by Addison Cain
It was not panic, exactly, that lay on her face, but it was a form of alarm.
The greater her belly grew, the harder it was for her to move. The predator in her knew this. It made her cagey and eager to keep to the quiet and safety of her wing. Disturbing her was never a good idea.
There were hundreds of meters between them, yet Sovereign abandoned Tiburon on the balcony above and slid down the palace walls, landing in a hard crouch to be with her. As he straightened, he apologized. “I am sorry for waking you, beloved Sigil. I lost my temper.”
The effect of his presence ran over her. Her eyes grew lidded, her breath soft. “Why? Has Tiburon returned? Have you news of Ard-”
No hesitation lay in Sovereign’s psionic pull to drag her flush with his body. Before she might think on it, before she might yawn, he swept his tongue into Sigil’s mouth. He wanted her drunk on the taste of him, trapped in that mental place where none other existed but the two of them. It was a power he’d had over her from the first.
It was a power she had over him.
He projected intense love, she swallowed it down to fill her abyss—their mutual addiction.
Tripping his fingers down her spine, his anger gone and his spite hidden from her senses, Sovereign looked down at his drowsy woman, at the chimes Karhl had woven into her hair, and smiled. “Tiburon has returned. Arden has integrated himself as a retainer to the Tessan Authority... maintaining political asylum. They will not extradite him. Assassination attempts will be met with ‘equally appropriate aggression’.”
Sigil looked uncertain, alternating between righteous anger and concern. “He thinks to shield himself from me by openly hiding behind a society I know better than this one, because he knows you will not risk the security of the empire facing an opponent greater than floundering humans... not now that I am with child... and vulnerable. Arden has faith that you will keep him safe from me.”
There were subtle ways to calm her beyond only pinching her neck. Sovereign put his hand on their baby, cocooning her with adoration. “Beloved, I would not risk war even if you did not carry our daughter. The empire exists to provide you with security. Arden is not worth endangering that safety. The Tessans only use him to try to surpass our influence. The politics of the situation will run their course, then we strike.”
She wanted to argue, hated Arden with such a passion that her hands trembled.
It had taken many long months before the Imperial Consort would so much as look at Sovereign or Karhl. After the deaths of Maylin and Vara, after Sigil learned the truth of what really happened on Pax, forgiveness for their culpability in Que’s death was not something she thought to ever extend. The fact that they had let Arden live all those years, even if he had been in prison with nothing to do but write, even if he had been censured, disgusted her.
Knowing she had been left in his care day in and day out, burned her.
Both had arguments in defense of their actions. Sigil refused to listen.
Other Brothers were chosen to see to her condition, usually timid Corths, with his sweetness and gentle touch. If it was violence she craved, Admiral Parnisu or Admiral Gethman would come down from their ships and work together to overpower the testy woman.
Sovereign and Karhl were ignored, denied.
The child had a difference of opinion on the subject. Once the baby had developed to a point it possessed an early form of cognizance, it wanted Sovereign’s constant presence. It wanted Karhl. It wanted peace.
Sigil did it for the girl, and in doing so let them near again until both had become so ingrained in her life there was no undoing it. One of them was always with her, holding her, rubbing the small of her back.
She made herself grow comfortable in their presence, breathed slowly, and loved her unborn daughter past any point of collecting madness.
Sovereign had dominion over her now. She belonged to him. “His time will come, precious Sigil. Arden will make a mistake, expose himself to us. You will have him to do with as you will.”
“Do not lie to me.” She pushed him away, a trace of hurt twisted in her complaint. “You would never allow him to stand in my presence. You only say the things you think I want to hear.”
Sovereign took her elbow, directing Sigil towards the door. “Let’s go inside. We can talk. I will tell you anything you want to know.”
She did not believe him, her opinion clear in her mangled expression. “Anything?”
If this was the way to make her love him, yes. “Anything.”
“Let’s start with the passcodes for every ship and byway in the empire.”
Cutting a worried eyes glance towards his stubborn female, Sovereign took a risk that might be the end of them all. He was honest.
***
In the months that slowly altered her body, Sigil found there was something ultimately fulfilling in brimming with life. Sure it was uncomfortable, her back always ached, she was always hungry, but her daughter was real, she was inside her...
Sigil had grown completely consumed by pregnancy.
Sovereign tried to amuse her, telling her of distant planets, their bizarre cultures, and the quality of converts harvested from each.
Sigil’s gaze grew far away... she was no longer paying attention. “What?”
He leisurely ran his hand over their child. “She must be awake. Does our daughter sing today?”
Settling against the father of her baby, Sigil took a deep breath and melted. “She does.”
“What does she say?”
The baby didn’t say things, only felt things, projecting them to the one who nourished her. “It’s almost time.”
The Brothers in the room perked their heads, Karhl daring a smirk.
It was not quite so precious a scene when her contractions began and Sigil writhed as if she’d not lived a life full of pain. Three full days of labor left her spent. None of her suffering mattered when Corths finally lifted a bloody squalling infant from between her spread thighs.
The High Adherent placed the baby on her breast before the cord was cut or the placenta delivered. One long look at her, and a name was spoken no Brother in attendance dared to contradict.
Sigil named her daughter Que.
It was two weeks before she’d let one of the Brotherhood touch her, and then it was only because she was so tired. Sigil was afraid she would drop her. While the mother slept, every last Brother in the palace passed Que around. They counted her toes, her fingers, analyzed what might be the final shade of her eyes.
The Brotherhood’s jubilation turned to concern—their Sigil did not wake, not for two days. When she did she was confused, Sovereign by her side offering instant comfort by showing her their thriving baby.
Little lips were set to her breast, Sigil’s nipple pulsating as the child fed.
Sovereign might stroke her hair, Karhl might pet her shoulder, Tiburon might have stood at the foot of her bed watching, but Sigil saw only Que.
Sigil didn’t put her down for a year. For an entire year she smiled.
She adored the baby, even going so far once—and only once—to thank Sovereign for giving her so perfect a creation. Their female laughed and played. Once the babe was in her arms she even spoke less of her intended revenge against Arden—of how she would hunt him down, tear apart the Tessan Empire that thought to shield him—and eat him slowly.
But her fatigue grew.
The baby was in her cradle the first time it happened. They found Sigil sprawled on the floor, Que wailing. She did not wake for several days, only to open her eyes unsure where she was.
Sovereign did not leave her side once.
Neither did Tiburon, which caused some tension.
When Que had started crawling, the mother could hardly stay awake, though she tried. With heartbreak Sigil felt the truth of the situation. They should have known this would happen. They should have been prepared. She was falling into another long sleep cycle; only this one was not plagued by madness.
S
he was going to miss so much. Thoughts of leaving her child in the care of men she would never fully trust, left her weeping over her fair-haired daughter.
A few more cycles passed, Sigil moving slowly, and it happened again.
“It is time for me to sleep.”
Sovereign assured her, seated next to her on the bed. “You are only tired because you try to carry the burden of the child’s care alone. You need to rest.”
There was pity in her wet eyes, pity that spoke of the honesty of her confession. “When you found me on Pax, I told you that decades of my lifetime I have slept. It was not a form of imprisonment forced upon me by Que. It was necessary. He watched over me. Had he lived, he would have urged me into cryo months ago.”
Shaking his head, Sovereign disagreed with his long dead rival. “Corths will adjust your implant, my darling. If it is a question of chemistry, it will be resolved.”
“Please... listen to me, Sovereign. It may be many years before I wake.” Fear crept into her voice, it made her lip shake as she pleaded. She whispered to Sovereign that Elba was to care for her daughter. Que was not to be raised in the palace amongst the Brotherhood. They would taint her, Sigil insisted—indulge her too much, as the twins had been indulged. The girl needed to be taught humility, that she was a part of a whole.
The Imperial Consort made him swear using the only enticement she could. “I do know a fondness for you, Sovereign, for the daughter you’ve given me... I feel it here.” She put her hand to her heart. “Love me in return. Promise me you’ll do as I ask.”
The man broke down, the palace quaking as he cried. He tried everything to keep her eyes open. He kissed her, thought to seduce with soft touches. He even screamed at her. “I cannot bear another forty-seven years without you!”
Her closed eyes did not twitch.
After many tests, Corths confirmed that Sigil was in a state of hibernation similar to her extended coma after the fall of Pax—and that there was nothing that could be done. She would wake up when she was ready.
It was Karhl who’d carried the toddler to the baker, Karhl who visited every chance he could. Que knew her father, she saw Sovereign often—the emperor played with her, talked to her, but his heart was distracted, most of his hours spent underground tending to his sleeping Consort.
Tiburon hardly paid the girl any attention. Instead he ruled, unhappy with his lot to carry the weight of the empire. Of all of them, Karhl suspected that it was Tiburon who missed her most.
Epilogue:
It was many steps down to the place the little one wanted to see. For years he’d carried her on his shoulders or his hip, for the visit. Not anymore. She’d reached an age where she no longer wanted help, not when she could show off how grown up she was.
Karhl held her hand, dwarfing her little fingers in his as she took the steps one at a time.
So far under Irdesi Prime’s surface, they were surrounded by cool, constant atmosphere. It smelled of mineral damp, of unseen water, and the algae allowed to flourish so it might continuously purify the air.
There were still many steps to go, but the little girl began to grin. “She’s singing today. No bad dreams.”
Thank the gods. Not every visit was smooth. More than once the child had grown frightened before she’d made it down the final steps. From the way the little girl had screamed, her terror as she turned to run, Sigil’s occasional nightmares were truly awful.
The warrior composed his face into a small smile, completely taken with the child. “Of course she sings. Your mother loves you.”
For a second the little one grew sad. “Then why won’t she wake up?”
“Come along, Que.” Karhl carefully squeezed her fingers. “You don’t want to keep her waiting.”
The stairs curved again, and then a room full of soft light came into view. The tomb was a large one, the room’s occupant lain upon a carved slab at the center. Around her, several soldiers stood still as stone, as if they too had been carved from the rock.
Releasing Karhl’s fingers, Que ran forward with a laugh. “Look, Papa, Daddy’s already been here today.”
Tucked under the fingers crossed over Sigil’s stomach sat a fruit with a dark purple rind.
Climbing on top of the display like a monkey, the little girl plopped down in the dreaming woman’s lap. She took the fruit, and began to pick at the peel.
The Lord Commander moved to stand over them both. “Sovereign left that as a gift for your mother.”
Impish, already stuffing mushed mangosteen in her mouth, Que said, “Mommy wouldn’t care. She’d share if I wanted some.”
A white brow cocked, Karhl remained unmoving. “And what will Elba say when you go home and have no appetite for dinner?”
That stopped little fingers covered with fruit pulp before they might wreck more destruction upon the treat. Que took the ruined thing, placing it back under her mother’s hand.
“That’s a good girl.”
Karhl turned his eyes from the child with pale hair just like her mother’s so he might look upon the woman he loved. The back of his knuckles ran down a cold cheek, the hulk bending forward to place a chaste kiss on Sigil’s mouth.
For four years, he’d done so every day duty allowed him to linger on Irdesi Prime.
“You look sad.” The little girl tried to comfort her favorite Brother. “It’s almost time for the fracturing. It will make you feel better. I’ll even hold your hand.”
Lord Commander Karhl gestured towards the face of his sleeping lover. “I brought you here to show you something, child—something that does not make me sad at all.”
That caught her interest, the little girl with eyes as blue as the sea sat forward, smiling brightly. “What?”
Above them the fracturing began, and though they could not see it, a dim reminder of the echoing connection could be felt deep underground.
Karhl laid his free hand over Sigil’s, cocking his chin towards her face. “Look at your mother.”
Que did as she was told, the stony face of the Imperial Consort altering so minutely a human would have missed it.
Sigil was softly smiling.
Just once the woman’s chest expanded, her child jostled by the deep breath.
The fracturing ended, the smile faded, no matter how Que tried to press it back up with her sticky fingers.
Karhl put a reassuring hand on the child’s back; he allowed inflection into his voice. “Your mother is trying to wake.”
To be continued...
Alpha’s Control
~Coming Summer 2017~
Everything had been prepared, extraction flawless.
Huddled on his lap, her body enveloped by his coat, slept an Omega that was his. The shock of the leap into his arms she’d handled well; the way she’d slept once he had her, a sign she felt safe. Not once had his purr faltered, it projected powerfully so Claire might continue her rest and Shepherd might take the time to examine his mate.
Her head cradled against his shoulder, he moved a light touch over her face. The bridge of her nose, last he’d seen had been badly broken. While she’d convalesced, doctors had set it, but a sharp eye could see the slightest bump and hairline scar. Shepherd traced over the flaw, going next to circle the socket of her eye. That had healed well, no permanent mark remaining from the orbital fracture, no impairment of vision.
She was in perfect physical health.
A small whimper in sleep, and Claire turned her face toward his chest. It was so like her to be fussy whenever he’d inspected her beauty in the past. Shepherd smirked at her unconscious protest, hugging her to him, so he might deeply inhale his Omega’s scent.
Across from where Shepherd fawned over his female, a woman read through pages of a chart, quick fingers flipping quietly. “Severe PTSD—improvement nominal. Her list of medications has altered since our last update. Claire O’Donnell is on a great deal of sedatives, some of which are highly addictive.”
“She will be given whatever sh
e needs,” Shepherd, cautious to keep his voice low, answered the unwelcome interruption.
Dr. Osin looked up from the pages. “There is a list of twice daily opiate injections here, doses larger than what I would deem safe. Considering the cocktail of medications, I cannot foresee the side effects of abruptly ending this treatment. Possible withdrawal may make her very ill. She will have to be carefully monitored.”
He didn’t care what she may or may not be addicted to. His Claire probably didn’t even know what poison they’d been pumping inside her. None of this was her fault.
The only one in the cargo ship who Shepherd found fault with at this moment was Dr. Osin. Shepherd glared, eyes threatening death, certain the woman’s voice was disruptive to Claire’s rest. “Leave us.”
“As she is still fully medicated, I suggest you mate her the moment she wakes. It will be better to have it over with rather than something she ruminates over. Anticipate fear.” The woman stood, spine ramrod as she exited the forward cabin of their transport to join the soldiers in the cockpit.
It had been over a year. Clinically mounting his mate in the cargo hold of a transport ship was not exactly the elegant treatment Claire deserved, but there was wisdom in Dr. Osin’s suggestion. It was something Shepherd had already considered himself. And it needed to be done.
Transition would be easier if the bandage were ripped off, so to speak.
A quantity of blankets had been prepared, set in a quasi-nest in case she’d needed such a comfort. Once he laid her upon it, Shepherd woke her with the growl. Dazed, Claire groaned, half aware when her body automatically responded and slick flowed. The instant he parted the jacket covering her damp nightgown, her eyes went wide and the Omega fully awoke.
Her end of the link frayed, buzzing in panic when an Alpha pressed her down to something soft and held her there under his weight.
“Shhhhhh,” Shepherd cooed, trying hard to resonate properly for her so Claire would recognize that he was not going to hurt her. “Spread your legs for me, little one.”
