by Tracy Tappan
Expelling another gravelly animal sound, Jaċken sagged forward at the waist.
Nỵko quickly hooked his arms under his brother’s armpits, his forearms wrapping over Jaċken’s shoulders, to keep his brother from nose-drilling into the floor. “I need you to stay in touch with your radar,” Nỵko said.
The two of them scuffled around the waiting room, head to head, like two Sumo wrestlers going at it. A chair got booted across the floor.
The occupants of the waiting room pressed back, the males body-shielding the women. Some of the wives were weeping, loudly, while others were stone-cold silent. Difficult to tell which was worse.
“Feel your radar and tell me if Tonĩ’s all right,” Nỵko told his brother. “Is she?!”
An eternal pause, then, “I don’t know,” Jaċken moaned out.
Nỵko squeezed his brother harder, motivation for Jaċken, a hug of relief for himself. That had been a relatively normal-sounding response. “You do know.”
Jaċken breathed audibly for several seconds. “Yes…she’s not…she’s not dead.”
The surrounding women muffled relieved cries against their men.
“She’s bad, though. Christ, Nỵko, she’s really bad off.”
Which turned out to be very true.
A few minutes later, a harried Dr. Jess had rushed out to give them an update. Tonĩ’s blood pressure was dangerously low, making the next twenty-four hours crucial for her survival. The baby, who’d been resuscitated, was doing only marginally better than Tonĩ, and so was also facing an uphill climb to remain alive. After that, Dr. Jess had shooed them all off, not wanting anyone under foot for the stressful work ahead of him, but he’d promised to keep them informed of any changes, good or bad.
So now here they all were, huddled in the Brun household, one heckuva sorry group.
Dev, who had a pregnant wife due in two weeks, looked to be permanently choking on a handful of red hot chili peppers. When Marissa had come by a few hours ago to drop off an egg and cheese breakfast casserole, Dev had ordered her to “Go home and lie down!”
Shọn looked way out of his element for what to do in the situation, since he’d never been particularly close to either Jaċken or Nỵko, but it said a lot that he was here and trying.
Jaċken’s state of messed-up-ness went without saying.
Nỵko himself was trying to manage all of these grim happenings while stuck in an excruciating half-bond. No. Excruciating couldn’t even begin to describe this extra-special form of torture and insanity. Maybe this: it felt like every inch of his skin had been ripped off his body, dunked in boiling oil, then reapplied with serrated needles. And whoever had tacked his flesh back into place had done a slipshod job. His skin kept coming off his muscles, scraping, chafing, abrading. There wasn’t any part of him that didn’t feel completely wrong. He would’ve been willing to hack off his knife-throwing hand to be done with it.
But the only relief for him lay with Faith and what was between her thighs. Crass, but true. If it wasn’t for his absolute refusal to leave Jaċken even for one minute, he would’ve long since succumbed to his fierce primal drive, run to Faith, and without finesse or prelude, mounted her. So, he supposed on one hand it was good that he was being held here. Because in the light of clearer thinking, he had to face facts: Faith had offered up her vein to him to save his life. He, in turn, had partaken of her generosity because he’d grown too weak to resist. Those two things combined put their pre-bonding solidly into the desperate times call for desperate measures category. And after all of the other hurts he’d already inflicted on her, he didn’t want to add to those by losing control of himself and humping her escape option into oblivion. That would amount to them being blood-bonded by force, which wasn’t the best beginning for a strong, long-lasting marriage.
Unfortunately for him, he had no idea how long a half-bond worked at forcibly pulling a man toward completion before it finally released the guy from its talons. The data was sketchy on that, seeing as so few Vârcolac had ever made it through this horror to the other side. But if he was stuck here long enough in the Brun household, maybe he’d return to an unbounded state, and then Faith would be off the hook. And all the screaming inside his head would at last shut up.
He gripped the edge of the sink in tight fists. The mere thought of giving up Faith sent ropes of flesh unfurling off his body, his atoms sprouting lethal spikes. His knuckles throbbed, his tight jaw ached, but those feelings were absolute joy compared to the merciless vise of lust that had a grip on less-mentionable parts of his body. Thinking about it so much is really helping, too. Forcing himself to straighten off the sink, Nỵko picked up the pitcher of iced tea—his hand trying to play the bongos instead of following his commands—and carefully set it on the kitchen island near some glasses. He squeezed his quaking hand into a fist. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.
Time leaked by like sand through a partially corked hourglass.
Pändra, uncharacteristically teary-eyed, showed up with Thomal at one point. Then Ãlex Parthen, who was finally tracked down at a computer seminar topside, arrived, not just teary, but full-on sobbing. Jaċken bear hugged Ãlex for a very long moment.
Time, that cow, wouldn’t move fast enough…yet somehow steadily trudged forward, moving from day hours to evening to night. During it all, somber neighbors came and went from the house, quietly checking in and dropping off food. ESPN played constantly on the television, though Nỵko doubted anyone actually watched it. The weary vigil-keepers stared at the screen until they began to drift off; Dev and Shọn flopped out on the couch, Ãlex with his head down on the dining room table, Luvera slumped asleep in a chair next to him, Pändra cuddled up in an armchair with Thomal.
Huh. Nỵko supposed now wasn’t the time to ask about that.
Nỵko stayed in the kitchen, pretending to putter, when he was really just fidgeting, certainly not sleeping, what with being stuck in this wanna-stick-my-willy-inside-Faith-and-come-like-a-fire-hose mood. Jeez. He really wished he’d stop having such crass thoughts.
Jaċken, not surprisingly, didn’t sleep, either. He continued to do what he’d been doing as soon as he’d come home from the hospital: sit in an armchair, his palms planted on his knees, and stare at the floor. Twice he’d changed the program and gone to the bathroom. He never ate or drank or even—
There was a soft knock at the door.
Nỵko cast a quick, hopeful glance at Jaċken, then strode swiftly and silently to open it.
It was Marissa. She was biting her lower lip and her brow was knotted.
Nỵko hated the F-bomb, but he dropped it now when he shifted his focus down to her swollen belly. In the last months of pregnancy, a momma-to-be got strapped up with a labor alarm that warned of oncoming sonic blasts.
Marissa’s belly lights were presently winking like a Star Wars X-wing fighter during a Death Star attack, and, whoa, maybe he’d been spending too much time with Ãlex, lately.
“Oh, no.” Nỵko clunked his head onto the doorjamb. “Dev’s going to crap himself.”
“I know,” Marissa groaned.
At the sound of his name, Dev sat up from the couch, blinking sleepily. His vision cleared on Marissa, and—he was on his feet, over the back of the couch, and at the door in a single leap. His eyes rounded on his wife’s flashing belly lights. “Dammit to hell, Marissa, I told you to lie down, didn’t I?”
“It’s not my fault.” Marissa’s voice cracked. “I didn’t overdo it, I swear.”
Dev jammed his fingers into his hair. “Shit! All right—dammit!—let’s go.” Dropping a steady battery of F-bombs, he pounded out onto the porch and took his wife’s arm, leading her down the steps. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”
“Nichita, hold up.” It was Jaċken, angling passed Nỵko and heading out onto the porch. “Listen, Marissa is going to be fine, all right? She’s not going to have complications like Tonĩ did because…” Jaċken went down the porch steps and lowered his voi
ce. “What I’m going to tell you is private, okay? Just between us.” He took a breath. “When Tonĩ was sixteen years old, she had a baby.”
Marissa gasped softly.
Oh, wow. Nỵko pulled the front door into a thin seam.
Jaċken dragged a hand through his hair. “She never talks about it, because she feels so guilty about giving the kid up for adoption. Unfortunately, she represses it so deeply she didn’t even tell Dr. Jess about it as a part of her medical history. The poor guy had no idea what was going on in that delivery room until I brought it up. At that point he figured out that Tonĩ’s body was confused from birthing a human baby before. Her womb didn’t know how to shift into Vârcolac labor. So, you see, there was a clear reason for Tonĩ’s problems.” Jaċken turned to speak directly to Marissa. “Have you ever given birth to a human baby?”
The motion of Marissa’s lashes released a tear down her cheek. “No. This is the first time I’ve ever been pregnant.”
“Then you won’t have any problems, Marissa, just like all the other women in this town who’ve had plenty of healthy Vârcolac babies without a hitch: Hannah, Ellen, Beth, Maggie. Right?”
“Yes.” Marissa looked at Dev.
Dev pulled in a deep breath, still tense, but now more focused. “Yeah. Okay. Jaċken’s right. You’re going to be fine, Riss. I’m going to make sure of it.” He hauled Jaċken into a single-back-slap hug, then gave Marissa a quick kiss. “Sorry I fell apart on you for a second.” Scooping his wife into his arms, he took off for the hospital.
Jaċken watched the two of them go. When they disappeared around a corner, he turned and, without a word, went back to his armchair.
Chapter Forty-five
Nỵko stood just behind Jaċken’s left shoulder, his eyes fixated on the Plexiglas bassinet inside the hospital baby room. He didn’t know how he stopped himself from rushing over and peering into it, his hands clasped beneath his chin like he was oohing over a basket of puppies. Probably because Jaċken hadn’t moved past the doorjamb, yet, so he couldn’t. Or Ãlex.
It was six o’clock in the morning, twenty-four hours after Tonĩ had coded and six hours after Marissa went into labor. A short time ago, Dr. Jess had come to the Brun household to make the welcome and long-awaited announcement that Tonĩ had stabilized and a healthy Baby Brun was hungry. Would Jaċken like to come to the hospital and give his child a bottle?
In joy, profound relief, leftover debilitating shock, or whatever, for now Jaċken remained frozen in the doorway, staring at Dev, who was hovering over the Plexiglas basinet and peering at its occupant, a smile on his face. Dev was also holding a blanket-wrapped bundle in his arms.
“Everything…go all right?” Jaċken asked Dev.
Dev met Jaċken’s eyes and smiled. “Delivery was textbook.”
“I enjoyed that part, too,” Dr. Jess said wearily from where he stood by the bassinet.
“Marissa’s sacked out,” Dev added. “Tired as hammered shit, but really great.”
“Okay, good.” Jaċken exhaled a careful-sounding breath. “Good.” He aimed an inquisitive look at the bundle. “And?”
Dev’s smile returned, lighting his entire face. “A healthy baby boy. We’re naming him Randon.”
Jaċken nodded slowly.
Nỵko sensed a muscular tension in his brother, like Jaċken was holding up a wall of unstable bricks, so freaking exhausted and ready to let them go, but unable to relax his hold quite yet.
Jaċken stared at the bassinet, then looked over at Dr. Jess. “I don’t even know what Tonĩ and I had. In all the turmoil, it just…”
Jess’s eyes warmed kindly. “You have a daughter, Jaċken.”
“No, you’ve got an angel.” Dev peered into the bassinet again.
Nỵko laughed, utterly delighted. A little girl-angel niece. How cool.
Jaċken started in on nodding again, the monotonous gesture speaking of how many hours this man had spent dazed and terrified, his life teetering on the edge of utter annihilation. If Jaċken had lost both Tonĩ and his child today, even one of them, no way he would’ve ever… No. Nỵko didn’t want to think about it anymore. Too many hours of sitting with that possibility had already twisted his gut into a lot of knots.
“And…she’s okay?” Jaċken asked Jess. “I mean, she came out looking really…”
The baby came out looking really dead, so Jaċken was right to be concerned about her wellbeing. Nỵko shifted his feet, the knots in his stomach tightening. Heck, maybe he was the one who couldn’t let go of the stress bricks.
“Yes,” Dr. Jess answered. “I’ve done some preliminary tests on her—visual acuity, hearing, brain wave function, and she passed splendidly. I believe she was extremely tuckered out by the extensive labor before. But she’s proving as strong as her mother in recovering.” Jess placed a hand on the bassinet. “Would you like to come meet her?”
“Yeah, uh…” Jaċken rubbed a hand over the middle of his chest, probably a double-check: radar’s still chill? Yes. Like a sleepwalker, Jaċken made his way up to the bassinet, Nỵko and Ãlex on either side of him.
All three men peered down at the wriggly occupant.
“Oh, man!” Nỵko exclaimed. “She’s adorable!”
Dev had been right. Jaċken’s daughter was an angel with a head full of strawberry-blonde hair, just like her momma’s, a tiny rosebud of a mouth, and long lashes resting demurely against her cheeks like dollhouse fans. Dressed only in a diaper, she was also modeling a lot of pink, vibrant skin. She appeared to be a healthy baby, for sure.
Ãlex moved to the head of the bassinet and smiled down at his niece. “No way that’s your kid, Jaċken. She’s too cute.”
Jaċken snorted. The noise sounded kind of soggy.
The baby’s lids lifted, and the group of them laughed.
“Hello, there’s Jaċken,” Nỵko said, gazing into his niece’s lustrous pure black eyes.
Jaċken made another sound in his throat, then he tucked his face into the crook of his arm.
Nỵko grabbed ahold of his brother and dragged him close. The man was spent.
“Ah, crap,” Jaċken said into his arm. “After everything I’ve gone through tonight—in my whole life—now I break down.”
Dev moved over to Jaċken’s other side. “All bets are off when it comes to a guy’s kid, man. I’ve been blubbering for hours. Hell, I might sympathy cry again now, you don’t quit soon.”
Jaċken laughed, a jerky sound, still damp around the edges. “That’s it, then. From here on out, we’re banned from the gym. Shit.” He wiped his eyes a little on his sleeve before he brought his head up. “I need a drink of water; I need to feed; I need a nap; I need my wife to wake up.” He gripped the edge of the bassinet. “I was never supposed to have this kid, then I lost her, and now here she is, looking like Tonĩ, and…Christ.”
The baby pursed her sweet little lips and let out an indignant squeak.
They all chuckled again. It seemed like none of them could get enough of her.
“She’s hungry,” Dr. Jess observed brightly. “Are you ready to feed your daughter, Jaċken? I’ve already prepared a bottle.”
Jaċken let out a long, long breath, the load of bricks finally rolling off his shoulders. “That would be amazing.” Reaching into the bassinet, Jaċken wrapped his daughter in a blanket and, careful to support her neck—as he’d learned reading baby books—gently picked her up. “Hi there, little one,” he said in a soft voice Nỵko never would’ve guessed his stiff-jawed brother could’ve produced. “Your name is Sharanna.”
The baby instantly stopped her fussing, peering at Jaċken in wonderment.
“Look at that.” Ãlex moved nearer for a better view. “She knows her daddy. Guess all that time talking to Tonĩ’s belly paid off.”
Jaċken tucked Sharanna’s blanket under her chin. “Nỵko, you getting it, yet?”
Nỵko peered more closely at the baby. “Getting what?”
“The last twenty-four hour
s have been the worst in my life, and you know that means something when I say it, considering where we come from.” Jaċken accepted a bottle from Dr. Jess. “Yet, I can safely say everything I went through these last hours was so fucking worth it.” Jaċken slipped the nipple into his daughter’s mouth and smiled. “You think maybe you can learn something from that, big brother?”
Nỵko watched Sharanna suckle happily, her gaze fastened on her father. To be looked at like that would be…the most amazing… An object the size of a baseball wedged into his throat. He swallowed, but the sucker stayed.
Jaċken glanced up, the sudden intensity in his eyes wrenching cords in Nỵko’s stomach. “Go to Faith. Stop being afraid, you big chowderhead.”
Nỵko blinked, but stood like stone, the knots in his stomach rooting him to the spot.
Jaċken shifted the baby in his arms. “Am I going to have to hit you?”
“It worked for Thomal,” Dev drawled.
Nỵko startled back to himself. What the heck was he doing. “No, that’s all right. I’m going now. In fact”—he pointed at the doorway behind him—“you don’t mind if I run, do you?”
* * *
Faith clicked on her nightstand lamp and leapt out of bed, whirling her bathrobe around her body as she raced for her bedroom door. The only reason anyone would be knocking at six-thirty in the morning would be for news about Tonĩ. Finally! Faith had been lying awake in bed all night. She must’ve choreographed an entire ballet in her head by now. Whipping open her door, she—
Her heart fell. No! Nỵko looked terrible. Dark bruises of exhaustion lay under his eyes, his face was drawn into a mask of pain, and if she didn’t know better, she’d say it was raining in Ţărână—he was drenched. So the news was bad. She clutched her bathrobe. “Oh, no.”
“Tonĩ’s okay,” he quickly assured her. “The baby, too. Sorry to wake you, but I thought you’d want to know.”
