Chapter 9 #2
Small fingers trail over the edges of my bump.
“I’ve never met a baby before.” Sunny’s voice is a tickle of warm breath against my side as we sit together at my vanity in the walk-in closet.
Reconciling the lightning farmer to the newest version of myself here with my son dressed in fancy clothes and well-fed…
It’s like I’ve been reborn. Just not into the version I thought I’d become.
This—this is something I never could’ve imagined. Yet, I never imagined him. Both my husband and Sunny.
Grinning down at him, I hold his much smaller hand on my stomach, pressing it down so he can feel the tiny movements his sibling is making. “You’ve seen babies when we’ve gone out before.”
“Yeah… Not so close,” he says, like it’s some big secret.
Finishing my make-up with a red lip, I kiss Sunny’s forehead, leaving my mark. “You’ll be the best big brother ever.” As I look down at him, instead of seeing bright grey eyes, hearty brown ones replace them. It’s Nix, and we are back at the farm, and damn it, I’m crying again.
Sunny notices my tears and stands, a boy on a mission. “I’ll get papa,” he says calmly before darting out of the dressing room. I think he gets that calmness from his father. Not me. Pregnancy hormones are no joke, I’ve learnt. Melek is calm. Nothing wavers him except me.
Through watery eyes, I fumble around, pulling open the top middle drawer, looking for a black container.
One that used to hold a face powder. My fingers encircle around the cool plastic circle, pulling it out and unscrewing the cap.
On the top lies an old creamy-toned blending pad.
A tear drips down, making a soft splash.
The glint of silver peeks out from underneath, and my breath starts to even out.
Lifting the small round puff, the rest of the locket is revealed to me. The very same sterling silver heart-shaped necklace that Mam and Nix gave me on my birthday. The one and only treasure I’ve managed to keep hidden from everyone, including my inquisitive son.
Holding it in my hand, time ceases to exist, and I’m the nineteen-year-old girl on the climbing rods, working for the next strike in my worn overalls. Not this clean woman with a child and a husband, wearing the most gorgeous dress only a fairy could conjure.
Silver gleams in the light coming off the bulbs lining the mirror before me. My fingers tremble running over the smooth silver, unsure if I should open it and see his scribbled attempt at a word on smudged paper.
A click comes from outside the closet, followed by firm, measured steps. Melek. Jumping to stand, the necklace falls from my hands, salt water continuing to stain my cheeks. The locket makes a cracking sound on the table before falling to the carpet below.
Knees knocking, I turn to the man I know is standing at the arch connecting our bedroom to the moody, darkened area that is our walk-in. Think, Storm.
My horrendous acting skills are to be desired.
However, my tears morphed into a torrent upon holding the last gift from my family, so I play to the grief running down my face.
“All I did was look at Eli, and his face made me cry. What’s wrong with me?
” My head darts up to the ceiling, and I pinch the bridge of my nose, hoping the dribbling from my nostrils will stop, even if it is helping the show.
Melek is on me in moments, looking down with his hands on either side of my face, licking his lips. “You look good in that dress, wife.”
I drop my hand to the side and smile warily up at him.
“It’s not too much?”
“With these lips”—he gives me a lingering kiss—“gorgeous blue eyes and these boobs”—he grips my sore breasts, and I whine—“the rest of the council is going to be calling you indecent, but that’s only because they don’t have the privilege of feasting on your body every night.”
Any nervousness I harboured about the locket now works its way down south. I melt into his grip. Why is he saying all these things to me today? All these strangely endearing things. Endearing for Melek. Any other year, it’d be a, “I’d fuck you,” or “I don’t care what you wear.”
“Are you dying?” I ask.
Melek is taken aback, and for the first time, I see surprise on his face. He steps back and begins to laugh. The commander pounds on his chest and coughs, light in his soulless eyes.
“Fucking hell, wife. No. I’m not dying.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
“I…” He straightens, gripping his chiselled chin in thought. “I want you to be well. I want the baby to be well, and I want Sunny to be well.”
There he goes again, calling Eli Sunny. He hasn’t spoken that name since finding me in the kitchen earlier.
“Why are you calling him Sunny?!” Stepping on sure footing into his personal space, a rush of fire pulses through me, challenging him.
Is he trying to trick me? Ensnare me in some weird, hollow Halo trap?
I don’t know what more he could want from me.
He’s an expert manipulator, so I wouldn’t put anything past him.
He got me into his bed. Melek bred me. He was even lucky enough to gain an heir.
Sure, I wanted the kinky sex. The rest were happy bonuses for him.
And I’d never regret my own children. I love them more than life itself.
I’m always screwed where he’s concerned. Hell.
He looks down at me, confusion etched on his brow. “Because that’s what you call him.”
“But you don’t know that.” Anger, pure and fortified, races out to meet him. His black dress shirt is now a casualty in this war as I grip it hungrily within my grasp. “Why are you messing with me?”
He extricates my fingers and forces my hand to lie flat over his heart. “I’m not fucking with you. I’m making sure you and Sunny are happy.”
Liar.
Lingering on this man, I watch how his jaw twitches, fingers gripping just a little harder.
He continues, much softer, gravelled. “Eli told me last year you call him Sunny. He said it was a secret. Made me swear upon his bear bear I would never tell you he told me. After that, I started watching you two more closely, and I’d hear your name for him.
” My husband’s gaze now accusing, I stand taller against him, as if my keeping this secret hurt him.
When in truth nothing hurts him. He only cares that I am not calling him Eli.
That’s it. He doesn’t care that I call him Sunny in solitude, without him.
Without him. My heart sputters at the thought.
The only person I care about is Sunny. Nothing else matters.