by Lora Ann
He laid her down on a blanket he’d found earlier. Poised above her, gazing deeply into her eyes, “You are my forever,” he vowed as his cock entered her hot silk.
His hips flicked as hers raised to meet them. A dance meant for only them as husband and wife made love until dusk.
Epilogue
They sat in the doctor’s office for the first consultation. Everyone nervous. What-ifs plagued them all. Lacey worried she would bond with their baby she was offering to carry for them. E concerned they should wait until after they had their own child first. And darker thoughts about the very real scenario of Keeley’s eggs not being viable and Tar’s swimmers being injected in his wife. That one really did not sit well with him. Keeley was anxious and nervous about the entire procedure. And Tar, full of worry for everyone and what happened if something was wrong with his sperm.
None entered the office clueless. They’d done their research, including which clinic to use. Many tests would be ran before the big day. And the odds of success were minimal. Still, they were all ready to embark on this journey together as a family.
Numerous appointments were soon to follow. They were all still young and in good health, each test revealing they could move on to the next step. The big day arrived, Keeley’s eggs and Tar’s sperm had indeed produced four viable embryos. The others harvested would be kept safe and in the clinic. Lacey squeezed her sister’s hand as Keeley asked one final time, “Are you sure? I promise I won’t be mad if it’s too much for you.”
“I’m honored to be your surrogate. We want to do this for you,” she assured, glancing over at her husband.
“Let us give you this,” E affirmed.
Keeley leaned into Tar holding his gaze. They nodded and she turned toward them. “I don’t think thank you is enough,” she admitted.
“It’s called love,” Lacey declared.
Lacey was scheduled for her pregnancy test. They were under doctor’s orders not to fool around. But E assured her they could play without that. She should’ve known better. Yet she couldn’t regret that incredible night. Her body tingled just from the memories. And honestly, she saw no problem with it. Wasn’t as if she’d get pregnant again if everything worked with Keeley and Tar’s baby.
*****
“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” E stood there shell-shocked.
The doctor smiled. “Listen…to that, now…this.”
Keeley gasped, “Two.”
Lacey couldn’t contain her joy. “Twins!”
“Let’s do an ultrasound,” the doctor said. “Stick around and I’ll get you in.”
They all sat around the dinner table still stunned by the news. The proof lay in front of them, ultrasound pictures. Lacey was definitely carrying twins, fraternal to be exact. And she felt it was only right to clue in her sister at the thoughts dancing in her head, no matter how much the odds were stacked against it. She stood. “Keeley, can we have a sister moment?”
E watched them go into the other room, knowing what was on his wife’s heart. Time to have a man-to-man with Tar. “Tar, there’s no way to delicately put this.”
His head cocked toward the man he considered a brother. “You think one of the babies is yours.”
E’s jaw dropped. “How the hell did you know?”
His grin cocky. “I know you wouldn’t stay away from your wife for that long.”
“Hey, I have self-control,” E retorted.
“You already had to refrain for the two weeks leading up to the procedure. I’m not faulting you. I’m saying, I get it.” Tar’s hands were up in a surrender.
E chuckled. “Because you didn’t refrain either.”
“Hell no.”
“Kee, there’s a very real possibility I’m carrying both of our babies,” Lacey blurted out.
“Oh. My. God. What are the odds?”
Lacey sat next to her and held her hand. “We’ve beat every one of them so far. None of this,” placing their clasped fingers on her lower belly, “should’ve happened on the first try.”
Tears in her eyes, Keeley whispered, “It was meant to be.”
Lacey hugged her. “We need to decide as a family if we want to run a paternity test or just wait until these little sweet peas are born.”
*****
Six months later
“It’s nothing to worry about. She’s carrying twins and needs to stay off her feet,” the doctor reassured everyone. “See, look, baby girl and baby boy are just fine. Let me get everything ready for the paternity test.”
A special glance passed between the sisters. “No,” Keeley said with authority. They’d already missed this test due to Lacey having bronchitis. She wasn’t going to jeopardize her sister or those babies for an answer they would have in another two months.
Lacey rubbed her hand over the kicking babies. “Easy there, you’re fine.”
Tar looked at E. “They will be the most loved babies no matter what. I’m with my wife on this one.”
E worried about Lacey most. She kept telling him she’d be fine if both babies weren’t theirs biologically. But he saw it in everything she did, she’d bonded with the lives growing inside her. How could she not? She was already a mother in so many ways. “Sorry, Doc, this is unanimous.”
“Your call.” He shook hands with Tar and E. “I’ll see you,” he addressed Lacey, “in two weeks.”
But later that night, Lacey’s water broke.
Keeley sat next to her sister staring down at the babies in her arms. A miracle. Lacey glanced over. “They are so beautiful,” she affirmed.
The little boy weighed in at five pounds, two ounces and began to whimper. Keeley placed him by Lacey’s breast, watching with love dancing in her eyes. As if his sister knew it was time to eat, she began to fuss, all four pounds and four ounces of her searching for milk. There was no embarrassment between sisters as Keeley aided the baby onto Lacey. “They’re going to need to stay together for a while,” Keeley pointed out.
“So, you temporarily live with us,” Lacey answered. “Not like we don’t have enough room.”
“Do you think E and Tar will be okay with that?”
“Okay with what?” E inquired as both men walked in.
Keeley shook her head as she coiled her arm around Tar’s waist. “It’s like you know I’m talking about you.”
He shot her a level gaze. “I do.”
Lacey giggled. “E does too.”
“That’s ‘cause you live right here, Sweetness.” He tapped his heart.
“See, he’s even romantic,” she sighed.
*****
One month later
Tristan and Esmé were growing just fine. Loved and cared for by two sets of adoring parents. They called a family meeting, so everyone was there for the special day. Keeley couldn’t help but be amazed at how much they’d grown in such a short time. Nik and Aimee were there with their son, Jax. Alex and Sofie with Ari and Peyton. Mitch stood to the side with his arm around Shelby. And Chase had his hand on Cole’s shoulder.
They all gathered to learn who Tristan and Esmé’s parents were. Every scenario was discussed tearfully and thoroughly. Neither Lacey and E nor Tar and Keeley would let biology separate the bond that was forged. They were here for each other in love, support, loyalty, no matter what that little piece of paper revealed.
Lacey opened the envelope but didn’t read it out loud. She let E, Tar and Keeley lean over to see for themselves. Keeley kissed the downy cheek of Tristan and placed him in his father’s arms. Lacey did the same with Esmé. They all hugged, and it was Cole who spoke up first. “They look just like their daddy.”
Ari studied the scene in front of her, angling her head for a better look. Then she saw what he was talking about. “Oh,” she gasped.
Sofie nodded and grabbed her daughter’s hand. “You see it now.”
“We already knew,” Nik announced with his arm around Aimee as she held their son.
Alex pulled out the birth certificate
s. “Let’s officially give them their surname.”
Keeley handed the pen to Lacey. “You get the honors,” she whispered, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
But Lacey snatched her hand forward. “We do this together.”
And there on the dotted line, making it legal, was what they all already knew.
Tristan Strand and Esmé McNeil were not only the most adored children by their parents, but a miracle to this ever-growing family. A family, who once they claimed somebody as theirs, blood or not, it was fully and unconditionally.
Tar gazed into his wife’s eyes knowing he was home.
Keeley stood on her tip-toes and sealed it with a kiss.
The End
Playlist
Hard Love – NEEDTOBREATHE
Soldiers - Otherwise
Raise Hell – Dorothy
If Only For Now – Pop Evil
Footsteps (Go Higher) – Pop Evil
Wolf – Highly Suspect
Prayers For The Damned – Sixx:A.M.
Big Bad Wolf – In This Moment
Animal – Badflower
Fallen Angel – Three Days Grace
I Was Made For Lovin’ You – Kiss
Bad Things – Jace Everett
I’ll Follow You – Shinedown
Arms Wide Open – Creed
This Little Light Of Mine – Bruce Springsteen
Listen here
A
Special Note
Dear Reader,
Please consider leaving a review. I’m not only an author but an avid reader as well. I love hearing about new authors to read. Word of mouth is powerful, hence reviews. Think of it as a way to reach book friends you haven’t met yet. Leaving your review helps fellow readers find new books to love, and helps the authors who write them. Win-win! So please, leave one on Amazon and/or Goodreads.
Thank you,
Lora Ann
About Author Lora Ann
Lora is a Missouri native who relocated to California as a teen. She spent several years as an international flight attendant for a major airline before taking on her greatest job ever, a stay-at-home mom. Now she resides in Kentucky with her family and has taken on her newest adventure, writing.
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EXILE by Mason Sabre
Amazon US - http://amzn.to/2j4O2DY
Amazon UK - http://amzn.to/2iRiEJv
Mason Sabre’s UK Amazon Page - https://www.amazon.co.uk/Mason-Sabre/e/B00NMWQW14/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1488989447&sr=8-2-ent
Mason Sabre’s US Amazon Page - https://www.amazon.com/Mason-Sabre/e/B00NMWQW14/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1488989521&sr=8-2-ent
Chapter One
Stephen
Stephen Davies.
Stephen …
Davies …
He said his name in his head slowly. Just an echo of who he used to be.
Nicholas Mason.
It didn’t quite have the same ring, and its very presence came with a weight too heavy in Stephen’s heart. He cast his eyes back to the window, staring at the pitiful image of his reflection.
It was dark outside. The streetlights sped along in a blur of colour—one bright yellow line of nothingness. He tried to focus but was unable to keep up with the images as they sped by.
Reflected in the glass in front of him were his many companions—nine of them—prisoners, just like him. All heading to the same unknown, merciless place. Stephen had as little desire to speak to the other prisoners as they did to appreciate the beauty they were missing beyond the confines of the bus.
Destination Exile—execution and the main parade of yet another Other dead for the Humans to drink, cheer and relish in their own sickening Humanity.
Such a feast for them.
Stephen clenched his jaw and rested his shackled hands on his knees as visions of his blazing body filtered into his mind again. God, how he hoped that when he was executed, the stench of his burning flesh would remain in their nasal cavities for days and that the image of his guts and intestines pouring out would stay in their minds for years to come. The wondrous mental impressions of Stephen Davies.
He tsked in his mind. No, not Stephen Davies … Nick Mason. He hadn’t yet had time to become accustomed to his new identity—not that he ever would. His father’s vain attempt to save his life. What a fuck-up that had turned out to be.
Stephen tried not to feel pity for himself, or even anger at being boarded onto this bus with Others such as these. He was not like them. He didn’t belong here.
His name did appear on the execution warrant—that much was true—but the rest … it was just bullshit. He was not a criminal. His only ‘sin’ was sacrifice. His muscles bunched under his shirt as he balled his hands into fists and pulled the silver chains encircling his wrists taut. The silver seared his skin, leaving marks as if he had just been branded with hot iron.
Sweat beaded along his forehead and ran down the nape of his neck. It left a cold trail under his collar, a sliver of a worm travelling down his back. Fire raged underneath his skin at the injustice of all of this. Angry red welts puckered on the skin of his wrists where the binds held him tight. Pain met fury under his flesh, sending his tiger back into his cage. Now was not the time to shift. He tried to keep his legs as still as possible, a vain attempt to ease the pain in his ankles as the negligent driver sped along and managed to hit every fucking bump in the road, each one of them jarring, causing the silver to bite a little deeper. The bus rattled and lurched again. Moans and cries rang out from some of the others. The driver smirked, taking great pleasure in the pain he was causing. Fuck, he really hated Humans.
Hours rolled by on the tedious and drawn out journey, and the only thing that Stephen had to occupy his mind was the view outside the window. It had grown darker now, even the lights had vanished. Eternal darkness lay out there. How much farther was it to their destination? He wasn’t privy to that information anymore.
Oh, how the mighty had fallen.
He almost laughed at his predicament. If Cade could only see him now …
Fuck no.
Cade would fucking die trying to save him if he knew. Same went for Raven—of course, that was after he had laughed at him and downed a shot. Just the day before, Stephen had been at the top of their society, the leader in his own domain. He controlled and commanded. Now? Nothing. Just like the rest of them. No better than an insect germinating in a rotting world.
These fellow passengers were not his equals. He was not like them. Yes, they had started their journey on this bus with him, but they had been loud, brash, uneducated strays. They yelled their demands at the unsympathetic driver and guards, doing nothing more than inciting gleeful laughter and initiating random beatings. The hours had broken them all, one by one. Humans—the weaker of the species—yet here they were, controlling powerful beings such as Others, holding all the power. Armed to the teeth, they used chains and rods to enforce submission. Each of Stephen’s companions now stared out with the same expressionless face.
Splatters of blood and other bodily fluids marred the floor, adding to the stains that had been painted there during earlier ‘first class’ transportation services such as this. Stephen pitched forward as the bus came to a stop in the same jerky manner that he was becoming accustomed to. Their ‘professional chauffeur’, with his overgrown belly, sat close enough to the steering wheel that it pressed into the rolls of fat, just so that his pudgy arms could reach. He hit a button and the hydraulics hissed into life. The door slid open, and the overweight driver slipped off his seat, wheezing, a cigarette nestled between his lips. A joke passed between him and the guards, and he coughed out a raspy laugh. Maybe death would come swiftly for him in the next decade, Stephen thought.
The driver paused at the anchor to which all the chains were attached. With a malevolent grin, he gave it a violent tug before checking it was still secured into place. Winces and groans echoed around the confines of the bus as limbs were pulled to awkward positions and the metal gouged and scorched flesh. Stephen gritted his teeth as it seared his skin, but remained silent. The driver laughed as he disembarked the bus. Images of the driver’s petrified face and the sound of his death cries flashed through Stephen’s mind as he started to imagine escaping his bonds and getting his hands on the fat piece of shit.
A Human boarded the bus, a vicious beast. Tall, bulky and muscled. He held his shoulders back, chest pushed out, gun in his hand at the ready, trying to make himself look as intimidating as possible. Stephen may have laughed if he were not restrained in his seat. He didn’t fear being beaten, but the silver he was chained to meant his system was weaker, which portended slower healing from any serious damage that might be caused. Stephen had to keep his target in sight. His aim was to escape—that would not be possible if he let himself get beaten to the point he would miss the opportunity of escape should it present itself.
The Human’s heavy footsteps echoed through the silence, every head lowering for fear of some sort of reprisal. Stephen reluctantly bowed his head, playing possum.
A second man boarded the bus and came to stand next to Stephen, his gaze boring into the back of Stephen’s head. No fucking Human ever dared to stand this close to him. Stephen fought the urge to look up and make eye contact—Stephen Davies bowed down to no one—but knew this was one time he had to stifle his pride if he were to get out of this alive.
The stench of fear dripped off him—even though Stephen was shackled. He wondered what the man would do if he knew who the shifter next to him really was. He was already nearly pissing his pants. If Stephen were to sneeze, it was very likely he might just suffer the indecency of losing control of his bladder. Of course, Stephen would pay dearly for that accident. God forbid the Human experienced any humiliation. Fear was a powerful tool that gave strength to the weakest of beings, Stephen had learned.
Against his own egotistical urges, Stephen stared down at his scuffed boots. He didn’t react when the Human grabbed his arm, even though the feel of his sweaty palm against Stephen’s bare skin made the corner of his mouth twitch in disgust.
