by Kyle, Celia
Rafe blinked. Or a son. And that came with its own challenges. Into his mind came images of a little boy with his fierce eyes and his mother’s powers darting through the Santos mansion, impossibly fast and charmingly defiant.
“Once he’s old enough, I’ll return to work and put him in the on-site daycare,” she continued, popping the last bite of sandwich into her pretty mouth. “Balancing work and a baby won’t be easy, but women do it every day.”
Rafe frowned as rational thought caught up to euphoria and smothered it. The more he thought, the more his frown turned into a scowl. His fingers tightened around her ankle, imagining all of the terrible things that could happen to a vulnerable infant and its mother.
“No,” he said simply.
“Hmm? No, what?”
“I’m afraid I must forbid it. You must not put our child in such peril.”
She gave him a puzzled look. “What are you talking about, Rafe?”
“Your job. Sentinel is an important and noble career, but it comes with too many risks. Anyone who sits in judgment over others gathers enemies, and you must put the safety of our child first.”
Iris looked at him wide-eyed for a moment, then burst out laughing.
“This isn’t a joke, Iris.” He wasn’t a man others mocked. He was Rafe Santos, Master of his clan.
“Oh shit, you’re not joking, are you?” she said as her laughter grew louder, and tears sprang to her eyes.
He eyed her sourly for a moment, then smiled. She had the spine to laugh in the face of a Master vampire. What an amazing mother she would be to his little girl.
Or boy.
Rather than press the issue and risk an argument, Rafe held his tongue. There would be plenty of time to bring her around to his way of thinking once the baby was born. For now, he’d bask in the warmth of her laughter, even if it was at his expense.
Chapter Five
As appreciative as Iris was that Rafe had made food for her, the “sandwich” he’d given her consisted of a single slice of bread folded over a single, very thin slice of smoked turkey deli meat. And despite the fact she’d asked for extra mayo, a half-cup seemed over the top, even to her. The sad excuse for a sandwich only whetted her appetite instead of sating her. So, once she’d controlled her laughter over the MIA baby daddy trying to tell her how to raise her kid, she pulled her foot from his hand and maneuvered herself into a sitting position.
“Are you feeling well?” Worry creased his brow.
Funny that a guy who’d ghosted her months before would suddenly pay attention to her every move. He was even more attentive than Brodie, which was saying something, but too much of a good thing was still… too much.
“I’m fine, Rafe. The Bladder Squasher’s still hungry though, so I’m going to make a proper dinner.”
“Was the sandwich not to your liking?”
Good Goddess, she’d never seen a Master vampire appear to be insecure about anything. But she supposed making real food would do it, especially after centuries of consuming nothing but blood.
“It was great,” she fibbed. “Some days my appetite’s just a black hole that can never be filled.”
“Then I will prepare the meal for you.” He stood with the speed and grace of his kind, beating her to the kitchen before she could so much as stand, much less waddle after him.
Yes, she knew she waddled, she just didn’t like to hear about it from others. When she finally caught up with him, he was bent over, staring intently into the fridge.
“As if you know what the hell you’re even looking at,” she said with a chuckle and an amused shake of her head.
He straightened and looked down his strong nose at her. “I’ll remind you I’m the Master of Clan Santos. I think I can handle—” He gulped as if nauseated. “—cooking.”
She bowed as low as her belly would allow, pulling a deferential face. “Am I permitted to assist, O Great and Mighty Master of Santos?”
“I’ll allow it,” he sniffed, a sparkle of mirth in his eyes. “But you’ll sit over there and rest while I do the work. Understood?”
He brought her tablet over to the table and together they searched through recipes that sounded good to her. There was a lightness to their connection that had been missing during their brief time together seven months ago. All she really remembered from their one night was incredible tension colored by a driving desire that left little room for small talk. But in this moment, as she tried to decide between the mac and cheese she really wanted and the chicken and quinoa she suspected he could manage to cook with some degree of success, she realized Rafe was trying to put her at ease. Maybe even create a new normal for them.
He needed surprisingly little instruction, after she pointed out the ingredients he’d need, then he set about his task, constantly referring to the tablet. When he got stuck, she’d advise him, but for the most part, he managed on his own, moving around the small kitchen as if he owned it. Damn, not too many things were as sexy as a man cooking for a lady.
Get a grip, she scolded herself. He left you high and dry, remember? Get a freaking grip!
She’d sworn to herself she would never reveal their connection. He might be her Resonate, but that wouldn’t mean anything to him. He wasn’t a warlock. And she’d be damned if she begged any man to be with her.
“So,” she started, unsure how to ask the questions that had plagued her for so long. Then again, what did she have to lose? “Where the hell have you been all this time?”
Rafe paused as he sautéed the chicken with some chopped veggies, then resumed his work. “Spain.”
“At the clan’s estate?” It was part of the job description of any Sentinel to know all the major details about every clan or family’s history.
“Yes. It’s on the coast. I think you’d enjoy it. I’ve heard the local paella is the best in the world.”
Her stomach rumbled at the mention of the delicious Spanish rice dish. Rafe laughed and told her about the annual paella competition in town, then moved on to recount the various antics his clan members got up to while he was there, relations with the colorful personalities of the local humans, and the tedium of everyday clan matters. Masters didn’t usually divulge such private clan business with outsiders, so maybe he didn’t despise her as much as she’d thought.
Delicious smells filled the kitchen, and when he set a plate of steaming chicken and veggies with quinoa on the side, her stomach roared to life. It wasn’t mac and cheese—or paella, for that matter—but it was better than an anemic sandwich. At her first bite, her eyes widened.
“Wow, this isn’t too bad.”
“Why would it be bad? Any fool can follow instructions.” Rafe frowned. “You must eat your vegetables,” he instructed as she shoveled the chicken down her throat. He picked up a floret of broccoli and held it to her lips. “Here, open up.”
She pulled back and shoved his hand away. “Are you kidd—”
He pressed the broccoli to her lips again, so she snatched it out of his hand and gave him a warning look. Feeding a lover during a romantic dinner was one thing, feeding a grown-ass woman like she was a fussy toddler was another completely.
He took the hint and held his hands up in surrender. “I apologize. I only want the best for you, Iris.”
She smirked. “Sure. That’s why you bolted after our… night together.”
Long, masculine fingers wrapped around her wrist and stilled her eating hand. She met his steely gaze, and a shiver skimmed across her flesh, raising a million shivery bumps.
“I left for you, Iris.”
She somehow managed to keep the food in her mouth as her jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
“You’re young. I’m… not. Being with me would mean burdening your life in a way you don’t deserve.” She stared at him, tension slowly crawling up her spine as he continued. “My enemies would become yours, as would my allies. My people would look to you to curry favor on their behalf. You’d struggle to maintain the neutrality require
d of a Sentinel. And I’m not a man who shares what belongs to him. If you were mine, there could be no other for you.”
Iris laid her fork down gently on the plate, biding time to process what he’d just told her. “It sounds like you had a long conversation about our relationship with yourself and I wasn’t invited. It sounds like you made a decision for both of us based on that one-sided conversation.”
“I am Rafe Santos, Master of Clan Santos. My duty is to make decisions for those under my care.”
Iris choked on her final vegetable, making it impossible to tell him exactly what she thought of that statement. He took the opportunity to continue his explanation of what went down between them.
“I’ve sown my seeds, mi amada. You haven’t. I felt you deserved to live a long life, full of adventure. That’s why I left so abruptly. So you could have a fulfilling life before tying yourself to me for all eternity.”
The word “eternity” stopped her heart for just a moment, but at the same time, it warmed her very soul. All this time, she’d thought he’d just used her for a fling, that he hadn’t felt anything toward her, except maybe some vampiric possessiveness, as evidenced by the guards he’d assigned her. For the first time since she awoke to find the other side of her bed cold and empty, she wondered if he’d felt the same connection she had. It wasn’t called Resonate with vampires. They called their fated mates Beloveds, but Rafe had yet to use the word.
“So why are you back now?” she finally asked, the question she couldn’t stop thinking about since setting eyes on him again.
His gaze dropped to her stomach, then searched her face. “Iris, I didn’t know. About the baby, that is. Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my very long life, and when I did, I instructed Tomás to watch over you but to never speak of you to me.”
Iris winced. “Wow, harsh.”
He took her hand in both of his until she met his gaze again. Only then did he continue. “You misunderstand. If Tomás had spoken of you, I wouldn’t have been able to stay away. You never strayed from my thoughts, not even for a moment. The last seven months have felt longer than my entire lifespan, mi amada.”
“So, you heard I was knocked up and you came back to make an honest woman of me?” She pulled her hand from his, but much to her frustration, she didn’t have the spryness to jump up and stomp away. She had to sit there, staring into those boundless eyes.
His lips thinned, finally hinting at the emotions simmering just under his stony surface. “If I had known you carried my child, I would have returned immediately.”
“So?” she demanded, her heart racing in her chest at what he might—or rather might not—say. “If you didn’t know about the baby, why’d you come back?”
Rafe reached out and traced one of her eyebrows, his eyes following its path all the way down her cheek and along the line of her jaw. “You, mi amada. It’s always been you and always will be. You have my undying devotion.”
For months, she’d thought she’d lost her Resonate forever. She knew many witches who never found their other half, their fated mate. She’d struggled through the shock and sorrow of his abrupt departure and those harrowing days when she’d learned she was pregnant as joy mingled with sadness, nearly breaking her. And now he was back, saying such pretty things she couldn’t trust.
“Iris.”
Blinking, she focused on him, realizing this was the second time he’d said her name. For a brief moment she’d sunk into that emotional maelstrom she’d kept so carefully concealed for so long.
“What?”
“You need to know I won’t leave again. I thought I was doing the right thing by you, but my place is here at your side. Forever, if you’ll allow it.”
What would she allow? She’d thought long and hard about it in those dark moments when sleep failed her. She’d expected Rafe would eventually return, wanting to see his kid, but this… She hadn’t expected this.
“Rafe, despite what you might think, I actually want you to be a part of my child’s life. But not part-time. Either you’re all the way in or you’re out. Your choice.”
Rafe leaned forward, heat flashing in his eyes. “I’m in, mi amada, all the way. With our child and with anything else you allow.”
She somehow managed to hold onto her composure, but barely. She was pregnant, not dead. Her body clenched at the desire in his eyes and the sensual quirk of his lips. Desperate for a bit of distance, all too aware of how easily she could succumb to his charms, Iris cleared her throat.
“Well, okay then. Would you like to see the nursery?”
Chapter Six
Iris led him into the office she’d converted to a nursery. It was decorated in a soft dove gray, with accents of sea foam green and a lovely soft salmon. Hurrying to the window, she closed the blinds against the last rays of the sun, then watched as Rafe toured the space.
A dark gray crib sat in the corner, a quilt made by a coven mate draped over the side. Next to it sat a glider, and a dresser and changing table completed the set. Framed prints of watercolor animals decorated the walls and stuffed animals were scattered about, waiting for their new owner. Rafe picked up a fluffy giraffe, fingers caressing the soft purple fur.
“I had nothing like this when I was a child,” he said, voice soft, almost reverent.
Iris chuckled humorlessly, doing everything in her considerable power to keep her emotional walls strong. “Well, to be fair to your parents, I don’t think stuffed animals were all the rage nine hundred years ago.”
He ignored her cheekiness and looked up at her, his eyes glimmering with emotion and his voice hoarse. “Thank you, mi amada, for loving our child.”
So far, Iris’s pregnancy had been relatively uneventful, despite the stress over her situation. During her morning meditations, she always envisioned the baby nestled inside her, feeding from a constant flow of happy, warm emotions. It had taken a lot of hard work to resist indulging in self-pity—negative thoughts, at the very least, wouldn’t be good for her child.
Rafe’s return threw her entire equilibrium out of whack. When she’d first let him in her apartment, she wondered if she was making a mistake. After all, inviting a vampire into her home meant she could never uninvite him. If worse came to worst, moving would probably be the only solution.
But instead of acting like an asshole or treating her as if all of this was her fault, he’d taken care of her. He’d massaged her feet, made her food, and now he actually seemed excited about the prospect of sharing a child with his one-night stand. Any concern she might have had about co-parenting with a vampire Master vanished.
“You’ve created a lovely nursery for our child,” he said, setting the giraffe down before letting his hand brush across the soft quilt. “I have no doubt you’ll do as well decorating the nursery in the Santos mansion. In fact, you can redecorate the entire estate. I want you to be comfortable when you move in.”
The balls on this guy, she thought, which brought to mind the bit of anatomy in question, causing her cheeks to flood with heat. Ignoring the delicious memory of his naked body—or at least trying to—she shook her head.
“Yeah, I think I’ll pass on moving to a strange country, but thanks for the offer. I’m happy here in my little apartment and the baby will be too.”
Rafe scowled at her. “I must insist. My woman and my child belong with me. Besides, you’ll both be vulnerable, and I can protect you in my home. It’s a fortress.”
He seemed so earnest and proud of his ability to protect her, but he was also delusional if he thought he could swoop in like some hero on a white horse. Or a black bat, as the case may be.
“This is your child, Rafe,” she said, rubbing her bump, “but let’s get one thing straight. I’m not your woman. We have no relationship other than a co-parenting one, which I hope will be friendly.”
Pain flashed in his expression. “Your words sting, mi amada, but I deserve it.”
She eyed him warily. He sure didn’t
sound like the words stung. His voice dropped to a dark croon, and he took a step toward her. “I was not here to care for you, but I will rectify that, querida. And I will show you why you should allow me into your heart again.”
What the hell? Who said anything about hearts? She backed up, clearing her throat as she reached for the light switch to flip it off. “Well, this is the baby’s room. Glad you like it.”
The nursery seemed too small, too intimate all of a sudden. He followed her out into the hallway, grabbing her wrist as she tried to flee down the hall in a fast waddle.
“Iris.”
Sighing, she refused to face him. This, evidently, didn’t faze him because he simply pulled her against his taut body, lighting up every circuit in her brain and her body. As his strong arms enveloped her, she wanted nothing more than to burrow into him.
“Tell me the connection between us is dead and I will leave you be.” His lips brushed against her ear, his hot breath sending spirals of need to her core. “Tell me you no longer want me, that there is no hope, and I will be nothing more than a loving father and a supportive friend.”
Her eyes fell closed. She thought about how cold Brodie’s touch had always left her. Granted, nothing even remotely romantic had transpired between them, but even when he kissed the back of her hand, she’d never felt a fraction of the desire for him that she felt for Rafe in this moment. Rafe was her weakness, her only—or at least biggest—lapse in judgment.
“What do you want from me?” she said on a sigh as his breath tickled her neck.
“Everything.” He settled a soft kiss on the side of her neck. She sighed, relaxing into him. “I want the woman I foolishly thought needed space. I want the child we made together. I hunger, Iris. For you, for our family. Allow me to show you.”
Her resolve broke. The injunction to remain neutral, friendly, mature dissolved. Iris turned in his arms, her belly swaying. Rafe looked in her eyes then slowly placed a hand on her stomach, rewarding her with a brilliant smile. His eyes widened when the Bladder Squasher shifted, as if responding to his father’s nearness.
