall grass, his gaunt frame swallowing the distance in a single heartbeat.
Pestilence follows, his robed form blurring at the edges before dissolving into a cloud of black moths.
Death is the last to leave, simply disappearing as if he had never been there.
Damien holds his guard, staying planted in the center of the porch, his stitches stretching as his chest expands with labored breaths.
“I’ll watch over the yard, Sage,” he murmurs over his shoulder. “Go ahead. Go check on Eden.”
“Thank you,” I breathe, not waiting for his response before I turn and take the stairs three at a time.
Ashán? I call out internally. Ready to check on our girl?
The silence is deafening. There’s no dark current of energy or possessive snarl. There’s… nothing.
The Horsemen are gone, I reassure him. She’s okay. Talk to me.
Not a single shred of shadow answers my call. His consciousness has completely pulled back.
He really thinks he’s a monster now…
I throw the bedroom door open. Eden is sitting on the floor, under the window, with her hands pressed tightly over her ears. Her knees are pulled to her chest, eyes squeezed shut as her small body shudders with muffled sobs.
“Saevúra.”
I press my palms right over hers, adding a second barrier against the world. I press my forehead against hers, projecting nothing but warmth, safety, and immovable calm into the bond.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper against her temple. “They’re gone, Eden. The clearing is empty. The house is quiet. It’s just me. It’s just Sage.”
“It was louder than it’s ever been before,” she whispers as her eyes crack open. She slowly lowers her hands. “He was so angry, Sage. I’ve never felt something so…”
A lump forms in my throat. I squeeze her closer, burying my face in her hair as my wings tuck tighter around us.
“He’s not angry anymore,” I murmur.
Down our bond, where an intensely protective presence hums alongside my own, there is a terrifyingly icy void. I reach into the dark, silently begging my other half to surface.
Ashán. Please. She needs you.
Eden’s brow furrows, her wet lashes blinking up at me.
“Sage… why can’t I feel him?”