What Doesn't Kill You

by Cate Dean

  Claire had no argument for that. Since she could actually picture Annie doing it, she let Eric take her back into the delivery room. The demon had been quiet since she went over the cliff with James, but she knew it was there, behind her soul. That her friends still trusted her was more than she deserved. She was determined to be worthy of that trust.

  She walked into organized chaos.

  “Claire!” Annie lay on the bed, her knees already drawn up and her doctor, the unflappable Karen Meecham, sitting on a wheeled stool at the end of the bed. Annie lay on the bed, clutching the thin sheet, her curls so wet they were plastered to her head. Claire moved forward, took the hand stretched out toward her. “I don’t want to do this—I’m not ready—what if I’m a horrible mother—oh, shit—”

  She cursed in between gasping breaths as she rode out another contraction. Sitting at her feet, Dr. Meecham rubbed her bare leg. “You’re doing just fine, Annie. We’re almost there. Talk to her, Claire. It will help take her mind off the pain.”

  Claire leaned over, fingered sweat soaked hair off Annie’s cheek. “You and Eric are going to be the best parents. Look what you did with Zach; if you can wrangle a teenager, this will be a breeze.”

  “But what about—you know.” She mouthed the word “magic” and tightened her already bone-cracking grip on Claire’s hand. “We never—damn—”

  Eric sat on the other side of the bed, holding Annie’s shoulders as she curled over her stomach. “Focus on your breathing, sweetheart.” He positioned himself behind her on the bed, so she rested against his chest when the contraction let her go.

  Annie dropped her head to his shoulder. “I hate you.”

  With a smile, he kissed her cheek. “I know, blondie.”

  Dr. Meecham stood, getting their attention. “It’s time, Annie.”

  “Oh, God—I can’t do anymore—”

  “Yes, you can.” Dr. Meecham took her hand, focused on her. “You are one of the strongest women I have ever met. And that is saying something, since I’ve been delivering babies for over twenty years.” Her voice brisk, she let go of Annie’s hand and moved back to the stool. “Now, let’s bring this baby into the world.”

  Claire eased herself from Annie’s loosened grip and backed away. She didn’t want to take the chance. God above, she should leave now before—

  “Push, Annie.”

  “I can’t—”

  “You’re almost there.” Dr. Meecham sat between her legs. “I can see the head. One more push. I know you can do it.”

  Annie let out a scream that raised the hairs on Claire’s arms and bore down. Stunned, Claire watched the baby slip into Dr. Meecham’s waiting hands. Annie collapsed, sobbing for breath. Before Claire could panic about the baby making no sound it let out a healthy cry.

  “It’s a girl.” Dr. Meecham stood. “Pull her gown away for me, Eric. I like the first meeting to be skin to skin.” Eric eased Annie’s sweat soaked gown off her chest, and Dr. Meecham stepped in, handing over their brand new daughter. “Hello, Mom—meet your future.”

  Claire grinned, tears blurring her eyes. She wiped at them, in time to see both Annie and Eric bent over their baby girl.

  “Hi, Elizabeth,” Annie whispered. “She’s gorgeous, Eric. Oh, God, I can’t believe you’re really here.” She kissed Elizabeth’s cheek, smiling through her tears as the baby stared up at her. “Do you think she knows I’m her mom?”

  “Yeah.” Eric’s voice came out a raw whisper. He shoved hair off his forehead, tentatively reached a hand toward his daughter. “She’s so beautiful.” Eric wrapped his arm around Annie’s shoulders. “I love you, Annie.”

  “Love you back.”

  “All right.” Dr. Meecham’s brisk voice broke the spell. “Let’s get Elizabeth cleaned up and weighed, then she’s all yours.” She leaned over the bed and gently gathered the baby into her arms. “No arguments, Annie. It will give you time to change into a clean gown, and be ready for her. Do you have her full name?”

  “Not yet—”

  “Yes, we do.” Annie talked over him. Eric looked at her, waiting. And she smiled as she gave the name to Dr. Meecham. “Elizabeth Katelyn Malone.”

  “Annie.” He gripped her hand. “We talked about naming her after your mom—”

  “Yes. It feels right.” She cradled Eric’s cheek. “I never got to know your sister, Eric. But now our daughter can carry her name, and you will give her the memories to go with it.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and just held on. Swallowing her own tears, Claire decided it was a good time to duck out.

  “And where do you think you’re going?” Annie’s question stopped her at the door.

  “To give the new family some privacy—”

  “Not before you meet her. Now get yourself over here.”

  Claire twisted her fingers together, to keep herself from touching, and moved slowly to the bed. By the time she got there Eric had Annie in a fresh nightgown, and a blanket-wrapped bundle rested in her arms.

  Wide blue eyes studied her, sober and unblinking. Claire swallowed, already in love. “She’s just beautiful, Annie.”

  “And it’s your job to spoil her, like a good aunt should.”

  Stepping out of reach, Claire shook her head. “I can’t—”

  “We’ll talk about it later.” Annie gave her the look that said there would be more than just talk. “Now go get those fools who waited around all this time. I want them to meet my daughter. Then we have a wedding to finish.”

  “Annie—”

  “You’re not leaving until you attach a ball and chain to that Jinn.”

  Eric met her at the door, followed her out. “I want you to know she speaks for both of us. I want you to be part of Elizabeth’s life.” He took her hands. “We’ll work out the details. Just don’t break Annie’s heart by stepping back.”

  Claire nodded, fresh tears stinging her eyes. Eric let her go, slipping back inside the room. Taking in a shaky breath, she gave herself a minute to recover. Then she went to share the good news.

  FOURTEEN

  After some fast talking, and an invitation to every staff member who cared to accept, the wedding party gathered in the small hospital chapel, attendees spilling out into the hall.

  Annie sat in a wheelchair to Claire’s left, holding a wide-eyed and sober Elizabeth. Eric and Zach stood up with Marcus, Zach rumpled and pale. Claire knew the last hours had caught up with him, that his side was aching. He refused to miss any of it, no matter how much he hurt.

  Cinda smiled at everyone, finally returning to Claire and Marcus.

  “Are we ready to continue?”

  Laughter filled the chapel. Claire took Marcus’ hand, leaned in to whisper. “Last chance to escape.”

  “You are stuck with me, witch. For better or worse.”

  She tightened her grip on his hand. “Thank you.”

  “My motives are purely selfish.”

  “Thank heaven. So are mine.”

  Laughing, he pulled her in and kissed her. “We are in for an interesting life, you and I.”

  Cinda cleared her throat. “I will let you know when we reach that part of the ceremony. Now please step away from the bride.”

  More laughter surrounded them. It was not the wedding Claire planned, but it was exactly the wedding she wanted. Family, friends, people who shared both the good and the hard times with her, now shared the joy.

  She floated through the ceremony, coming out of the haze long enough to grasp Marcus’ hands and say “I do.”

  Then he had her in his arms, kissing her, with the cheers of the people she loved filling her ears, filling her heart.

  *

  Claire and Marcus slipped away, finally checking in at the cliff top bed and breakfast an hour later.

  “Marcus.” Claire leaned against the carved post of the canopy bed, so exhausted she had trouble standing up straight. “I’m afraid our wedding night is going to be a disappointment.”

  Laughing,
he gathered her into his arms, kissing her until her knees turned to rubber. Fortunately, the bed was right behind her. Clever Jinn.

  He lowered her to the overstuffed duvet. It enveloped them; a cloud of silk and crisp cotton linens. Claire felt her exhaustion slide away under his touch, the heat of his skin an addiction she never wanted to shake.

  His hands traced down her waist, along the curve of her hips, sliding over the velvet of her dress.

  “I believe, sweet,” he whispered against her throat, that sand rough voice sending shivers through her. “That you are beginning to recover.”

  “I feel a second wind coming on.”

  He smiled against her throat, kept kissing his way up, pausing at the corner of her mouth. “Have you ever thought of having a baby?”

  “I—what? Where did that come from?”

  He lifted his head. “As Zach would so succinctly state: duh.”

  Claire pushed hair off her face and sat. “I never—even if there had been someone, I didn’t even know if I could.”

  Marcus rolled on to his back. “And now?”

  Sighing, she studied his face. He looked incredibly sexy, long and lean in all black, sprawled across the pristine white duvet. His wild black curls spread around his head, so much a part of him she couldn’t think of him without an image of them, framing his face, brushing his shoulders, the ever present silver hamsa winking at his ear.

  “Now—I don’t even know what I am, and you are Jinn, so—”

  “We would create in intriguing child.”

  Claire smiled at him. “Already have one, thanks.”

  He reached out and pulled her toward him, tucking her in against his side. “And he will be fine.”

  “I know.” She closed her eyes, let his warmth seep into her, the weight of his arm soothing. “He scared me, Marcus. I almost lost him to that maniac. I want to protect him, lock him away, but I know he would hate me for it.”

  Zach was at Annie’s—a compromise they argued about, long and loud. Claire won because he still hurt, and couldn’t hide it from her. She expected to get an earful when he felt better.

  “He will be fine,” Marcus said. “That boy has nerves of steel. I never thought to be impressed by him, but I am. Now,” he tilted her chin until their eyes met. “We celebrate us.”

  “Marcus.” She kissed him, savoring the taste of him, the scent that surrounded her. Musk, sand, exotic spice—uniquely him. “What did I do to deserve you?”

  He didn’t answer, just returned her kiss with a passion that knocked the breath out of her, and rolled across the bed with her until she lay under him.

  “You didn’t need to do anything, sweet.” He laid his forehead against hers, closed his eyes. “You deserve much better than what I have to offer. But I am too selfish to let you go.”

  “Good thing.” He looked at her, jade green eyes dark. “Because you’re stuck with me.”

  “A harsh sentence.” He straddled her, trapping her arms over her head, and started to nibble at her throat. “I may chafe under the weight of it. But I will make the best of such a burden.”

  “Marcus—” She gasped when he reached the sensitive point behind her ear. “We need to—God above—”

  “Yes, sweet?” His voice was muffled against her neck.

  “What?” That slow nibbling was driving every thought out of her mind. “Marcus—God, I can’t think.”

  “That is the goal.”

  “Marcus—I’m trying—”

  His lips cut her off, and she gave in, letting him take her deeper into mindless sensation. By the time they came up for air, he had his shirt off, and the front of her dress was unbuttoned to the waist.

  He brushed his lips over the lace edge of her camisole. Claire let out a gasp, her fingers digging into his bare arms. Muscle rippled in her grip as he lowered himself to her. “First, wedding night.” One hand cupped her breast through the silk camisole, and heat shot through her. “Second, serious conversation.” He kissed his way from her throat to the valley between her breasts. “A distant second.”

  *

  Moonlight lit her way to the balcony. Claire eased the door open, just enough for her to slip through, and closed it behind her. Their suite faced the ocean, and she could hear the waves crashing at the base of the cliff. It soothed her, like it had since she first heard the ocean. She always made a point of living near water, since it calmed the demon like nothing else ever had.

  She heard Marcus behind her, and sighed. The man had the ears of a cat. He slid his arms around her waist, pulled her back against his chest.

  “Beautiful night,” he said. “And serious thoughts. Tell me what you’re thinking, sweet.”

  She closed her hands over his, kept her voice low. Marcus wasn’t going to be happy. “I want you to make a promise.” His hands tensed under hers. “If something happens, and I—”

  “Lose control? Become the beast?” He turned her around, anger snapping in his eyes. “You know better, Claire.”

  “I also know I’m walking uncharted territory. I have a soul, Marcus, but I feel the darkness there as well. I’m not sure how they will get along. Please,” she framed his face. “I need to know that you will do whatever is necessary to keep me from hurting anyone.”

  “I promise,” he laid his hands over hers, his gaze piercing straight to her heart. “I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

  “That isn’t—”

  “It is what you get. I will not make a death pact with you, Claire. I will stand between you and anyone else, should something happen.” He took her hands, pressed them over his heart. “I love you, and I made a vow. For me, that means taking care of each other, whatever the circumstances.”

  Claire swallowed, tears stinging her eyes. “I love you back, you stubborn Jinn.”

  Marcus kissed her, settled her against his chest. “Let’s simply take each day as it comes. I know this much, my sweet witch; it will be interesting.”

  With a sigh she wrapped her arms around his waist, watched the moonlight ripple over the water. Here was what she had searched for, as long as she had been roaming the earth, alone and in exile.

  Here was home.

  FIFTEEN

  Zach collapsed on the bed, every inch sore. Annie’s plan for his recovery was going to kill him.

  With a groan, he pushed himself up, his stomach complaining louder than his body. He knew there were leftovers in the fridge; he just had to get to them. Being in the back wing of the big house had its disadvantages.

  Using the wall, he moved down the hall leading to the kitchen, his right side threatening to spasm again with every step. Marcus told him—out of Mom’s hearing—that he nearly died from the wound. The knife tore apart his strength, trying to break him, to take hold of his power. The battle cost him, and it would take time to bounce back. Zach hated feeling so weak, so vulnerable. And that hate only made him push harder, which left him feeling like he did now. Aching and short of breath.

  He turned around before he got halfway to the kitchen, his legs shaking. By the time he reached the bedroom he had to crawl to get to the bed. With the last of his strength he pushed himself up and landed face first on the mattress.

  “Ouch.”

  “Zach?” Annie’s voice filtered down the hall. He tried to sit, to look normal and unaffected when she got there. He couldn’t get his arms to move. “I brought you some dinner, since I figured you—Zach.” She dropped the plate on the night stand and helped him turn over. “Where?”

  “Everywhere,” he whispered.

  “Oh, honey. Why didn’t you tell me you were hurting so much?” She stacked the pillows, slid him back until they propped him up. “I want you to rebuild your strength, not try to finish yourself off. Your mom would never forgive me.”

  “I just—I don’t want to feel like this.”

  “Vulnerable?” He nodded, staring at the far wall while she took off his shoes. He reached for the sheet, and managed to pull it up. He
didn’t think he could stand having her help him change. His sweats were good enough to sleep in, at least for tonight. “Look at me, Zach.” He did, knowing she’d just wait him out. “You were pretty damn close to dying. It’s going to take time, and it’s going to take patience. But if you give me both, I promise you’ll be much closer to the old you by the time your mom comes back from her honeymoon.”

  “Promise?”

  “Cross my heart and pinkie swear.” She held out her pinkie. Smiling, Zach linked his to it, feeling better already. Her ring sparked, the blue glow spreading over their fingers, warm and soothing. “Now, this is your final assignment for the day. Eat everything on your plate and go to bed. TV is allowed—just turn it off before you pass out.”

  “Ma’am, yes, ma’am.”

  Annie smiled, and leaned in to kiss his forehead. “Good night, soldier.” She handed Zach his dinner, and his mouth dropped open. A twelve ounce porterhouse from Billie’s. He recognized the cut, and the scent of the marinade had him drooling.

  “Thank you, Annie.”

  “You earned it. Just leave the plate on the night stand—and turn the TV off before you crash.” She paused in the doorway, blew him a kiss. He didn’t mind it as much as usual, or the harping about the TV—not after she brought him steak. “Get some rest. That’s an order.”

  “That won’t be a problem.”

  Annie was back to her old self; no more biting comments or awkward temper tantrums. He had missed this Annie, and she looked even happier, Elizabeth riding one shoulder, sound asleep and drooling down Annie’s sleeve.

  The only other reminder that she’d been pregnant was the small pooch on her lower stomach. Zach knew better than to mention that. Again.

  He dug into the steak, while he still had the energy to cut it. Rubbing Elizabeth’s back, Annie smiled and started to close the door. “See you in the morning, Zach.”

  He nodded, too intent on his steak to answer. The first piece hit his tongue, and he groaned, chewing it slowly, savoring. Then he gave in and devoured, his appetite roaring back.