Honestly, I wasn’t concerned. She might win, but it wouldn’t be tonight, and it wouldn’t happen if I didn’t ultimately want it to. The prospect of having Rika back in play was just too much fun, though, so let her try.
I hated my father for everything he’d done, but even though I hated to admit it, I loved this part. Part of me always wondered why I was drawn to Rika just a little more than other women besides Winter and Banks. I wondered why whatever was between us felt natural and inevitable. How I could’ve hurt her or killed her a thousand times, but something always held me back.
Of course, she was one of my own. Of course, she was. It all made sense last Devil’s Night. Everything seemed to align, and I had no fear.
Like Banks—like Winter and me—Rika was unique. She was built for the wilds, and I wanted her in my family.
Walking back down the hall and heading up in the elevator, I made my way for Winter’s room and lightly closed the door behind me. Her phone sat on the bedside table, an app playing some rain sounds as she slept, and I stepped over, looking in the bassinet at the sleeping baby, who was still swaddled up tight and warm. But now he wore a black beanie with white lettering “New to the Crew.”
I laughed quietly and looked over at Alex passed out on the chair next to his little bed. I didn’t remember that among any of the things Winter bought. I’d have to thank Alex. That was pretty funny. She must’ve woken up and changed it while I was outside.
I cocked my head, looking down at him. I expected him to be crying 24/7, but he was pretty quiet. Maybe he knew he was safe.
Or maybe he was tired, and shit would get real tomorrow.
“How is he?” I heard Winter whisper.
I popped up, looking over and seeing her sit up, her blonde hair in beautiful disarray around her.
“Asleep,” I told her.
I leaned down and held her face, noticing how exhausted she looked. We were both running on little fuel with everything going on these days, and it was time to slow down. I’d wanted to get so much more done before the kid came, but there was no time for that now. She’d need me a lot the next couple of weeks, at least. But eventually, I’d need to hire someone to help with the baby. We knew that was a reality.
For now, though, I’d enjoy it just being the three of us.
I kissed her, and she put her hand on mine. “I need a shower.”
I stood up and took her hands. “I’ll help.”
I guided her out of the bed and carefully across the suite to the bathroom, leaning down to nudge Alex on the way. “Alex?” I said, seeing her jostle. “Keep an ear out for the kid, okay? We’re gonna take a shower.”
She nodded and yawned, and we headed into the bathroom, but I left the door open a crack, just in case.
Winter wasted no time shedding her hospital gown as I started the shower, getting the water warm enough, and she wrapped her arms around my waist, hanging onto me like she was going to fall over.
“You smell like high school,” she mused.
“I had a cigarette,” I admitted, even though I was pretty sure she knew I was still smoking here and there. “I was just feeling too good.”
“I like it.”
I didn’t want it all over my clothes when I held the kid, but the prospect of looking forward to a smoke once in a while made “quitting” easier.
I stripped off my clothes and lifted her into the shower with me, closing the door behind us.
As soon as I put her under the water, I saw the blood start to rinse from her body and turn the floor pink.
My stomach turned a little. I wanted more kids, but I didn’t like putting her body through this at all. I knew she’d be fine once she healed, but it almost seemed unfair that some women did this five or six times. Sometimes more. It looked brutal.
And I didn’t want to see her cry like that again.
We washed our hair and rinsed, and then I soaped up a cloth and washed her body, knowing she must be fucking sore to let me do it without protest.
“What will you do?” she asked as I knelt in front of her and washed her legs. “About Christiane?”
I paused, thinking. With Rika, I had too much pride to give myself away, but with Winter, I was freer.
“Do you think I should let her in?” I asked, not looking at her.
She put her hands on my shoulders to steady herself as I lifted her leg and washed her foot.
“I don’t think we have to be in a hurry to make any decisions now,” she said.
I smiled to myself. I loved how she was. She made me better, because I loved seeing her happy, but she didn’t push me, either.
“Our family comes first,” she added.
“Our family…” I repeated. My family. Mine.
I continued washing her, finishing her legs and cleaning the blood off her thighs.
“Do you ever stand at the edge of a cliff or a balcony,” she asked, “and have this moment where you wonder what it would feel like to jump?”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Kind of thrilled at the idea that you’re one step from death?” She squeezed my shoulders. “One step…” she said. “And everything changes?”
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “It symbolizes a need to engage in self-destructive behavior. It’s not that uncommon.”
While driving, we think, even for just a moment, about jerking the steering wheel into oncoming traffic or leaping off the balcony of a ship and into the abyss of the black water below. They’re passing thoughts and little dares we allow our psyche, because we’re tired of not living and we want the fear. We want to remember why we want to live.
And some of us were more tempted than others at the thrill of how, in the moment, everything could change. Of how it’s not about who we are but what we are, and animals don’t apologize for whatever they need to do to survive.
“There’s a French phrase for it,” she said. “L’appel du vide.”
I looked up at her, her pink lips misty with hot water.
“That’s what binds us,” she told me.
“Who?”
“Our family.”
Our family?
“Kai, Banks, Michael, Rika, Will, Alex…” she went on. “You and me. We all hear it. L’appel du vide. The call of the void.”
I stopped, gazing at her.
“The call of the void,” I murmured.
Was she right? Was that what bound us together? Like recognizes like, after all, and we lived in that need to go a step further and feel everything we were capable of. The fear was terrifying, but coming out the other side redefined our reality.
“I like it,” I told her.
She paused and then said, “I love you.”
A pang hit my heart like it always did when she said that. Like I was falling for her all over again.
I stood up and wrapped my arms around her, smoothing her hair back under the water.
“You’re so beautiful,” I said. “Even though you gave me a son when I explicitly asked for a daughter.”
She broke out in a laugh. “I didn’t give you anything!” she argued. “It’s the chromosome the male contributes that decides the child’s sex. This is all your fault.”
We both smiled, and I nudged her with my nose. I wasn’t sure why I thought the kid was going to be a girl. Maybe I just hoped. I seemed to be better with girls. Banks, Winter, Rika… I was afraid, I guess.
“We’ll just have to keep trying,” I teased.
She nuzzled into my neck, leaving little kisses and making chills break out all over my body.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you.”
My dick started to harden, and I shook my head. “Don’t…” I begged. “You’re going to make these next few weeks torture.”
We couldn’t have sex for I didn’t know how long.
“He’s perfect, you know?” I scaled my hands down her back. “You did an amazing job. I just hope he has more you than me in him.”
She nodded, agreeing, an
d I gave her a swat on the ass.
She laughed. “So what are we naming him, then?” she asked.
“We didn’t decide?”
“Not that I remember.”
I closed my eyes, shaking my head. God, I had no idea. Nothing old, please. And nothing biblical.
Oh, and nothing unisex. Like Peyton, Leighton, or Drayton.
“Any ideas?” she asked.
But I just leaned her back into the wall and held her close. “Tomorrow,” I said.
Right now I was more interested in climbing into bed with her and sleeping for as long as we could.
The name wasn’t important. He had my hair, and tomorrow, maybe I’d get to see if he had her eyes.
If he had mine, then I guess nothing skipped generations, after all, and Christiane was full of it.
Couldn’t wait to find out.
Thank you for reading!
About the Author
Penelope Douglas is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author.
Her books have been translated into fourteen languages and include The Fall Away Series, The Devil’s Night Series, and the standalones, Misconduct, Punk 57, and Birthday Girl. Please look for Nightfall (Devil’s Night #4), coming soon.
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Conclave (Devil's Night 3.5) Page 9
