by Fleur Smith
My strength faltered, and my arms gave out for a fraction of a second. It was enough for Clay to take advantage and the blade dropped.
Just in time I renewed my fight, knowing that I had seconds left at most. The blade dragged across the front of my shirt, slicing the material and nicking my skin. Clearly realizing, as I did, that his strike would now lack the force it needed, Clay lifted his arm again.
Another contraction was building, and I knew I wouldn’t have the strength to fight him through the renewed pain. I searched for any other possible weakness I could exploit—more than willing to use any and all of the non-lethal techniques he’d taught me in order to fight him off.
Shifting my body around slightly so that my hips lined up with his legs, I held his arms tightly in my hands, and when he plunged the knife a second time, I gave in to his strength, twisting at the last second to use his forward momentum to trip him over my legs.
The weight behind the knife sent the blade into the ground, embedding it almost an inch into the soft wood. Clay went sprawling over the top of it. Just as the pain of the latest round of contractions hit, I forced myself off the ground and across Clay’s body, pinning his arms to his side with my thighs, before giving the knife a forceful tug to pull it from the floorboards.
Even though it felt wrong on every level, I held the knife steady at Clay’s throat as I rode out another contraction.
He struggled against my hold.
At least until I screamed out in agony. Then, he must have understood how easily the hilt could slip in my hands and the blade could strike his neck, and held still.
“I could easily kill you,” I lied when the worst of the pain had subsided. There was no part of me that could drive the knife into Clay’s body, regardless of the threat he posed to Ava or me. “Couldn’t I?”
“Go ahead and do it then,” he hissed. “You know you want to.”
“No,” I said.
His brows knitted together in confusion.
“I could kill you,” I repeated. “Right now!” I lifted the blade high above my head and dropped it suddenly, forcing all of my weight behind it, burying it almost to the hilt in the floorboards just a few inches beside Clay’s head. “But I never would.”
I rested my hand between the knife and his head and dropped my head onto his chest as another contraction shredded the lower half of my body and the warmth in my veins grew stronger again. It wasn’t like the heat I’d experienced over the years, when the sunbird was awake and sharing my skin. Instead, stolen fire forced its way into my body and raced through my veins without any real connection to me. Almost as if my daughter was giving me the strength I needed to fight off her father, but weakening me in the process.
Does she think that he’s a threat?
When the pain of the latest contraction left, I began to cry. If it was true, then even the sunbird recognized my husband as a risk. My own flesh and blood thought he could kill me.
Would he really kill his own daughter?
There was a time when I’d trusted that she’d be safe with him without me, when I’d been certain a child would be born from my ashes. When I hadn’t even doubted him despite his prejudices.
As the thought rolled through me, another more terrifying one followed. Maybe I hadn’t escaped my fate. Maybe Clay had merely delayed the inevitable and my body was heating as the sunbird was prepared to sacrifice me again.
Fear raced through my veins and stole my ability to move. There were so many things I was afraid of in that moment: the heat, Clay, Ethan’s fate, the fate of the other fae guards, but the one thing I was most fearful of was the unknown person who was behind Clay’s attack. Clay hadn’t come here of his own freewill; I understood that now more than ever. Especially after the words he had spoken. What if I’d subdued Clay only to have to face another attacker?
Tears of fear and pain ran dirty streaks down my cheeks as everything I’d lost, everything I still stood to lose, and the agony of the last two hours all attacked my mind simultaneously. I lifted my head and gazed into eyes that were almost black but rimmed with the brightest of blue. The dark-chocolate depths were hardened with an anger so intense it stole my breath. They were the eyes of the man who would kill me—the same man who’d once sworn to love me above all others and protect me at all costs. My tears fell harder and sobs stole away my breath.
“How could you do this to me, Clay?” I practically screamed at him as every emotion I’d experienced since he disappeared came pouring out. I beat at his chest with what little strength I had left as my sadness and anger merged into a hysterical fit of rage. My tears fell as readily as my fists and both rained steadily down on him. He twisted his head to the side to protect himself from the ferocity of my attack. “Why did you have to leave us? Why? I loved you! I was happy! We were happy! Weren’t we? Why did you have to go and ruin it all?”
When the next contraction hit, I wasn’t ready for it. I bucked backwards to a sitting position and cried out in pain. Clay used my agony against me and fought to free his hands. While he twisted and shook to pull himself loose, I fell to the side—tumbling off his body and onto the floor. I curled around myself to try to hold in the pieces of my shattered body until the pain finally released me from its clutches again.
Once the contraction left me, I was completely done. I lay sobbing on the ground, waiting for my inevitable death. There was no way I could protect myself against any further attack. I was beyond tired. Beyond the ability to fight.
Beyond anything and everything outside of the desperate need I had to push.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SOMEWHERE BESIDE ME, Clay began to mutter to himself. I couldn’t make out many of his words between my sobs, but “Dad,” “wrong,” and “evil” were among them.
I tried to lift my head to witness my impending doom, but I was too exhausted for even that small amount of effort. Another sob tore through me as I dropped my head back to the ground. I wanted to demand that Clay meet my eyes just once more. If I was to die, I wanted to do it remembering the love we’d once shared.
“What have I done?” Clay’s voice was small as he shifted to my side.
“What?” I dropped my head to one side and watched him slide closer to me. Every part of me tensed in anticipation of his attack, which only made my stomach ache more and my blood burn hotter.
I whimpered and rolled onto my back, trying to stretch away some of the ache.
Instead of attacking, Clay grabbed my hand in his. Twisting gently, he gazed at each of the raw, open wounds he’d inflicted with the blade of the knife. In the next moment, his fingertips brushed the hair back off my face, and he met my gaze. “Are you okay?”
“Huh?” My head spun with confusion over his words and everything that had happened, but I couldn’t concentrate on the meaning of any of it as I panted desperately, trying to force my body into submission so that I could keep fighting. Only, I was too exhausted.
It soon became apparent to me exactly what was happening as the urge I had to push once again overtook every other sensation except for the pain. The agony was intense enough to drive me crazy. Forcing my eyes closed, I clawed at the floor as my body bore down against my wishes.
Not now, Ava. Just hang in there a little longer, please?
I opened my eyes and met Clay’s gaze. Printed on his features was a compassion that had been absent just a little earlier; his eyes appraised me with a soft expression.
Based on his actions and the look he was giving me, it was easy to believe that he truly was back on my side—even though I couldn’t understand how or why. I wasn’t entirely sure that I could trust him, or that I should, but I was out of options. I was out of time. A fresh contraction squeezed my stomach so tightly that it was impossible for me to hold in the primal scream that rose to my lips.
“Just breathe,” Clay murmured.
After the contraction abated, I lifted my shoulders to better see him. When he met my eyes again, the look of shock and regr
et on his face made me almost certain something had changed within him.
If only I could trust that this isn’t a trick.
“Clay?” I asked through clenched teeth. “What’s happening?”
“Just relax. You need to try to relax.”
Confusion gripped me, and pain twisted around it as they raced together along my spine and through my body. My hands tightened into fists at my side as a fresh wave of agony washed over me, strengthening my desire to push even more. Once more, my body reacted instinctively to the sensation and bore down to push during the contraction.
“Help me,” I sobbed.
He shifted his position beside me and stroked my hair tenderly. “What do you need?” Clay murmured as his eyes trailed a path over my stomach before he ran his hand lightly over my bump.
A fresh round of tears blurred my vision, but through the fog I could see the renewed tenderness in his gaze again. It could almost have been mistaken for pity. I forced my eyes closed during a temporary pause in my contractions and considered what that look might mean. Was his turnaround genuine?
Perhaps he was pretending to be on my side in an attempt to lull me into a false sense of security before springing another attack. That didn’t make sense to me though; I was already defenseless anyway. There was no way I could continue to fight him off as well as deliver our baby. She was on her way, and there was nothing I could do to slow her progress.
Surely it must be obvious to him that I’m utterly defenseless.
That thought sent the beginnings of hope creeping through my body; maybe it wasn’t trickery that caused that look in his eyes. Regardless, I had little option but to trust him—at least for the moment.
“The baby,” I forced out as my body took over and bore down again. I tilted my head back and a feral grunt tore from my throat. “I think she’s com—” My teeth clenched around the rest of my sentence as another contraction hit me, strengthening the need to keep pushing. The contractions and the urge were coming faster now; I barely had a few seconds grace between each wave.
“Maybe I should get someone.”
I shook my head and breathed as steadily as I could. If his seemingly returned tenderness wasn’t just some trick, there was no way I was going to risk him leaving my side anytime soon, especially not when our baby was going to arrive at any moment. I needed someone to help me. I couldn’t do it alone.
“No. Time.” I panted.
After another few seconds’ debate, Clay stilled his tender stroking of my arm and moved to help me. He paused briefly before removing the clothing that blocked our child’s path and then kneeled between my legs.
“I have no idea what I’m doing,” he admitted as he glanced up to meet my eyes.
“That makes two of us!” I groaned as another contraction raced along my spine and stole my breath.
He rested his hand on my knee, his thumb tracing an imaginary circle on my leg. “I can see the baby,” he murmured.
I forced myself to control my breathing as best I could, just like the healers at the court had shown me how to do.
“You’re doing so well.” Clay’s gentle encouragement was unexpected but welcome.
Sounds that I would have thought were outside the potential range of a human larynx roared from me as I pushed through the next contraction.
Clay’s calming voice guided me through the birth. In the midst of the pain and panting, my amazement grew at his sudden and seemingly complete turnaround
A strangled sound escaped him just as our baby was born. I rested my head back against the kitchen floor and breathed deeply as I spent a moment relishing in the contraction-free—and momentarily pain-free—state.
“How is she?” I asked just before fatigue overwhelmed me completely.
“He’s got my eyes,” Clay whispered reverently as he lifted our baby away from me.
Any lingering doubt about Clay’s renewed allegiance left me with that simple statement. I reached out my hands so that I could hold our baby, but Clay was transfixed as he stared at the tiny bundle in his arms.
Something Clay had said struck me. “Wait . . . he?”
Clay glanced away from our child and stared at me in shock, as if he’d completely forgotten I was there, as if I hadn’t just played a somewhat important part in the delivery of his son. Confusion crossed his features as he glanced down at our child again and then back at me.
“Can I please hold him?” I asked, feeling equal parts relieved that Clay was back with me and annoyed that he was hogging our son.
“Sorry, it’s just . . . He’s a . . . This is just really unexpected,” Clay mumbled as he knelt beside me and laid our son in my arms. “I didn’t think . . . I didn’t think this was possible.”
I nodded vaguely but couldn’t pay too much attention to what he was saying because I was transfixed by the perfect little being that he’d just placed into my arms. It wasn’t the girl I’d been certain I was having, but it didn’t matter. Our son was unexpected, but perfect.
How exactly he was going to carry on the sunbird lineage, I wasn’t sure, but I honestly didn’t care. He appeared healthy and for the moment Clay wasn’t trying to kill us, so I was willing to overlook everything else.
Clay moved carefully around our kitchen, washing his hands before pulling open drawers and returning to my side to tie off and cut the cord before handing me a clean dishtowel to wrap our tiny bundle in. Then he stepped away to wash up again before starting to clean some of the mess left around the kitchen, the result of both fighting and childbirth.
I tried once more to make sense of his dramatic turnaround after my hysterical attack on him, but it just didn’t make sense. Perhaps my tears had more to do with his change than I would have expected they could. Cuddling the baby against my chest, I raised my gaze to assess the now uncertain Clay. He scrubbed the back of his neck as he watched me appraise him, and I smiled at the familiar gesture.
Some things never change. I still wasn’t completely sure whether I could trust him, but the fact that he was standing idly by while I held our child went a long way toward convincing me of his turnaround.
“Thank you,” I said. “For helping me through this.” For not killing me. “I don’t know how I would have done it without you.”
He shrugged. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” I assured him before brushing my fingers over our son’s forehead.
Clay moved around the space again, bringing me a blanket and taking away the wet and blood-soaked clothing. I heard him strain as he struggled to pull the knife free of its floorboard sheath. It was the sound of the knife pulling loose that made the baby goggles slip a little as all of the events of the last few hours flooded back into my mind—the fae that Clay had declared he’d killed when he first attacked me. I had to know what had happened and whether they were safe.
I risked a surreptitious glance in Clay’s direction to ensure he wasn’t going to take advantage of my distraction to attack me or our son. It didn’t make sense that he would, at least not after helping me deliver safely, but the sound of the knife was a reminder to not drop my guard too readily. Especially not after what he’d said he’d done to the guard, and to . . .
Ethan.
I closed my eyes as thought of my brother-in-law and an image of his slumped body flashed into my mind.
Please be okay.
“Clay, what happened to Ethan? What did you do to him?”
He drew in a sharp breath, pressed his lips together, and stared at me with apprehensive eyes.
“Please tell me he’s still alive?” I begged, needing to hear the words.
“I don’t—”
I cut him off with a scream as an unexpected contraction sliced my body in two.
Fuck! I thought I was done.
“Take him,” I hissed, holding out our perfect little man to Clay before I could accidently hurt him or drop him as a result of the pain.
Dropping the knife instantly to the floor, whe
re it settled with a clang, Clay reached for our son and cradled him against his chest. “What is it?” he asked with a concerned voice.
“I don’t know,” I panted through the pain. “It hurts!”
The need to push struck me again with an increased urgency. The pain didn’t make sense; our baby was already safely delivered. I worried that something was going wrong, especially as the heat in my limbs began to increase steadily once more.
Is the sunbird back?
He fell to his knees beside me, still cradling our baby gently in his arms. “What do you need?”
The renewed heat in my limbs burned its way around my body and ignited my blood. It didn’t feel right. In fact, it was downright unnatural. I didn’t understand any of it and I began to panic. I screamed as another wave of pain washed over me and stole my senses. As my scream died down, the sound of the door crashing open split the air.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“GET AWAY FROM her, you monster!” Aiden’s voice called out as he ran from the front door though to where I lay in the kitchen.
He came to a stop when he saw the no doubt gruesome scene before him on the kitchen floor. I could only imagine what the image of Clay kneeling beside me, the knife at his feet, with both of us bloodied and battered would appear to Aiden, especially if he’d encountered the guards outside.
“Put the baby down,” he growled at Clay as soon as he noticed the swaddled bundle.
“It’s okay,” I panted through the pain. “He’s not hurting me or our son.”
“There’s something wrong with her,” Clay uttered with his eyes locked onto me and not on the new threat in the room.
“What’s wrong?” Mackenzie asked as she followed Aiden into the room. I was surprised to see her there considering her fear of leaving the court, but it was the least of my concerns. Her eyes fell immediately onto me. “Oh, she’s crowning.”
“But the baby’s here,” Clay said.
Mackenzie met his gaze. “She’s crowning again then,” she stated plainly.