Warlord's Baby: Warlord Brides (Warriors of Sangrin Book 5)

by Nancey Cummings

  She didn’t feel like his wife. She felt like… she didn’t know. Nothing as kind as being a wife.

  Mercy fiddled with the pillow on her lap.

  “Do you think I’m stupid?” Her voice wavered at the end of the question. The other brides that arrived on the Judgment were professional, skilled and so talented. They were nurses, engineers, computer programmers, school teachers, a chemist, a botanist and she was… nothing special. Paax was a genius, a no-joke genius. He designed the genetic test that matched women to the Mahdfel, which matched them. And what did she do?

  She worked in a vet’s office back on Earth. She didn’t do any of the complex procedures like draw blood. Mostly she cleaned up after the animals. She barely finished school. College was out of the question, not when she had to take care of her mother.

  “How can you think that of me?”

  “How can I not? You don’t ask for my opinion. You don’t ask for my input. You make decisions without me.”

  “A warlord makes decisions! I do not have the time to consult you about every detail in running this clan.”

  “I’m not talking about the warlord business.” Mercy moved both to the left, pointing to an invisible box. “I’m talking about us.” She moved her hands to the right, indicated another invisible box. “You make decisions that affect both of us. You kept information from me, like I’m a child or you think I couldn’t possibly understand, like you don’t respect me.”

  “I have never said those words.”

  “You don’t have to say the words! Actions speak loud enough!” She gestured widely with one hand and knocked over the cup of tea. The plastic material bounced on the floor and a bot rolled out, cleaning up the spill. She wanted to throw something, to bust some dished but all the cups were plastic and bots did all the cleaning. The brutal efficiency took away all the cathartic joy of a proper tantrum.

  Paax retrieved the cup and placed it on the table. The scolding look he gave her was worse than anything he could have said. If she didn’t want to be treated like a child, she shouldn’t act like one.

  Mercy rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Look, I’m sorry I yelled. That’s not productive.”

  “No one is perfect.”

  She raised an eyebrow. Now was not the time for Paax to get a sassy attitude. “On Earth we have a few words to mean the person we married: wife, husband, spouse and partner.”

  “I am familiar with these titles.”

  “I don’t feel like your partner, Paax. We don’t talk. We don’t work together. We don’t make decisions together.”

  “We talk. We’re talking now.”

  They were fighting now but Mercy didn’t want to lose her train of thought to correct him. “You buy me toys. You give me playthings. You give me scraps of your attention. I’m not your partner, Paax. I’m a pet.”

  “You are no such thing. You are my mate.” He took her roughly in his arms and pulled to his chest, holding her here as if to placate her.

  Mercy didn’t struggle. There was no point. He was solid muscle and there was no escaping his embrace until he released her. Why couldn’t he admit that what he did was crappy? Why did he always have to be justified? Even if keeping her in the dark was—somehow—justified, he could at least acknowledge her hurt emotions.

  A cry pierced the air. Her breasts ached in response. Feeding time.

  “I have to go,” she said and Paax released her. “We’re not done discussing this.”

  “There is more?”

  “Yes, there’s more! You don’t know the first thing about me.”

  “I know enough.”

  “If we were just starting out, sure, but we’re a year into this and can you name my favorite Beatle?”

  His brow furrowed. “Coleoptera? You make no sense.”

  “They were human musicians and George Harrison, thanks for asking. Honestly, Paax, this is the part of the argument where you should be asking me questions to show some interest. What’s my favorite color? Song? Food?”

  Paax was silent, proving her point. They were strangers.

  The wail increased in pitch. Her little man was hungry and impatient. “Let me feed him and we can talk.”

  When Mercy came back to the common room, baby nestled against her chest, she found the space empty. Paax was gone. She lowered herself to the sofa, cradling her son as he fed. Light gleamed off something on the low table, catching her attention.

  She picked up a crystal starburst pendant, sans chain. Amethyst colored stones formed the tips of the star. It was another lovely and ultimately empty trinket. She’d add it to the pile.

  Paax

  Fury propelled Paax forward. The training bots took the brunt of his frustration. As he pounded the machine, denting the frame, disabling it and summoning a replacement, the other warriors gave him a wide berth. Exercise was a good outlet but none of them wanted to be the one to absorb their warlord’s blows. Better a few broken training bots than broken limbs.

  He growled in annoyance. His warriors should not be so soft to avoid a few broken bones and injuries. Those could be healed easily enough, unlike his mate’s heart.

  His mate was unhappy and he did not understand the reason. Everything he had done was done with her comfort and safety in mind. Everything.

  A flurry of blows landed on the training bot. It stumbled under the pummeling before regaining its footing and blocked Paax’s sword. Unfortunately it did not block the war hammer aimed for its head. The metal casing crumpled with impact. Another bot disabled.

  Unacceptable. He needed better equipment.

  Had he not become warlord to spare her from Omas’ cruelty? He challenged his brother for her, his twin… The void in his soul once occupied by his twin never healed. He lived with the sensation of being incomplete for her.

  Only her.

  His chest heaved with exertion.

  The problem she described required more than assigning another warrior to her guard, more than finding a botanist to grow flowers to decorate their apartment, and more than having a chef prepare her meals, more than bringing her Terran family to her.

  He had no idea how to fix this.

  He knew his wife intimately on a physical level but they remained strangers intellectually.

  Sharing his thought process had never been his strength. He often leapt ahead of others and forgot to explain his leaps. As a geneticist he brought results and no one questioned his methodology. He brought Mercy results. He changed so much of his world for her, to carve out a peaceful existence for their family, and she failed to recognize his actions for the acts of devotion that they were. He failed to explain himself.

  Had his parents experienced this? Neither were around to ask and Paax only had his foggy memories to guide him.

  His mother was always pregnant, usually with twins. He remembered that clearly. He remembered her hugs and her soft, round belly. He remembered times when she was sick in the mornings and then times when she went to medical. Why, he could not say exactly, but he knew that he and Omas were his parents’ only surviving children. He could only speculate that she lost all the others.

  It had to wear on his mother and his father. Did the need for solace and comfort bring them together? Or did repeated loss build a wall of silence between them?

  All he wanted was to spare his mate the pain his mother endured.

  Good intentions meant nothing if he didn’t explain himself.

  Chapter Nine

  Mercy

  One Week Later

  The thing about an argument is they take real commitment to keep alive. Without dedicated time and energy, the reason for the argument might not slip away but the feelings of betrayal diminish. After a week of feeding two hungry infants, changing diapers and sleeping at most than two hours at a stretch, Mercy was too exhausted to keep fighting.

  Paax came and went but they didn’t talk. Not really. They exchange updates about their children. Their interactions were polite with a chill of distance that did
not help her feel better at all. She poured out her grief and frustration to her husband and what did he do? He left for a day. When he came back, he didn’t address their argument. He acted as if nothing happened.

  Mercy refused to act as if nothing happened.

  She wasn’t wrong to be upset. Her feelings were not just hormones and not just exhaustion. They were real. The problem was real. Her husband did not respect her or treat her like a partner.

  She had no idea what to do, so she did the basics: feed the babies, change the babies, sleep, shower—yeah, that hadn’t happened in three days—and remember to eat. Repeat.

  The Naming Ceremony inched closer by the day but it was easy to forget herself in the daily routine of being a mom. To think she was worried about being a good mom–she’d laugh if she had the energy. Her own insecurities gnawed away, comparing herself to the other women on the Judgment. So many of them were professionals but Mercy had cared for her ill mother for years. If anyone was prepared to be a mother, it was her.

  Mylomon arrived just as she put Axil and Drake down to sleep. She decided on the names Paax suggested—the good ones— and even had an idea who was who. Axil was far more demanding and more of a biter when it came to feeding. Drake was relaxed and had to be coaxed into nursing. She hoped he didn’t grow into a fussy eater.

  “Warlord’s female—”

  “Paax isn’t here.” He was spending more time in his ready room and she suspected that he slept there. He certainly wasn’t sleeping in their bed.

  “I came to speak with you.” His tone was precise, overly formal and made her suspicious.

  “What do you want?”

  He held out a dark fist and opened it, palm up. A crystal bead rested in the palm of his hand, so small and delicate in his huge paw. He looked at her expectantly. When she didn’t react, he shook his hand as if encouraging her to take the bead.

  “I don’t know what you want.”

  “This is for you.”

  “I really don’t know what you mean.”

  Mylomon sighed, his massive shoulders heaving. “You dislike me so much that you refuse my gift?”

  “You didn’t exactly make a great first impression but what are you talking about?”

  “Paax did not explain.” Not a question, a statement. Paax explained nothing. Typical.

  “Maybe you can explain it to me.”

  “This,” he said, holding the bead up so that the light caught in its belly, “is tradition. A new father presents his mate with a token, a pendant or stone, in appreciation for all that she has given him.”

  Mercy nodded. Gifts of jewelry she understood.

  “It is good luck for the unmated and childless males to give smaller tokens to the new mother, so that her fortune and fertility may reflect back on them.”

  Her hand sought the crystal and amethyst pendant in the robe pocket. “He never mentioned this.”

  “Then I am honored to give you the first token. Please accept.”

  “So that Daisy will get pregnant?”

  His eyes gleamed. “So that she will remain healthy and thrive.”

  “Thank you, I’m touched.” She accepted the bead. A starburst pattern was carved into the surface and a small hole bored through the center, the perfect width for a chain. “This is lovely.”

  “And I apologize for my first impression.” He bowed his head slightly, conveying sincerity.

  “You stabbed me.”

  “I followed orders.”

  “Those orders sucked.”

  “Yes, but it was necessary. Necessity is often unpleasant.”

  Mercy narrowed her eyes. “You trying to imply something?”

  A grin broke across his face. She fought the urge to recoil back because, dang it, he was a predator barring his teeth and it was terrifying. “If I have something to say, I say it directly.”

  “That’s not what Daisy says. She says you’re all about those long silences filled with meaningful looks and sighs.”

  “I do not sigh.” His head tilted, listening to something only he could hear. “You should discuss pregnancy risks with Meridan.”

  Mercy rolled the bead in her hand. “That traitor? She could have told me about the twins but didn’t, so I don’t think so.”

  “I followed the standard protocol, so that makes me a traitor?” Meridan set her bag on the table near the entryway.

  Mercy blushed. She would have never criticized the nurse had she known Meridan was in the room. Not in the room was a different, criticism-filled, story. “I thought my check-ups were over.”

  “Yeah, well, my darling husband is working my last nerve today, so I thought I’d make a house call,” Meridan said, opening her bag. “How are you feeling?”

  “Tired.”

  Mylomon bowed and showed himself out.

  Meridan waved a scanner over Mercy. “Any pain? Nausea?”

  Mercy shook her head. “Physically I feel good. Surprisingly good.”

  The nurse examined the incision and pressed down on her abdomen before instructing Mercy to lay down. She pressed down on her belly again before having her roll over and repeat the motion on her back. “And emotionally?”

  “If you’re trying to ask if I’m still pissed, you know the answer to that.”

  Meridan patted her on the shoulder, indicating that she could sit up. “I’m a hypocrite, I know.”

  “You knew I was having twins the entire time and you didn’t tell me. Not once. You knew Kalen and Paax were keeping it from me and you didn’t lose a bit of sleep, did you?”

  “Don’t get too comfortable on your high horse.”

  Mercy snorted. Her high horse was very comfortable.

  “You are in the very lucky minority of women who have delivered surviving twins,” Meridan said, voice laced with authority. “Half of all twin pregnancies will lose one baby; 25% lose both babies. And it’s well documented that stress, even a small amount of stress, has drastic impacts on the mother’s health. And if we told you? You’d want to know those statistics, wouldn’t rest until we told you, and those numbers are pretty darn grim. So we decided to not tell you, to avoid stress during pregnancy and to minimize complications.”

  Minimize complications. Mercy hated how clinical that sounded, how cold. “If the worst happened, if I lost one of my sons… would you have even told me?”

  Meridan fiddled with the instrument in her hand before raising her eyes to meet Mercy’s gaze. “Its standard procedure to let the mate decide how much information is disclosed.”

  “So no.” Paax already said he wouldn’t tell her, in a misguided effort to shield her from heartbreak. He didn’t see the issue and Meridan actually defended their crummy decision. “It’s so—”

  “Demeaning? Belittling? Disenfranchising?”

  Mercy nodded.

  “The alternative is heartbreaking.”

  “What happens if I have twins again?”

  “Survival odds decrease.”

  Mercy rubbed the spot between her eyes. “How is that even possible? And how is it that everyone seems to think that I should be grateful that I was lied to for nine months.”

  Meridan did not answer, instead packing away her instrument. “You’re recovering nicely. Try to sleep more.”

  “Yeah, sure.” She slept when she could. At least Axil and Drake were on the same sleep cycle now but that had its problems. Two hungry babies awake and demanding to nurse made for some interesting juggling. “What I need is another set of arms.”

  “Can I examine the babies now?”

  Meridan performed her check on the sleeping infants. Either they were deep sleepers or Meridan had a light touch because Axil and Drake slept through the entire examination.

  “Good weight. Good color. Strong vitals. How is their appetites?”

  “Voracious.”

  “And bowel movements?”

  “Disgusting.”

  She snickered. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be grossed out when it’s yo
ur own kid.”

  Two times the diapers took away cuteness and multiplied the gross. Mercy paused. “I can’t get pregnant again, can I? Nursing stops that?”

  “You absolutely can get pregnant again, but it’s probably way too soon to think about sex. You need to heal.”

  She couldn’t roll her eyes hard enough. She needed to get her husband in the same room and talk to him before she’d consider sex. Even so, she wasn’t ready for another baby.

  “I have patient confidentiality with you, right?”

  “Yes. Anything you say is confidential and no one need know.”

  “Not even the head of medicine?”

  Meridan paused before answering. “If it is vital to your health or safety, I am obligated to report that.”

  “And you can’t tell anyone?”

  “Your medical information is confidential,” Meridan said.

  Mercy nodded, believing that the nurse took her profession seriously and would not gossip with her husband about their conversation. “It’s not that I don’t want more kids. I do, but I’m not ready. I don’t want—”

  The nurse nodded and rooted in her bag, withdrawing a canister. “Birth control is a standard recommendation after pregnancy. Your body suffered a great deal of stress and needs time to recover before going through that stress again.”

  “I just need to sleep.” And shower. And brush her hair.

  Meridan loaded the canister into a hypospray and pressed it against Mercy’s arm. She felt the slightest pinch. “This will last for a year. It can be neutralized with another injection but I caution against that. A year is a good break between batches. You’ll still get wellness checks, too.”

  Mercy rubbed her arm, barely listening. “Thank you.”

  Paax

  There was always some issue or problem to command a warlord’s attention. Paax kept himself busy and found plenty of reasons to remain in his ready room and not return to his shared quarters with his mate. The ship’s computer monitored Mercy and sent him notifications when she was asleep. That was when he returned home to hold his sons and tell them of the great deeds of his father and his father’s father. They barely listened and were far more interested in tugging on his lips and hair. The strength in their grip pleased him. They were small for Mahdfel infants but they were mighty.