Conception

by Sarah McCarty

  His “Tell me about your panic” was calm, almost disinterested, but she wasn’t fooled. She had his full attention.

  “We were going to the kitchen to get something to eat. I heard men talking, and I started to get uneasy. I tried to ignore it, but I couldn’t. I had to get out of there before he saw me.”

  “Before who saw you?”

  She paused. “I don’t know.” She hadn’t realized it until that moment, but she didn’t know who she didn’t want to see her. Nor why it was so important that she leave. “And before you ask, I also don’t know why.”

  “But you had to run away?”

  She bit her lip and relived the emotions, sorting through the impulses to the message beneath. “Not away. To you. I had to get to you.”

  “And this is why you accused me?”

  “It seemed logical.”

  He squeezed her fingers, his eyes glittering through his lashes. “Later you can make amends for the insult.”

  “In your dreams.” She was not Chosen and she’d be damned if she’d behave as if she was. Especially when it came to that.

  He brought her hand to his lips, the confidence of his smile flicking her on the raw. “You will.”

  She yanked her hand free, resenting the tingle that sprang up in the wake of his touch. “Don’t hold your breath.”

  “I will not.” Deuce tugged and she fell against him. His arm curled against her back, tucking her into his side. “But I will enjoy it all the same.”

  Logic said to pull away. Emotion said to slap him. Desire had her pussy clenching in anticipation and her body softening against his. She was truly a sick individual to get turned on by his utter assurance that she’d submit to him. Even sicker that she didn’t care.

  Her cheek fit naturally into the hollow of his shoulder. So naturally, she left it there.

  His warmth surrounded her along with his satisfaction. She watched as he stroked Jalina’s back with the tip of his finger. He was so in tune to the little girl that the slightest tensing of her muscles had him adjusting his touch until with a little sigh, Jalina closed her eyes.

  “She sleeps.”

  “You really don’t mind Jalina and I landing on your doorstep, do you?”

  He turned his head. In the dark room, his eyes were little more than vague glitters of light. “From the time he is born, a Chosen male prepares for the day he finds his mate and prays for the blessing of a family.”

  “I mean…you don’t mind that you got me?”

  “I am content with what the maker has given me.”

  He was content? “You waited six-hundred-fifty years just to be content?”

  “Yes.”

  She sat up. “I’ve only waited twenty-five, but I know I want a hell of a lot more than that.”

  “You are angry.”

  Yes, she was. She turned on the light. “Of course not.”

  His hand trailed down her spine, raising goose bumps. “You are not happy that your mate is content?”

  “Contentment wasn’t the emotion I thought to inspire in my significant other.”

  He shifted his hips back, being careful not to disturb the baby. “You think I am displeased?”

  His level of enthusiasm was underwhelming. A knock on the door saved her from having to answer. She stood up. “That will be Harley.”

  “It is.”

  She paused at the side of the bed. “How do you know?”

  “I recognize his step and scent.”

  “You can smell him from here?” She looked at the door and tried a sniff. Nothing.

  “Yes.”

  She surreptitiously checked her underarms. Nothing seemed untoward but that didn’t mean it wasn’t to him. His laugh snagged her blush and brought it to her cheeks. The swat he delivered to her butt sent her forward a step. “You worry needlessly. Let Harley in. Our daughter is hungry.”

  She shot him a glare and rubbed her stinging buttock. “Aren’t you supposed to be unconscious?”

  “Later, I will have no choice. Now, I would talk to Harley.”

  And later her. He didn’t say it but she felt it in the intensity of his gaze as she crossed the room. No doubt as soon as Harley left, he would be grilling her. She glanced over her shoulder before she opened the door. Deuce lay there propped on the pillows, the sheet barely covering his hips, their daughter snoozing on his chest. A big, powerful man who could be incredibly gentle. And she made him fucking content. She opened the door with a quick jerk.

  Harley stood there, a tray in his hands, but no smile on his mouth. “Are you feeling better?”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry for earlier.”

  “No explanations necessary.”

  “Deuce disagrees.”

  His gaze sharpened. “He’s awake?”

  She opened the door fully and stepped back. “Yes.”

  He handed her the tray. “Good.”

  Her “Thanks” drifted in his wake. Deuce sat up, propping Jalina on his shoulder. A human male would have ignored the sleeping baby, but Harley acknowledged her first, his touch on her arm a light expression of joy. There was no doubt that the Chosen and Others loved children.

  She couldn’t hear what the men were saying and as soon as she got close enough to excuse herself and reach for Jalina, they shut up, watching her with those patient expressions that irritated the heck out of her as she took the baby and the bottle. “I’ll go down to the living room so you can talk.”

  “You may stay.”

  How nice of him to offer since they were no doubt discussing her. She tucked Jalina into her chest. “It’s all right. I’ll watch some TV while I feed her.”

  Deuce’s gaze narrowed. “I would prefer you stay where I can see you.”

  She hitched Jalina a little higher. “In case you haven’t noticed, there’s been a whole woman’s movement that’s gone on in the last sixty years. The times of a woman jumping to fulfill a man’s preferences are gone.”

  “Chosen women accept the guidance of their mates.”

  “Not me.”

  She couldn’t see Harley’s face, but that sound he made could have been a cough. Or laughter. She cut him a glare and then turned her back on Deuce. “When this whole bad guy thing is over, we are so going to talk about your habit of giving orders.” She dropped into the overstuffed chair by the bathroom door hard enough to bounce. Jalina startled and began to cry, almost drowning out Deuce’s “We will definitely talk”.

  She brushed the little girl’s mouth with the nipple. She latched on, her tiny belly rumbling as the first swallow hit bottom. They certainly would. She was not spending eternity heeling whenever Deuce snapped his fingers.

  Jalina sucked steadily on the bottle, no longer hesitant about eating. She was turning into quite the little piglet. If Eden just lowered her focus to this moment in this room, she could pretend all was right in the world and she was like any new mother, happy with her baby—fearful of meeting her needs, but determined to do so in the most successful manner possible. If it weren’t for the waves of reassurance Deuce was sending her way, she could indulge in a bit of “let’s pretend”, but the fact that he was worried about something to the point that he was reassuring her in advance, made pretending impossible.

  The men’s voices were a low murmur. She could tell from the set of Harley’s shoulders that he wasn’t pleased by what he heard. She could see very little of Deuce’s expression, but whenever she caught a glimpse of his face, it had the controlled calm look that she was coming to understand meant he was containing whatever he felt inside. If she were to extrapolate from the high level of calm in his expression and the reassurance he was sending her, he was very agitated.

  Jalina finished the bottle. Her face screwed up into a ball. A sensation of hunger reached out to her. Eden froze. Not even breathing as she recognized the mental touch of her daughter for the first time. She wanted to respond so badly, but she couldn’t. Couldn’t risk giving the Coalition a path to her daughter. Instead, she leaned
down and kissed Jalina’s cheek. The touch intensified. Confusion and frustration wove into the blend. Eden resisted the call, tears burning because she couldn’t make her daughter understand the rejection.

  A weight settled on her shoulder. Deuce stood beside her, unselfconscious in his nakedness. The door clicked closed behind Harley. She hadn’t heard either of them move.

  “How do you move so quietly?” she asked, not looking higher than his bare chest.

  “Chosen and Others are in harmony with nature.”

  She stroked Jalina’s cheek, ignoring the child’s frustration with her refusal to respond. “And that means you can avoid making wood floors squeak.”

  “When we want to, yes.”

  His fingertips slid over her shoulder and up her neck. “Do you avoid looking at me because you fear my disapproval?”

  She traced Jalina’s pale eyebrows with the pad of her index finger. They were silky soft. As perfect of the rest of her. “No.”

  His fingertips pressed under her chin. “You are right to keep separate from her right now.”

  That did snap her gaze up to his. “You know?”

  “That she calls to you? Yes.” He curved his hand down behind her head. Pure reflex tipped her head back as he applied pressure to the base of her skull. His black eyes were flat and hard. “And I feel the pain that eats at you that you cannot respond.”

  “I don’t want them to find her.”

  “It will not always be this way, my heart.” His thumb brushed her jawline. “Soon, it will be better.”

  “I don’t care about soon. I care about now.” She stood, shoving Jalina into his arms, unable to bear it a minute longer. Jalina’s and Deuce’s surprise hit her like a slap. “Make her confusion go away.”

  Bond with her. The resentful thought was so petty and spiteful, she couldn’t believe she’d had it, but damn it, that was her daughter. Her daughter who called to her. A daughter who’d wanted her mother, and instead she’d get her father. Her big perfect, able-to-communicate-with-her father. The father who loved her more than she thought any father would.

  Deuce touched Jalina’s cheek, his head bent to hers, her profile a softer version of his. The baby’s fussing transformed into an expression of concentration. Eden bit her lip and turned away. This was what she wanted.

  “But not what I wanted.”

  She spun around. Deuce stood right behind her, Jalina cradled to his chest, her cheek resting on his shoulder one tiny thumb stuck in her mouth.

  “You were in my mind.”

  “You were projecting.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “I know.” He took another step, his need to comfort reaching her before he got close enough to touch. “Your pain needs soothing.”

  “There’s nothing to soothe.”

  “You have not failed Jalina, Edie. “

  Yes, she had. She looked at Jalina, the soft one-piece pink sleeper highlighting her rosy cheeks that flexed softly as she sleepily sucked her thumb She was a healthy little girl, one any mother would be proud to claim, but she couldn’t. Couldn’t claim her, and couldn’t touch her in any way the child valued. Jalina was so fragile and innocent, and what the Coalition would do to her so evil that she couldn’t bear the thought. “I failed her the day I conceived her.”

  Deuce shook his head, his long hair falling about Jalina like a protective cloud. “She is a miracle of the Maker’s creation.”

  “They created her in a lab.” It was foul and it was bitter, but it was reality. “And since when did you find religion anyway?”

  Deuce didn’t flinch or back away. Instead, he seemed to cradle the baby closer, as if to shelter her from the harsh words. “I have always had it.” He delivered the statement without reprimand, his quiet assurance scraping her own lack of conviction raw.

  “I’m surprised Chosen and Others believe in anything. Why bother when you have the power to simply change it?”

  “The Chosen are a very old people, bonded to our world.” He rubbed Jalina’s back, his hand spanning the width of her small spine, the power in his hand sheltering rather than threatening. “It is not our way to challenge the design laid out by the Maker, but to embrace it.”

  God, he said that so easily, so acceptingly. She knocked his hand away from her face and stepped back, the helpless rage surging past her restraint. “And you think your Maker wanted me locked up in a room, surgically raped and impregnated?”

  Deuce caught her before Eden could take another step away from him. Her rage and the pain it covered clawed at his calm, gouging deep furrows into his soul. They should never have been able to take her. Should never have been able to lay one finger on her for a second, let alone for a year.

  “I failed you, not the Maker,” he told her as he pulled her into his side, taking the cutting lash of her pain as his due. “But it will not happen again.”

  Her nails dug into his chest and back. “Let me go.”

  “Never.”

  Blood flowed as she dug in. Her nails tore at his skin as the pain tore at her in deep dark waves that pushed her away from him, away from herself. “Let me go.”

  “No.” He dragged her to the crib, letting her go for the split second it took to put Jalina in the bed, which was a mistake. From one heartbeat to the next, Eden was at the door. He leapt to cut her off, the shock on her face telling him she hadn’t seen him move, her human senses too slow to register the maneuver. Before she could bolt, he had her, chaining her wrists in his hands, pulling them up his body to his shoulders, linking them there, ignoring her efforts to push him away, keeping her pinned against him as he slid his hands down her back. He hooked his hands under her buttocks and lifted her up. She grabbed his shoulders reflexively. He bent his head to the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent and her pain. “I am sorry.”

  Three little words that were so inconsequential, so inadequate against all he could sense whirling inside her. He deserved her anger, her scorn. He had failed her when she had needed him most. But she didn’t hit him or scream. Instead, her hands crept around his neck, her fingers threading through his hair. Dampness touched his cheeks. She was crying.

  He wrapped her legs around his waist and headed for the bed, pushing back the day weariness that called him. “Do not cry.”

  He tried to lay her on the bed, but she clung to him, demanding the one thing that was always hers. His strength.

  “I waited for you,” she whispered into the curve of his neck like it was some dark secret too shameful to be spoken aloud.

  “I know.”

  “I cried for you.” Her nails gouged crescents into the nape of his neck.

  He opened his fingers over her spine in a vain attempt to siphon off all the memories and the pain they brought. “I know.”

  “I needed you so badly.” She pulled herself harder into the shelter of his arms.

  “I know.”

  Her hands yanked on his hair as he cradled her in his arms and sat back on the bed.

  “I don’t want to need you like that again.” Her tears soaked his skin in a burning flow of truth. “I can’t.”

  He tipped her face up, looking straight into her red-rimmed eyes. “You must.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  She didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just stared at him, her big blue eyes awash with tears. Her too thin cheeks were blotchy and her full mouth trembled as she shook her head. Her “Don’t ask that of me” was a broken hiccup of sound.

  He wiped a tear from her cheek. It shimmered on his finger like an accusation. “I am not asking. I am demanding.”

  He felt the impact of his words in the flinch of her mind, her body. She was afraid, not knowing what to believe, where to place her faith. Such indecision could be deadly. “You must choose to believe in something.”

  Her lips flattened to a determined line. “Maybe I’ll choose your Maker.”

  He touched the corner of her mouth. “You do not believe in him.”

  “I don�
��t believe in you either.”

  He closed his eyes and absorbed the pain of her words before shoving it aside, opening his eyes, and bringing forth the truth. “You do or you would not have brought my daughter here.”

  Her cheek pushed against his finger as she grimaced. “I was desperate.”

  He shook his head at her attempt to distract him. “You are a logical person, Edie. You think and you plan. Desperate or not, you would not have brought our daughter here if you did not think I could keep her safe.” She sucked in her breath and tried to pull away. He did not allow it. “The time for hiding is over, mate.”

  She shook her head, still holding that breath and his gaze, as if to release it was to take a step there was no coming back from. And he guessed in a way, there wasn’t. “Breathe, Eden.”

  She did, letting her breath out on a hard push that told him she was fighting for control. He released her chin and pulled her face into his neck, wishing he could soothe her fear as easily as he could soothe the rush of adrenaline that flooded her system. But she had to take this step alone. He brushed his lips over the top of her head as she pressed her forehead into his collarbone. “I will not fail you again.”

  “I know that in my mind.”

  He could hear the “but” as loudly as if she had spoken. “You need to accept it in your heart, for our daughter’s safety as well as your own.”

  He rubbed her back, keeping her against him when she would have pulled back. It was selfish, but he did not want to see the doubt in her eyes as she fought with herself.

  “I know that, too.” She patted his chest. He had the strangest notion that she was comforting him. “I just need time.”

  “You are out of time.”

  “I know.” She shrugged, the delicate muscles in her back flexing under his palm. “It’s just that knowing is not helping.”

  “Maybe the loving will.” She went absolutely still against him, even her breathing suspended. “You loved me a year ago, Eden.”

  “A lot has happened in a year.”

  “But you still love me.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know what I feel.”