Witherstone- Wings of My Legion

by Elizabeth Holland

  Wiping the blood from his face, Lucas’ blue eyes were pierced by flecks of gold. Filling with delight, the man studied his arms and hands, turning them over again and again to examine the breadth of the reclaiming. Tightening his fingers deep into his palms, Lucas gave us another reason to be ever aware. The trees overhead crackled as their limbs turned shades of green. Some smaller branches vanished into nothing, and the larger ones retreated into something beautiful, young.

  Up to his feet, Elliot seemed to be guarding me against our newest magical creatures. I tugged at his hand, but he stood firm. And Scarlet and Lucas just kept on laughing.

  LIONESS

  “Would you just sit down,” I scolded Elliot as he anxiously paced across the kitchen. “You’re making me dizzy.”

  Bending over to take a long look at Scarlet and Lucas, both of whom were sitting at my aunt’s table with innocent, child-like glares, my Lord was ever-silent.

  “We have no choice but to trust them,” Julian spoke up from the living room.

  “No choice?” I questioned him. Julian had a sympathetic gaze as he eyed me, but he wasn’t apologetic. Not in the least.

  “Enchanters are dangerous by birth,” he cleared. “These two have never had the chance to grow with their abilities. They’re more a threat than an ally.”

  “I can’t believe you right now,” I shook my head at him.

  “Don’t be naïve, Irene,” he warned as he stared down over me.

  “I want to help,” Scarlet leaned around Elliot as he continued to examine her and her brother. “You know that.”

  “I do,” I nodded. “And so does everyone else.”

  “But it’s weird, right?” Charlotte added to the conversation from the middle of the stairs. She was wrapped in Caleb’s arms, fighting the constant heavy blinks and yawns. “Time? I’ve never even heard of such a thing.”

  “Which is why your mother was cautious,” my aunt said to the twins.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Lucas offered. He got up from his chair and I was certain Elliot would sit him back down. The men stared over one another for a few seconds, but Elliot let Lucas walk out of the room without so much as a warning. “We’ll help make things right,” he faced Scarlet and she agreed. “We can deal with the other stuff afterward.”

  Looking over to Lydia, Lucas had a smile on his face that said just how sorry he was. Lydia, of course, was shrugging it off like it was no big deal. I knew better, though. She was probably hurting that he was no longer a simple human like her. For me, knowing that Elliot could understand me, had experienced things like me, well… it made everything easier to handle. Lucas didn’t have that with Lydia, not anymore. And it was clear how badly it hurt him.

  Elliot was stoic now, not agreeing to Lucas’ words, not opposing them. He crossed his arms and leaned against the bookshelf as Lucas and Scarlet stepped past me and out the front door. I leaned back and watched them as they stepped around the dead willow tree in my front yard before getting into Lucas’ car.

  “They’ll take some time to adjust,” Manon told us. “I’ll watch over them. Nothing one does, cannot be undone.”

  I knew what that meant. As twins, Scarlet and Lucas were indeed balancers. Both of them could harness time. The idea in itself was terrifying, probably even more so than Elliot’s darkness. Immediately following the reclaiming, we learned that Scarlet could move time forward, and Lucas could move it back. Manon had told us not to worry, that their abilities would take time to strengthen. That we didn’t need to worry about Scarlet getting angry and putting us all in an early grave.

  Tristan left the house with Iliana, and Lorcan followed shortly behind. He had to finish preparing to take Samira through the portal and into Isle Lore. My brother was safe with my aunt and Erik watching over him for the night. Not to mention that Manon was staying nearby. And even though I was scared to leave home again, I knew I had to get to Frostmoor soon. The rain had begun, and the pains were creeping over me again.

  “Are you alright?” Elliot asked as he drove. I gave a nod, but I wasn’t alright at all. Something had changed in me, something had made me feel worse, weaker… bigger. My Lord kept glancing over at me the whole way. Coming to the bridge, I was afraid we’d end up in the water.

  “Watch the road,” I demanded, another early contraction creeping up over my belly. I let the air out of my lungs in a sharply strained voice, and Elliot’s eyes got big.

  “I’ll take you back to Cressa, this isn’t right,” he shifted from me to the road to me again.

  “Elliot, seriously, watch the road!” I yelled as the pain subsided.

  “I’m trying to,” his voice raised, breaking from the stress of the moment.

  By the time we exited the bridge, the road was barely visible. Torrential rains, roaring thunder, and the coolness of the night fogging the windows and windshield.

  “I can’t see anything,” he leaned up and wiped the steam from the glass with his sleeve, still on edge, still a bit frantic. Elliot was never frantic. It made me worry that things wouldn’t go as well as we thought—and that wasn’t too great to begin with. A rush visit to Frostmoor just so that the mortal world didn’t have to deal with my daughter’s onslaught of rain and darkness, arriving just in time to deliver. It wasn’t at all what I had imagined.

  I shrugged at the idea of it, then braced myself as another pain came creeping up over my belly, all the way to the base of my breastbone. Something had definitely happened during the reclaiming. I had started the day without any surprises, at least when it came to the baby, and here I was, full and round and ready to give birth.

  The storm overhead was only just starting. Elliot kept reaching up to clear the glass of steam, his body hunched over, trembling cold. His eyes didn’t leave the road now, tightly holding to the dashed white lines that only came clear the second the blades passed. Cars came by, they honked, but Elliot didn’t curse or get angry. He stayed steady, calm. Well, calm when it came to driving, at least. Each time I gasped, each time I grabbed the seat to release the suffering, my Lord seemed a little more fragile.

  “How is this happening?” I strained through the words.

  “When did you get pregnant?”

  “You know what I know.”

  “Yeah, but haven’t you had a sonogram?”

  “Really?” I turned quick and huffed. “When was I supposed to schedule exams and sonograms? When did I have time to go get blood tests and… and,” I clenched my jaw and whimpered through another round of pain.

  We were through most of the city now, and I could see Main Street down a few blocks. The heater was on, but my hands were icy and all the windows were foggy now. I leaned up to reach the dial, to turn up the heat, when an aching pain came up around my back and deep into my pelvis. It gripped me, stilled me as I yelled, biting down as I reached for anything I could to put the agony somewhere else. It just so happened that Elliot had leaned my way to turn down the back alley to the bookstore, and now my hand was clamped onto his arm, making him shriek in sudden pain.

  After I loosened my grip, Elliot, in a direct and inarguable tone, instructed, “Call your aunt.”

  Well, my phone was in my shoulder bag in the backseat. Since everyone I knew and needed had been under one roof—mostly—I put my phone on silent and tucked it away. Hours ago. The day before, actually. And grabbing the bag was impossible. The backseat was in reach, but not the strap of the bag, and not with a belly the size of a small watermelon in my way.

  “When did I get so big?” I complained, rubbing my stomach with both hands open. “What is this?” I cried.

  “It’s alright,” Elliot’s voice was kinder, softer as he reached over to take my hand. I, however, moved up and took hold of his sleeve, tugging and pulling and nearly ripping the fabric of his jacket into pieces. “Just breathe,” he told, taking a long breath of his own as he parked.

  “Don’t tell me what to do!” I raged. I couldn’t believe I was so rude, but by the time I realized my ow
n words, the pain in my stomach had returned. “Get me upstairs, please,” I begged him. Again in tears.

  “Okay,” he agreed. Rushing out into the rain, over to my door, Elliot helped me out of the car as the pain settled into a lulling ache. My back stiffened, and I froze still in that torrent of a storm. “We can’t just stand here,” he pulled at my arm. My body, though, wasn’t listening. Walking just two feet from the car was a chore; the pain deep in my loins was keeping me on the verge of a complete breakdown.

  “I can’t,” I cried to him, again pulling on his sleeve for help. Elliot turned to look at the stairs and then he faced me again. “Do you want to be here? Not anywhere else?”

  I nodded without having to give it any thought.

  Elliot, my knight in shining armor, grabbed me up in his arms with little effort, carrying me up the stairs without a pause or misstep. I clung to his neck as I tried to hide my face from the rain, but it honestly didn’t matter. We were both entirely drenched as the storm gushed overhead. The night had come into full bloom, and the city was barely recognizable.

  It bothered me that my daughter was causing so much attention, so much trouble. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much else to do than just let it happen. Birthing her was going to be quite the event, but parenting her would prove lifechanging. I knew this because of how I was as a child. How I never saw the magic is beyond me, but my mother sure had her hands full.

  Elliot opened the door after setting me on my feet. He ushered me inside and then closed the door in a huff. We were both wet, shivering, and pretty much freaking out.

  My mind was on the baby. How had she gotten so big? Why was she coming now? But the longer I thought about it, the quicker I realized what must have happened.

  “Scarlet,” I gasped as another sharp pain ran through my belly. Elliot came to my side and helped me to the bed, where I promptly refused to sit because of wet clothes.

  “Take them off,” he decided. He tugged off his sweater and then his jeans. “I have some clothes here,” he revealed with a hesitant smile. “Just in case,” he shrugged. I gave a nod, then proceeded to remove my sweater and jeans as well. At the dresser, I found some soft clothes to put on, but the pain came rushing back again.

  “They’re closer,” I grabbed the top of the dresser and held my breath. This one, though, was a tough one. I let out a long moan that became a bit of a scream, crouching over as I begged the gods to make it end.

  Elliot, in his boxers and undershirt, grabbed my arm and pulled me to the bathroom without a word.

  “What?” I tried to stop him, still cringing from the intense pain that wouldn’t stop. My hand on the doorframe, my body buckling, and Elliot, dragging me along like a dog. “Damn it, Elliot,” I grunted. “What the hell?”

  “Look,” his eyes pointed to the flooring near the dresser. “I think your water broke,” he said in a careful, yet worried tone. I faced him, his eyes scanning over my face as his hands continued to guide me to the bathroom. Another pain came along and I was nearly on my knees. Elliot finally let me go, rushing over to the tub and running water and laying towels out. “Come on,” he urged, this time grabbing me up under my arms and pulling me into the room without time for me to protest. “It’ll feel better,” he nodded, but I could see the worry in his eyes. Thunder crackled over the apartment, startling me as I tried to climb into the tub. The water was warm, just the perfect temperature, and for a second, it felt wonderful. But again, the pain came hugging around my belly, and I was leaning on the edge, my arm draped over as I tried to cry it all away.

  “Make it stop,” I begged him as he came and sat on the floor beside me. “Please, make it stop.”

  “Soon,” he wiped back my hair and dried my eyes. “She’s almost here,” he said as the rain on the window beat so hard it sounded like the glass would break. I screamed out again, grabbing my lower belly, waiting for the crippling tightness to end. This time, though, it didn’t. I breathed in waves, rolling to my back as Elliot tied my hair out of the way. He shut the water off and climbed in at my feet, telling me to push.

  “I can’t,” I cried, I whined, but I didn’t have a choice. She was coming, all on her own, with or without my help.

  “Push, Irene!” he demanded, and when I did, a cloud of blood polluted the water and soiled the air. “Push!”

  Elliot, my warrior mate, was no stranger to blood. It didn’t bother me, either. It never had. I clenched my teeth and bore down to push as I watched my Lord steady his gaze and keep his cool. He was scared. I could see it. Subtle things like a slight tremble when I pushed, or the crack of his voice when he said my name. Elliot, though, was every bit a rock, my rock. Taking my hand in his, telling me to breathe, to push once more, the man didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate to do what he needed.

  Sloshing around in that red-tinted water, we delivered our baby together. I gripped onto the tub and screamed out as the last few ripples of pain came over me, helping our daughter be born. Elliot, still so serious and on guard, pulled her from the water and into his arms, where he began to smile and cry. I waited, pulling myself up to the back of the tub, listening for her to make a sound. And sure enough, her little lungs belted out a high-pitched cry as she took in the air of our world for the first time.

  “She’s beautiful,” Elliot smiled from ear to ear as he swaddled our baby in his protective arms. All the guarding he did with me was about to triple for her. It made me happy. The apartment was warm and glowing, and the storm had eased off. I could still hear the pattering sounds of the rain as it fell melodically from the night sky.

  “I don’t have anything for her,” I whispered as he gently slid her into my arms from where I sat on the couch. “No bottles, no diapers.”

  “Well,” he lifted his brow. “I’ll run and grab some things; I won’t be long,” he said in a hurry, grabbing the keys on the counter.

  “Elliot, wait,” I called to him, still trying to whisper as our baby slept soundly. “Let’s have Charlotte come over. She can bring those things.”

  “If that’s what you want,” he stood there patiently as I nodded.

  “I don’t want you to leave,” I told him.

  His sweet, dimpled grin perked up the corners of his mouth as he lowered his head bashfully. Elliot as a father was certainly sexy. He had always been humble and honorable to the core, but now, I don’t know, there was just something else about him. And the best part was that I hadn’t even thought about the darkness and the threat it once posed. Sitting at my side, Elliot peered down over our daughter, and the smile on his face grew.

  “Look at this angel,” he whispered as he took her tiny hand in his fingers.

  “She’s little,” I said, looking her over for the twentieth time—at least. She had soft dark hair like me. It was a little thick and a little wavy. I knew it would lighten in time, mine did as a child, but she’d never be blond like her dad. Unless she dyed her hair. There was always that. Maybe she’d dye it pink one day. Maybe blue. I didn’t care. I thought I might care when she got older, but right then, I was just happy she was in my life. And healthy, even though she was early and quite small. Elliot had gotten on the scale with her just to know, and, aside from ounces, she was a little more than five pounds. She breathed well, no troubles, and she tried to feed, but my body wasn’t producing yet.

  “Do you want anything to eat? To drink?” Elliot asked me as he slid to the edge of the couch. “I’m starving,” he laughed as the baby fussed for just a second. I think we both held our breaths that she might start crying and never stop. Most new parents feel that way, right? That the baby is fragile and breakable, and that she might be hurting and not be able to say so. Or be hungry or cold. These thoughts came to me so quickly, but I just kept pushing them to the back of my mind. Elliot and I had the perfect little girl, and she was fine. And we’d be fine.

  “I’d love something to eat,” I told Elliot. He gladly got up and went to the fridge to find us something. “Could you get my bag from the c
ar? My phone’s in it.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he nodded, setting out some cheese and butter.

  “You really need a phone,” I told him as he opened the door. “I need to be able to talk to you anytime,” I glanced down over the baby and then back up to him.

  “Well,” he closed the door and came over toward me. “I thought I’d stay. I don’t have to stay here,” he looked around the apartment. “But I want to be close, to both of you. And besides, there isn’t a single cell tower in Frostmoor,” he laughed. Again, the baby squirmed, but she didn’t make a sound.

  “I’d like it if you stayed,” I agreed. “I want you to be here. Right here,” I tried to be clear on my intentions. The bewildering had come and gone. I had no ties to Elliot now, no bonds, no blood. Yet, he was still the only man I felt I couldn’t live without. It wasn’t something I could ever have predicted. I wasn’t even sure I wanted him in my life at all just a several months ago. Now, though, we had something strong, and it wasn’t only because of our daughter. In fact, I thought of her as the result of our union, our growing love for each other. I knew what Elliot wanted from me; he never made an effort to hide his intentions. And even though I had fought it, fate is one very powerful beast.

  Elliot came to me and sat back at my side. His eyes were pinned to mine, his hand reaching for mine. With a slow swallow, my Lord had a look of contentment in his gaze. His furrowed, creased brow softened, his shoulders lowered. It was like a massive weight had been lifted.