by Kit Tunstall
He didn’t like the weak, thready tone of her words, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. The whole situation left him helpless, and raging against that feeling would do nothing to fix it. “I regret plenty. I’m sorry you were shot. We thought it was safe.” Tim had gone out for recon before they’d ever left the apartment, returning with the news that everything appeared clear. He’d been gone for fifteen minutes, so he must have conducted a thorough sweep of the neighborhood, yet he had somehow overlooked the sniper. It made Lucas’s stomach churn with nausea, and guilt settled heavily on him.
“I want to hold her,” she said in a slurred voice.
Lucas looked up at the paramedic, asking, “Are you done with the baby so she can hold her?”
“I should get her Apgar scores.”
He frowned with impatience. “Angel’s mother is dying, and it’s her only chance to hold the baby. Can’t that wait?”
After a brief hesitation, the paramedic nodded and lifted Angel from her mother’s stomach and stretched to place the baby into her arms. “Help her hold the baby so she doesn’t drop her.”
Lucas nodded and leaned forward, placing an arm around and under Astoria’s to support the small bundle in her arms. He didn’t know what color eyes Angel had, but she had dark hair, indicating she’d inherited that from her father, Deacon Hunt. He grimaced at the idea of the poor little girl having anything from that criminal, but it certainly wasn’t Angel’s fault.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Her words were barely audible.
He nodded. “She’s very beautiful.”
“Promise me.”
This time, he didn’t have to hesitate, and when he uttered the words, he meant them. “I promise I’ll raise Angel just like my own daughter. I’ll make sure she knows all about her brave mother, and I won’t let her forget you.”
Astoria looked stricken for a moment. “She’ll never even remember me.”
His heart stuttered in his chest, and he had to swallow to clear the lump of moisture from his throat before he could speak. “She will. I’ll make sure she remembers you, or at least knows so much about you that she’ll be unable to tell the difference between a real memory and everything she’s heard about her mother.”
That seemed to satisfy her, and she managed a tiny smile before her eyes closed. A moment later, her arm under his went slack, and the baby started to slip from her grip. He lifted her instinctively, bringing her against his chest. She fit there perfectly, and she was so tiny that he could hold her with one arm, and his large hand completely covered the back of her head. He was larger than average, so perhaps it was simply that, but she seemed tiny, delicate, and fragile. Looking down at her, a surge of love swept over him, and he knew he’d have no problem keeping his promise to Astoria to raise her daughter. She already felt like his.
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About Kit Fawkes
Kit Fawkes is the pen name Kit Tunstall uses when writing steamy paranormal (especially shifter) romances. It’s simply a way to separate the myriad types of stories she writes so readers know what to expect with each “author.”
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Author Bio
Kit Tunstall lives in Idaho with her husband and two sons. She enjoys writing several genres and subgenres, but almost everything she writes has a strong romantic element. A fan of post-apocalyptic, zombie, and dystopian books, she prefers to read or view such stories from the comfort of her living room and never, ever in person.
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