by F. G. Adams
“I’m so glad you made it back safely. The wait was horrible. I was worried sick with concern for everyone. I cannot begin to tell you all the crazy thoughts running amuck in my head. It was rough not being there,” Wren breathes out in short, little puffs while rubbing the middle of her back.
Instantly, Aldin appears at her side. “My Wren, what is wrong? I feel your discomfort. There is a build in it even since I have been in your presence.”
“I’ve been having contractions for the past few hours. No biggie. It’s probably just Braxton Hicks. It’s just my body’s way of fooling me into believing it’s time for the little man to make an appearance. I’ll be fine as soon as it passes,” Wren replies out of breath as she scrunches her nose.
Aldin takes out a white handkerchief. “You don’t look well, my mate. You are sweating across your brow,” he observes, wiping the droplets of perspiration from Wren’s temple.
“Quit worrying so much. It’s all good, my Aldin. I just need to lie down and rest for a little whi—” Wren doubles over, groaning and grasping her protruding stomach, fainting before our very eyes. Thankfully, Aldin is there to catch her and lower her to the floor.
“It’s the baby, my son,” Marcus interjects without an ounce of concern.
“Yes, I feel his presence, my lord. He is ready to enter this world whether we are ready or not. No doubt we will be welcoming a new Immortal soon,” Aldin proudly reiterates, smiling like a loon.
“It is time.” Marcus nods in assurance, his tranquil demeanor calming.
There is a buzz in the air with the anticipation of the birth. Candie frantically stirs around, as Aldin carries Wren off to their bed chamber and Marcus brings order and calmness to the group assembled.
“Sister, your assistance, of course, will be needed for the birthing,” Marcus wisely instructs.
I hold up a finger. “I will be there soon, Maarku. I require a quiet moment with my mates after what transpired. Don’t worry. There is plenty of time before little Aldin joins us.” I knowingly grin.
“Whatever you need, Jadzia. But please hurry. The birth of the child is of utmost importance.”
“As has been forecasted from the beginning, dear brother. I will be on my way soon. Trust me. Labor takes time. Women have been doing it since the dawn of time. I have the time.” Jadzia chuckles.
Fedor sits proudly on his hind haunches beside me. His long silky tail swooshes back and forth, knightly and full of honor. I turn to speak, choked with emotion from their combined courageous bravery.
“My warriors, I must speak with you before we go any further,” Jadzia sweetly urges.
“Allow us one moment to transform, my beloved,” Fedor briefly mentions.
A flash of brilliant gold illumination transforms the massive beast into Brenton Fox. And he pursues me, wrapping me into his warm embrace. The intense emotions from both course through me. I’m comforted by their need to reassure me.
“What do you need, sweetheart? We are both here for you,” Brenton murmurs into my hair, caressing my lower back gently. He understands my longing and need to be as close as possible.
“Yes, we are here, my beloved. Always,” Fedor adamantly repeats Brenton’s vow. My heart swells in adoration. I am truly blessed to have loved and been loved by both.
“I’m so thankful that you are both safe. It was touchy there for a little while. I was troubled that we wouldn’t make it back to the earth realm when I became weak from the taxation on my powers. The drain of keeping Baako at arm’s length and the doorway open was more than I had realized.”
“We made it, beloved. No need to worry anymore. We will not be parted again. That time is in the past,” Fedor gently reminds me, sending waves of love and happiness through our shared link.
“The future belongs to us. Focus on where we go from here. We are together, and that’s all that counts.” Brenton’s eyes are warm as he smiles that sexy smile I’m enamored with.
“We are three, now and forever,” I mumble against Brenton’s lips as he lavishes me with a kiss that emphasizes over and over how much I’m truly loved.
“Argh! Damn it!” Baako screams at the top of his lungs, punching and kicking anything in the path of his angry tirade. “This is not the way it was supposed to happen. Jafar!”
The decaying soldiers stand around, cowering in fear from what occurred in the last sixty seconds, as Jafar meekly bows. It’s a wonder they are standing near him at all because of the power raining off him in electrical currents.
“Yes, your majesty. I am here,” Jafar quietly announces, falling onto his knees.
“You, and you.” Baako points at two of the half-dead zombies. The pair look between each other with a horrific expression. “I’m sending you to that blasted temple. You are to be my eyes and ears. Do you understand?” They nod in unison. “I want to know if any activity ensues. The comings and goings of every living being inside. If someone as much as sneezes, I want to know. Do not let me down.”
He opens the portal for the couple, and they scurry off through it with slumped shoulders, defeated. Either way, this is the end for the duo. Whether Baako finishes them off for not accumulating the information he requires, or the other Immortals at the temple will end their existence once their presence is known.
“No! Do you feel that? It can’t be,” Baako shouts into the dimming light. For a brief moment, the presence of Wren and Aldin’s unborn child was ever present, with goodness and peace filling the chamber.
“Your Majesty, you have time,” Jafar whispers from his prone position.
“You are correct. Rise, my faithful servant. Come, my beautiful creatures and loyal soldiers. Let us go home and regroup. We have much planning to do. With the Crown of Freya in the hands of my enemies and the time drawing near for the birth, we need to revise our tactics and ready ourselves for the next obstacle Maarku throws my way. Somehow, I need to find Callazee before he does. Those goody-two-shoes cannot be allowed to find the next relic, nor can they find the Abgrund Stone, or all will end for us.”
Baako unlocks the gateway to his hideaway, and they exit into the glimmering light.
Epilogue
“The real power of a man is in the smile of the woman sitting next to him.” ~ Aldin Kovac
The woman of my dreams is currently lying balled up on her side, round and full with child. My enchanting, beautiful Wren. Between the deplorable pain from the contractions to bring our child into this world, her loving expression has me down on my knees, praying to the God and Goddess for their protection in hopes they can aid in a safe delivery of our child and in keeping my woman healthy and alive. Life without her would end me.
Wren is a trooper, and I’m humbled by her tenacity and strength as I watch her breathe through the stabbing cramps that come with the birthing of a child, feeling each contraction as if it’s my own through our connection. She attempts to shield me from the pain, but it trickles through to me at her weakest moments.
Marcus joins us in the massive chamber I’ve come to know as home since Baako’s first attack. “How is she fairing, my son?” he asks, taking a seat in the vacant chair next to me.
“She’s hanging in there, as people say.” I shrug and wipe her brow with a cold compress.
“Good. Jadzia should be along momentarily. She requested time alone with her mate, and after all that transpired, I could not object. Looks to me I’ve become a softy in my old age.” He shrugs. “I’ve been told women have been having children since the beginning of time with little or no complications. Besides, everything is going to be fine, my kin.” He smirks, watching the woman sitting across from him.
“True, but not my Wren. And this child is special among all others, my lord.” I’m worried, and nothing anyone says is going to make me feel better. The sooner the child arrives, the better.
“Yes, you are correct, but Wren has been in the delivery room hundreds of times. She understands what’s happening. The doctor in her realizes the process. Don’t
lose your focus, Aldin. The child will survive. His great importance to us and the future has been predicted. It is you who needs to take a walk, my son,” Marcus attempts to persuade me to leave Wren’s side. I think not.
“I will not leave her in her time of need. Please, do not ask it of me, my lord.”
“Not exactly what I meant. You misunderstood me, Aldin. You seem a bit off-kilter to me. I believe you may need to have a drink of fresh Immortal blood. Should help with the nerves you seem to be dealing with. The confrontation with Baako weakened everyone involved. Come, my son. Let me take care of you, so you will be ready to meet your son feeling your best. Yes.” Marcus ushers me with a wave of his hand over to the corner of the vast room, where the dark red settee is situated. I look back at Wren to ensure she rests within my sight. I hesitate briefly to follow as Marcus sits down and waits for me.
“I’ll be right here, my Aldin. It’s not as if you are leaving the premises. You’re only going twenty feet, for God’s sake. Go get what your body requires. It’s okay,” Wren pipes in as I drag my feet, stalling.
“What am I? Chopped liver? Geez, Louise, a girl could get a complex around here. I’m sitting here,” Candie chimes in, pointing at the floor beneath her. “Trust me. She’s not going anywhere, ya big hunk of a vampire. I’ll take over dousing her with a cold washcloth and spooning her ice chips.”
“Thank you, Candie.” Crouching down to the bed, I place a soft kiss on Wren’s sweaty forehead. “I’ll be right over there if you need me, my Wren.”
I reluctantly amble to the corner settee, where Marcus is waiting. When I sit down next to him, he bares his wrist and I strike quickly, drinking in a large swallow of the life-giving sustenance Marcus offers to me. I make haste in my feeding, in a hurry to get back to my mate’s bedside. To our unborn child that is surely to make his appearance in the world today. The same child of the prophecy, the one who will unite us all.
“I learned when I was young to be brave, take risks. Nothing can substitute the experience of what is or could be. Will I ever see you smiling back at me?” ~ Candie Knight
The sensual way Aldin caresses Marcus’ forearm as he drinks from his vein causes a stir of longing in my deepest, most private parts. I realize it’s not a sexual thing between father and son, but the act itself and the expression of lust and need Marcus directs at me during the feeding drives me wild.
From the moment I laid eyes on the dark and mysterious Marcus Dalca, I haven’t been able to get the seductive Immortal out of my mind. Long before I knew him as an other, he intrigued me in a way I’ve never felt before.
Lord knows, I’ve tried to stay away as long as possible. But each time I think I’m over the infatuation, something else happens and I run smack dab into the same desire Marcus causes in me. He speaks to me in a way no other ever has without saying a word.
Wren screams out in pain, which brings me back to the present and out of my lustful daydream of Marcus.
“It’s…the ba-baby. He’s coming.” Her choppy, splintered admission summons Aldin, and he instantly appears at her side, gripping her hand tightly, whispering words of love and encouragement. He ambles onto the bed and climbs up to position himself behind her back, securing Wren up against him, using his iron-clad chest as a prop. The birthing position.
Jadzia and Brenton enter the room. The Goddess begins barking orders and directing those closest with her list of needed items for the birth.
“Clean linens, wash cloths, towels, and a hot bowl of water for now.”
“I’m on it,” Brenton replies, rushing out the same way he came in only moments before.
“Aldin, please allow Marcus to go into your closet and retrieve one of your playtime implements. Stirrups, to be exact. I’m sure you can relay to him where they are stored.” The Goddess Jadzia waits for Aldin to respond as he turns his head toward Marcus. “We are all aware of your sexual preferences. Please, don’t blush.”
“Who cares? Now’s not the time, Aldin,” Wren shouts in between heavy pants.
“On it, sister. I’ll be right back.” Marcus disappears. Within a few minutes, he returns, holding a pair of stirrups I’m sure have never seen a baby birthing.
“Am I the only one who thinks this is a bit strange?” I comment, hoping someone will agree with the craziness of the situation.
“I would call it fun,” Brenton answers with a broad smirk, eyeing Jadzia up and down.
“You would, my warrior. Maybe later?” Jadzia replies in a seductive tone, and I feel like we’ve just stepped into a private conversation.
“Enough, Jadzia. This is not the time or place for seduction. There’s a baby about to be born, for crying out loud,” an exasperated Marcus reprimands, and I giggle from the expression on his always too serious face.
Jadzia turns her attention to where Wren is spread wide, her feet buckled into the stirrups. “My sincere apologies, oh perfect one.” She casts a look over at Marcus, smiling. “The baby is crowning. He’s got a head full of black hair, lucky parents. On the next contraction, get ready to push, Wren,” Jadzia explains in a relaxed tone.
Wren nods, ready.
“I’m with you, my Wren. I’ll lend you my strength if you need. Concentrate. You can do this,” Aldin whispers to his mate, kissing the crown of her head and tending to her brow with a damp cloth.
The knowledge that everything is about to change comes crashing down on me. It’s no longer going to be just me and Wren hanging out. There will be another. Her child. I thought it would change when she bonded to Aldin, but we made an adjustment. This changes everything. I’m going to be alone, by myself. Will our friendship survive if I don’t plan on having children? Heck, I’ve got to find a boyfriend first and get married. That’s the cart before the horse, Candie girl. Will she still care for me…?
A small voice interrupts my desperate musings and whispers into the depths of my soul.
“The world as you know it is coming to an end. But a new horizon is at hand for you as well. Do not despair. I am the beginning of the end for the evil that plagues the universe. With your help and Maarku’s, we will defeat Baako and bring peace to all world realms.”
“What the fu—” I whisper as my vision collides with golden piercing eyes, a knowing look adorning the face of the man I desperately yearn for.
THE END
Coming October 23, 2017
The 7: Lust #6
Preorder on Amazon / Nook / iBooks
Prologue
I lust for life. I am young. I fell into a young love only to fall tragically out of love.
~ Savannah Bushard
The whimsical pink and white roses garnished with silk ribbon and lace bouquet fall softly onto the altar. When I was planning my big day, the romantic treasures from another time and place made my heart skip a beat. Lovely little details I handpicked to set the scene for the vintage wedding, a girl’s fantasy come to life.
The guests left the church hours ago. The air is smoky as the sea of tea candles finally reach the end of their wick. I haven’t moved from the spot I’m currently standing on. The place I was going to promise my life to the man of my dreams.
It’s been two weeks since I turned twenty-one and graduated from college—cum laude. All for what? To be left standing here watching the flowers slowly wilt as I die a little inside.
I had something borrowed, something blue, and something new. My grandmother’s antique choker. A lacy blue garter belt, a gift from my college roommate, Missy. The tennis bracelet he had given me the night before at the reception dinner in front of God and all our family and friends. My platinum blond hair styled exactly the way he loved, cascading in long ringlets down my back.
After the fight in the foyer of the church, I was determined to walk down the aisle. He would be there, smiling back at me. I believed it. Our family and friends were waiting.
When the church doors opened up wide and my daddy held my arm, the tears began falling. He wasn’t there. He was gone. He had le
ft me. So many broken promises.
I put the veil down trying to hide the tears, but everyone saw them as I walked toward the preacher in the front. My heart breaking into tiny pieces like the little rose petals the flower girl had littered only moments earlier. I couldn’t breathe. The pain was surreal. I was watching the entire thing unfold in a mist of grief and sadness.
Just moments before, my parents had been saying, “He's not coming back, Savannah. Don’t do this to yourself. We can run interference, make excuses for you, and you can go home.”
I wouldn’t listen. I had to see it for myself. He loves me, I told myself over and over.
But it happened. To me.
Because I chose not to live out of fear of what the future might hold.
I took the choice from him to have children, and now I’m paying the price.
Footsteps come closer, and I gaze into the compassionate eyes of my daddy.
“Baby girl, let’s go home. Staying here, like this, isn’t going to solve anything. You need to rest. You can contemplate your future tomorrow,” he gently says, worry etched across his furrowed brow.
“Oh, Daddy, I realize you are trying to make me feel better, but I just can’t. At least not right now. I need time to be alone. Please, just go. I promise I’ll be along soon.”
“Okay, Vanna. We’ll go. Your mother and I will be waiting for you at home,” he concedes.
“Thanks, Daddy. Love you.”
“Love you, too, baby girl.”
When the door closes and I’m finally by myself, I crash to my knees and cry, the fluffy white dress pooling around me, becoming a tissue to capture the river of tears. Before long, the tears of grief turn into tears of anger.
