Blood of Eve

by Pam Godwin

  I pulled on a pair of cotton shorts and a t-shirt. “If my blood is a vaccine, maybe we could start passing out vials, or clone it somehow?”

  “Evie,” Michio growled. “You can’t.”

  Because I couldn’t drain myself of the nourishment needed by my baby. Fuck.

  Jesse strode to the bag and pulled out two pairs of sweatpants, tossing one to Michio. “It’s not a bad idea. We could draw her blood in small doses. We have electricity here to refrigerate it. Though I don’t know how we’d disperse it.”

  Michio dressed, pinning me with a stern look. “Tell them.”

  My chest crushed beneath the weight of his command.

  “Tell us what?” Jesse’s head snapped up.

  His lower half was covered in sweatpants, the smooth skin of his chest glistening with water and his cheekbones sharpening with the intensity of his scowl.

  Michio stepped behind me. I waited for him to lash out at Jesse and Roark for fucking me. Waited for him to blame Jesse for knocking me up.

  Instead, he folded his arms around my waist and touched a warm kiss to my temple. “Do you want me to tell them?”

  I shook my head and dug deep, searching for the right words.

  Roark watched me struggle, his mouth turned down and his jade eyes several shades darker than usual.

  I feared their reactions. What if they suggested an abortion? No, they would never want that. What if Roark turned on Jesse and beat the shit out of him? Or what if they weren’t upset? If they reacted with relief because humanity’s future was more important than my own? I mean, it was, but… Fuck, I was tangling myself up in what-ifs.

  I pulled in a deep breath and pushed it out. “I just…I want you guys to be happy. I’m…God, I’m so happy, and I want you to feel this way, too.”

  My eyes teared up. Fucking hormones.

  Roark crossed his arms and gave me a What the hell? look while Jesse cocked his head and stared hard into my eyes.

  Shit, I was dragging this out, making it worse. “I’ve experienced some weird changes. The extra energy. I can blow up bugs. The…uh, high-octane sex drive.”

  Jesse’s eyes snapped wide, and his gaze dropped to my stomach.

  “No.” Roark shook his head, his arms falling at his sides.

  I clenched my fingers around Michio’s hands at my waist. “I’m pregnant.”

  As the words left my mouth, Roark spun away and smacked his palms on the wall. His head dropped between the support of his arms, and the muscled line of his spine pinched as he sucked in a heavy breath.

  My ribs constricted so tightly it felt as though everything was suffocating inside.

  Beside him, Jesse paled. His shock quickly tightened into denial then darkened into anger.

  “There must be a mistake,” he growled. “The child can’t be mine.”

  The steam-filled bathroom closed in around me, the rush of my breaths adding to the stifling humidity. Had I been where Jesse and Roark stood now, listening to one of them tell me, in not so many words, he would be dying, I would’ve been in denial, too. Then I would’ve lost my fucking shit.

  But instead I stood on the other side, enveloped in Michio’s arms, my heart breaking and my legs locking, braced for the ground to shake beneath the quake of their outrage.

  Jesse’s eyes narrowed on Michio behind me. “She had an IUD.” The landslide of his voice grew louder with each word. “I saw it on the screen!”

  He wrestled to temper his fury, his features distorting then smoothing as he reined himself in.

  His tone lowered as he glared at Michio. “The child has to be yours.”

  God, it hurt to see him grasping for irrational straws. Even more painful was watching his desperation wet the corners of his eyes.

  Michio shook his head, his tone gentle. “You know she’s not mine, but she will be. I intend to raise her with or without you.”

  His declaration was a calming whisper in my veins, filling me with weightless relief.

  “This can’t be happening.” Jesse’s gaze swung around the bathroom and locked on Roark. “I want proof of his infertility.” His hands fisted at his sides, his feet braced apart, his neck blotching with the rise of blood. “This is not the prophesied child. It’s not!”

  Roark lowered his arms and leaned a shoulder against the wall, his eyes pink and glassy, and his brogue cracking. “How far along?”

  “Four weeks.” I watched with a tight throat as Jesse and Roark slumped beneath the gravity of my response.

  Jesse pressed a fist against his forehead, and his mouth parted, fighting for air. Then he straightened and glanced around again, as if looking for an answer that disproved the one he refused to accept.

  When his gaze returned to me, it was wider, harsher, and unblinking. “This is my fault. I knew better.” His jaw flexed, and his voice thundered through the room. “I fucking knew about the prophecy and did it anyway!”

  I pulled out of Michio’s embrace and took a cautious step forward, my hands up, placating. “There’s no blame here, Jesse.” I touched my stomach. “This was supposed to happen.”

  “No.” His teeth clenched, his lips drawn back as he glared at my hand on my belly. “Not this.” He stabbed a finger in the direction of my womb so forcibly his entire body launched with the thrust of his arm. “Anything but this!”

  He pivoted and gave me his back, his hands curling around his nape, yanking his head down.

  Here was a man who could hold conversations with ghost children, take down hordes of aphids, and fire an arrow into the eye-socket of a human without a hitch in his breath. Yet he struggled to deal with this.

  “Two years.” He turned back to me, his long strides engulfing the space between us. “Two years I stayed away, kept my fucking dick to myself.” He bent at the waist with the force of his shouting, his shoulders curling forward. “Why did I even bother waiting? What the fuck was the point of an ultrasound, huh?”

  I backed up, my heart hammering. “Calm down.”

  He stepped with me, his expression a fuming-red canvas of misery. “I might as well have just fucked you with a goddamned pistol and pulled the trigger”—he shoved his face in mine and pointed his hand at my temple like a gun—“because the outcome is the fucking same!”

  When he stormed across the room, my breath released in a staggering hiccup, my eyes burning, welling with tears. I moved to follow, but Michio hooked an arm around my shoulders and pulled my back against his chest.

  Jesse kicked the bucket of soap and sent it careening into the wall. I flinched, and hot tears raced down my cheeks, trickling over the seam of my lips.

  Near the door, Roark’s expression was a steel plate of armor, hiding his thoughts, his body poised like a sword, ready to tackle Jesse if this went too far.

  Jesse crouched at the far end of the room, a hand on his brow, rocking with labored breaths. He seemed to force down his grief momentarily as he glanced at me. Then his breathing sped up again, his gaze snapping back to the floor as he moaned with wet, angry sounds and gripped his head with both hands.

  More tears rained down my cheeks, and I tasted copper, my vision blurring in red.

  I shoved against Michio’s arm. “I need to go to him.”

  “Evie?” Roark pushed away from the wall and erased the distance between us in three hurried strides.

  His hands cupped my face, tipping it upward, staring at me with horror. “Your eyes…” He looked up at Michio. “What’s happening to her?”

  “If you're asking for a medical answer, I don't have one. I just saw this for the first time today and would need to do some scans.” Michio kissed the top of my head, his free arm locking around my waist. “Though I assume a Catholic priest would have his own theories to explain the enigmatic language of her tears.”

  Roark’s chest hitched, his mind likely trawling for biblical explanations.

  I blinked, swiped at my cheeks, and stared at my bloody fingers, my voice thick. “It’s about as fucked up as th
e spots on my back.”

  Footsteps approached, and Jesse moved in. His hands closed around Roark’s on my face, tilting my head toward him.

  A lone tear wandered over Jesse’s cheekbone and vanished into his whiskers. “Oh, God, Evie.” His trembling fingers moved over my face, wiping at the bloody tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

  He gathered me in his arms, seemingly oblivious of Roark and Michio holding onto me. Eventually, the other arms fell away, leaving Jesse and me in a shaky bubble, our bodies molding together so tightly I couldn’t tell where my heartache ended and his began.

  Tight muscles surrounded me, our swaying movements setting a rhythmic pace with our breaths. I held his stubborn jaw in my hands, my fingers lost in his hair. Would our daughter inherit his auburn highlights? Or the depths of his faceted copper eyes? Or the tiny, off-centered cowlick that whorled at the peak of his hairline? I hoped she had all of his endearing features.

  I hoped she acquired Roark’s passion, too. And Michio’s analytical mind. If she embodied even a fraction of my guardians’ qualities, she would be an influential force of nature.

  Roark and Michio sat shoulder to shoulder against the wall, watching me. Michio’s legs were bent, his chest leaning forward and his arms braced on his knees. Roark’s head rested against the tiles, chin up, and his hand on Michio’s back.

  I’d once thought emotions were a sign of weakness, but my guardians were a powerful display of torment. Eventually, the shadows on their faces would flee, and their slumped shoulders would fortify. Even now, they were absorbing the shock, not cowering beneath it. They plowed over obstacles rather than sidestepping around them, because adversity was the foundation of their strength. I might not have had conviction in a god, but my faith in the men I loved was unwavering.

  Jesse lowered to a squat before me, his hands gliding over my breasts, testing their weight and perhaps checking for tenderness as he studied my face. They felt the same, but I was still so early in my pregnancy.

  He lifted my t-shirt, tucking the hem beneath my boobs, and smoothed his palms over the vertical plane of my stomach.

  “We’re having a baby,” he said, his voice hushed.

  The sound of his wonderment took hold of my mouth, stretching my smile so widely it lifted my whole body. “Yeah. We are.”

  His eyebrows dug together, his fingers sweeping over my hip bones and returning to the valley of my belly. “You’ve survived five prophesied deaths. You’ll survive this one.” He looked up at me, his eyes tapered into steely determination. “We’ll beat this.”

  Fate cannot be changed.

  Aiman’s words didn’t have the same shivery effect on me now that he was dead. The pregnancy was the last of my predicted deaths. No others followed it, because this one couldn’t be evaded. I wouldn’t voice that, though. Not when Jesse was finally starting to see past his grief.

  “Let’s beat the prediction.” I pushed my fingers through his hair. “But can I brush my teeth first?”

  “Yeah.” He pressed his lips to my belly button, adjusted my shirt, and straightened until our eyes were level. “I’m freaking out, Evie, but it’s no excuse for making you cry. God, I’m such a dick.”

  “Fear is a dick, and you, Jesse Beckett, are fearless.”

  “But not dickless?”

  I laughed, and fuck, that felt good.

  He dragged a thumb over my cheek and raised it between us, staring at the smear of blood. “Never seen you cry. It’s like your soul is bleeding.”

  With a gentle finger, I traced the downward bow of his mouth. “If my soul is bleeding, it’s with love and happiness. Don’t you get it? This was never about me. Our daughter is the reason I survived the virus, the reason I fell in love with three unbreakable protectors. She needs you.”

  “And I need you.” He ran his hand through my wet hair, staring intently into my eyes. “I need you so much.”

  I breathed deeply, filling every crevice inside me with need, his and mine.

  Roark’s accent floated over my shoulder. “Are ye familiar with Our Lady of Akita?”

  I turned in Jesse’s arms and shook my head.

  “I am.” Michio leaned back against the wall. “It was a weeping Madonna statue in Japan. I heard about it when I lived there. It cured illness, right?”

  “Yeah.” Roark pulled a toothbrush and paste from his bag, rose to his feet, and strode to the sink. “The statue’s ectoplasmic tears were actually filmed by a television crew and shown during news broadcasts throughout the world. What made it unique was its apparition of the Virgin Mary and the messages she delivered.”

  A shiver coursed through me. “You think it was the real deal then?”

  “It was the only one of its kind to be sanctioned by the Vatican.” He held up the toothbrush and hiked a brow at me.

  Jesse followed me to one of the sinks and perched on the edge of another as I accepted the brush and cleaned my teeth.

  “The apparition delivered messages? What were they?” I asked around the minty bubbles.

  “Warnings of the end times.” Roark swiped a thumb at the corner of my mouth. “The Virgin’s apparition spoke of the terrible punishment that would be placed on all of humanity, stating, ‘The survivors will find themselves so desolate that they will envy the dead.’”

  When the plague hit, I had envied the dead. Now that I wanted to live, I was forced to stare death in the face. Talk about the irony of life.

  I spit, rinsed off the toothbrush, and handed it to Roark.

  He reloaded it with more toothpaste. “Genesis 3:15 says the serpent's head will be crushed by the seed of a woman.”

  My head kicked back. “Are you implying my daughter is that biblical seed?”

  “I’m not finished. The apparition at Our Lady of Akita referenced that verse in one of her messages when she said, ‘Sin came into the world by a woman and it is also by a woman that salvation came to the world.’ In the Church, we called that Co-Redemptrix.”

  The fact that I shared the name of the woman with sin sent a prickle down my back, but that didn’t mean I was the woman with salvation. “I don’t have any designs on redeeming mankind, Roark.”

  “Ye weep blood and cured humanity.”

  “So? I’m not a statue or a Virgin apparition.”

  “No, but someday, your image will be carved in wood, sewn onto cloth, and cast in metal.” His tone was both sad and reverent. “Your face will become an object of worship and adoration. You’ll be the iconic memorial of the healing of women, and the mother of the new world’s messiah.”

  I bristled to refute every damned thing he said. “Suggesting that anyone would carve my face into anything is awfully optimistic, considering the programmed minds taking over the human race.”

  Roark glanced at Jesse beside me then looked away and popped the toothbrush in his mouth.

  “He’s right, Evie.” Michio joined my side and tucked my hair behind my ear. “I don’t think any of us are ready to discuss the credibility of the prophecy and the child’s role in the future. But no matter what happens, you will be remembered.”

  Ugh. “I don’t want that.”

  “Humble and fierce,” Jesse said quietly against his fist where it rested on his mouth.

  “I’m being serious,” I grumbled. “This is a pointless conversation.”

  Michio regarded me with a thoughtful gaze. “You don’t see what everyone else sees, Evie. You have a subtle luminousness surrounding you. It’s not just one thing, but the whole of everything inside you. It’s like a tactile glow that shimmers from you and inspires others to be better. You can lift a man from his lowest point without even trying.”

  “You’re biased.” I rubbed my arm, my eyes pricking. “That’s your love talking.”

  Roark cleaned off the toothbrush and passed it to Jesse. Then he turned to me and pressed a kiss to my lips.

  “You’re doing what ye feared ye couldn’t do.” He stroked a hand over my belly, his r’s rol
ling from the front of his mouth. “That alone inspires us to stand tall in the overwhelmingly large and momentous future. Do ye understand?”

  I nodded as his words settled around my heart. They admired me for bringing a child into this brutal world, knowing how much the idea had terrified me. It still scared me. The Oh-Jesus-what-the-fuck-am-I-doing? kind of terror. But I wasn’t doing it alone.

  Roark dipped his head and kissed my lips. Sweetly, tenderly, his mouth caressed mine. The sound of Jesse brushing his teeth faded as I sought Roark’s minty tongue, melded against his lips, and fell into his kiss.

  He tasted every inch of my mouth, and I opened for him, breathing him in, licking him with devotion and yearning. His oaky scent was my elixir, embedding itself in my skin and bringing my arousal to life.

  His hardening length began to rise against my belly, and I whimpered. His fingers curled around my lower back, dipping beneath the waistband of my shorts and teasing the top of my butt crack. I shuddered as a wave of need clenched between my legs. I wanted his hot mouth there. And his cock. Fuck, I’d missed him so much.

  When we came up for air, Michio was rinsing our communal toothbrush, his eyes watching us intensely in the mirror. He’d seen me kiss Roark countless times, but this time was different. He knew my intimacy with Roark had moved far past foreplay.

  Jesse waited by the door with our bags. A moment later, Roark and Michio joined him.

  Flushed and hungry, I met three pairs of eyes. I needed food. Wanted sex. I stood there, not speaking, just staring, unsure how to breach the topic Michio might not be ready for. He’d never shared me with another man, and we still hadn’t discussed what happened with Elaine.

  With a tug at the hem of my shorts, I licked my lips. “I asked Shea to set up a room for us. With one bed.” I waited for a reaction and was met with steady stares. “The four of us sharing a bed.”

  Jesse and Roark glanced at Michio, who stared at me with an unreadable expression. Was his temper burning behind that hardened mask? Was he dreading sharing me with two other men? Or was he nursing the aches he couldn’t outrun? My caged captivity? Elaine’s violation? His venom in my blood and its repercussions on me and the baby?