Epilogue Two
NICK
SEVEN YEARS LATER
The soft thump of steady kick against my hand fills me with joy like I’ve never known. My mouth curves into a wide smile as I count every kick, each one more ferocious than the last.
“You are quite energetic this morning,” I whisper, careful not to wake my sleeping wife, whose slumber is interrupted quite often these days.
An aggravated groan drags my attention from her swollen belly to her face, twisted in annoyance as she attempts to stretch.
Too late.
Her beautiful eyes groggily open, and she frowns. “Between you and our son - will either of you ever let me sleep?”
Chuckling, I lean over her and kiss her softly on the lips. “His little footprints were visible on your skin.” I trace a single finger down the side of her hard belly, only to be rewarded with another press of his foot against her stomach.
Rhi chuckles. “He loves the sound of your voice.”
My heart swells, and I sit back on the bed, pressing my lips to her stomach. “Good morning, my beautiful boy. I can’t wait to meet you.”
Rhi drums her fingers along the swell of her stomach. “Whenever you would like to come out is more than alright with me.”
I stare at my wife, the reverence in my gaze only growing with each passing day.
Since the moment I met her in Alystair’s hallway all those years ago, I have felt nothing except wonder and awe when it comes to Rhi.
But when she’d told me she was pregnant, those ocean eyes of her swimming with excitement and fear, that wonder and awe amplified, turning into something so profound, I can’t look at her without feeling my heart burst with love and gratitude.
“Maybe I’ll have a birthday buddy,” I joke.
“Ugh. I hope not! That’s another two weeks from now.” She lays back on the bed.
“He’ll come when he’s ready.”
“Which better be soon. Like, tomorrow.”
I smile and shake my head. “I’m going to make you breakfast. Are you in the mood for anything in particular?”
Rhi stares at me beneath her lashes, her lips pulling into a sinister grin.
“Can’t help you with that one, my love. We are short of bodies, at the moment.”
“Fine,” she huffs. “Pancakes. And eggs. Bacon, too.”
“Coming right up.” I peck her on the lips again before I head downstairs to the kitchen.
Rhi and I bought our current home, an 1800s revival colonial about a half hour drive from Alystair as soon as Rhi told me she was pregnant.
Both now professors at Alystair, we had lived at University even after we officially married a little over four years ago, a year after Scarlett and Astrid.
My sister and her wife welcomed their own son just last year and were over the moon to learn he would have a cousin close in age.
I quickly get to work on breakfast, despite the fact that it takes Rhi substantially longer to get ready in the mornings.
I have done what I could to ease her aches and pains during this pregnancy, from back and foot rubs to cooking whatever her craving required.
However, her desire for flesh, which seemed to have increased during this pregnancy, was something I couldn’t always deliver.
If I’d felt protective of Rhi as my soulmate before, the sight of her belly growing with my child made me positively monstrous. I even begged her to take a leave of absence from teaching, as her position as the current Potions professor terrified me.
“Women work all sorts of jobs while pregnant, Nick,” she had said. “I’ll be fine.”
“But I doubt any of those women work alongside mystical poisons designed to kill,” I had argued.
She’d simply smirked. “Then, I guess it’s a good thing I’m immune, which means the baby is as well.”
That was the end of that.
Sure enough, Rhi has not missed a single day of work, even when I had to hold her hair back while she hunched over a toilet due to her morning sickness. Even when she spent nights tossing and turning due to heartburn or those relentless little kicks I had the pleasure of feeling this morning.
I said it before and I’ll say it again: I am in fucking awe of her.
Bacon sizzles, cracking against the cast iron pan.
I flip two of the pancakes, fluffy and golden on the griddle.
Once I remove the bacon, I crack four eggs into the pan, sprinkling salt and pepper on top.
Finally, I turn to the blessed coffee pot, scooping coffee grinds into the filter before pouring in the water and turning it on.
During the early days of Rhi’s pregnancy, her sense of smell was so robust the scent of coffee made her violently ill.
She even refused to come into my office at Alystair if I had snuck a cup of coffee, claiming the smell lingered.
The doorbell rings, and I frown as I glance up from the stove. The digital clock on the oven reads 9:21am. If it were Scarlett or Astrid, they would have told us they were coming.
My skin prickles, the monster beneath my skin writhing.
Who the fuck is at my door?
“Nick?” Rhi calls, still thankfully in our bedroom.
“Stay upstairs,” I warn.
I pull my phone from my pocket, checking the cameras at the front door. A young man and woman await, and even though I can’t completely discern their features, something about the man throws me off.
The woman fidgets, eyes darting around. Yet the man has his focus lasered on her, a familiar and recognizable expression on his face.
Infatuation.
Deciding they shouldn’t be too much of a threat - there aren’t many who can take on The Devil, after all- I open the door.
Startled, the girl jumps as her hazel eyes widen, while her companion’s alarming jade eyes narrow - at me - in response.
“Hi.” She swallows. “Are you Mr. Cervallos?”
“Who wants to know?”
Her rather pale companion clenches his jaw, veins popping in his neck. “We are from Ravenhollow University. We would like to speak with your wife.”
At that, I step outside and close the door behind me.
“What do two bloodthirsty witches want with my wife?” I snarl, fangs now visible.
The girl’s tanned skin pales, but the young man merely smirks, as though he is internally making a joke at my expense.
Dick.
“If you let us in, we would be happy to tell you,” he says.
“Not until I know who the fuck you are, and don’t lie, because I will know -” My malicious gaze centers on the girl, “and you won’t like what happens in the aftermath.”
The young man bares his own set of fangs, much to my surprise. “Don’t you dare fucking threaten her.”
“Enough.” The girl holds up her hand before dropping it. “My name is Cecilia Dumont, and this is Lochlan de Valera. We have to come to speak with your wife because we understand she can help us in a very important and dire matter regarding poison.”
My entire body stiffens. Though her request seems innocuous, I don’t trust the witches of Ravenhollow, who are known for their Machiavellian nature. I certainly do not trust her companion, who I recognized upon the declaration of his last name.
There is not a fucking chance in Hell that I would ever let my wife, my pregnant wife, near a vampire.
Especially the Vampire Prince.