by Logan Fox
Her wild blue eyes dance over us, and then she’s gone, her skirt flaring how fast she bolts away.
Well, that answers that.
“Fuck, I’m cold. You want whiskey or coffee?” I shuffle around the granite countertop. “Or Irish coffee — best of both?”
Kane doesn’t answer. I fill up the coffee pot, moving awkwardly with my burned hand roughly bandaged in a strip of my dress, and watch him from the corner of my eye. He’s got that little bundle so tight against his chest, I’d be surprised if he hasn’t smothered her.
“Kane.”
Nothing. He’s staring down, eyes locked.
“Kane!”
His head shoots up. He blinks at me like he’s just woken from a deep sleep. “She’s not moving.”
Christ.
I grab two tumblers, Hunter’s best scotch — okay, all of Hunter’s scotch is the best — and slosh a few messy shots for us. I hurry around the countertop and I’m about to hand the glass to him when air moves behind me. Zee appears, a bundle of blankets in her arms. She drops them to the floor and then tosses one over Kane’s shoulders. I snag the one she tries to put over me, giving her a grudging nod.
Her eyes fix on the bundle in Kane’s arms.
He looks up at her with limpid eyes, and it feels as if someone stands on my heart with a boot and twists their heel.
I down my glass of scotch and consider downing Kane’s too.
Zee holds out her arms.
Kane blinks. A tear streaks down his cheek.
My throat closes, and I bite the inside of my lip so hard, I taste copper in my mouth.
Fuck, why? Why the hell couldn’t the kid have lived? Was it me? Was it because I wished so fucking hard I didn’t have to live with this — with a kid?
My eyes brim and I blink hard and fast to clear the tears. I have to be strong, even just for a moment.
Just until Hunter comes back.
But what if he doesn’t?
Wetness cools my cheek.
He will.
He must.
And if he doesn’t, then I’ll go look for him until I find him.
Dead or alive.
Oh God. I snatch Kane’s glass from the countertop and tip it down my throat, wishing the scorching liquid would encapsulate me completely.
Zee steps closer, hands still outraised.
“I—” Kane’s voice hitches. “There’s nothing you can—”
Zee scoops the baby from him, and Kane lets her take it. As if that baby was the only thing keeping him up, he slumps, barely catching himself against the closest bar stool. Then he glances at the empty scotch glass, and up at me with an almost comical plea in his eyes.
This time, I bring the bottle back with me. I chug some in Kane’s glass, and then some in mine. I keep my eyes on him, but I can see Zee in my peripheries with the bundle of dead baby.
I sit on a stool; I don’t think my legs can keep me up much longer.
Zee slides onto the stool beside Kane. She opens the bundle of blankets a little and peeks inside. Her face lights up.
Beside me, Kane’s glass rattles against the granite countertop.
A tiny fist shoots into the air, grasping, grasping,
My stomach flips over and, for a moment, I’m convinced I’m going to heave. Zee dips her face closer, and that little hand brushes her lips, her nose, her chin. She giggles, and the baby makes a strange cooing sound in return.
I glance at Kane.
He’s staring at Zee like he’s never seen her before.
Oh boy.
“I’m…I’m gonna wash up,” I say in a thick voice. I clear my throat, but it doesn’t really help. “I’ll bring you some of Hunter’s clothes.”
My voice hitches on Hunter’s name, and I go upstairs as fast as I can. Beside my throbbing hand, my belly has this insidious ache deep inside it. It worries me, especially because I feel wetness between my legs and I have a feeling it’s not me being horny for freedom.
As soon as I peel off my dress and look down, I really do feel like retching. My body’s pale and wasted. Blood between my legs. Fingerprints bruised onto my hips and breasts.
It takes all my energy to turn on the shower, but even then I just stand there and let the steam billow out to me, staring down at myself as a deep horror settles like ice in my stomach.
I can’t possibly survive this. I’m all full of adrenalin and scotch now, but what about an hour from now? Two?
My body weighs a ton, which is hilarious because it looks as if a gust of wind could knock me over.
I find my way into the shower, if only so I don’t have to feel that wetness on my cheeks anymore. But I just stand there, head bowed, and watch bloody filth swirl around the drain.
Until a pair of hands touch my shoulders.
I turn my head, and my knees sag when I see Hunter standing behind me.
He steps into the shower, fully clothed, propping me up as he presses his body against mine.
“I’ve got you,” he says in a hoarse voice. “I’ve got you.”
Chapter Seventy-Six
Hunter
As much as I want to take stock of Clover’s injuries — of mine — I know on some intrinsic level that she needs my strength more than my medical skills right now. Something has deflated her — probably a succession of things — and I know more than anything how easy it is to succumb to illness or injury if there’s no fight left in you.
I wash her with one hand, using the other to keep her propped against me so she doesn’t fall. Her head hangs, that glorious red hair of hers dark and sullen in its tangled curtain.
All this while desperately trying not to catalog all her bruises.
Her right hand is wrapped in a makeshift bandage. She weakly resists when I try to unwind it. Instead, I make sure she’s warm and clean, and bundle her in a robe I brought with me into the bathroom.
I want to get back downstairs. The scene I walked in on was disconcerting, to say the least.
Kane and Zee on the couch, him holding her so tightly it looked like she would break. They were both bundled in so many blankets, I could barely make out more than that.
I don’t know if Kane found his baby. If he did, and she’s not here…I won’t fool myself into thinking he’s a sane, rational person. Maybe he just needs the comfort of another human being…or maybe he needs something else. Something he told me Zee will never be ready to give.
I guide Clover down the stairs. Kane and Zee don’t look up. Kane’s shivering and Zee looks like she’s sleeping.
“You can go shower,” I say to Kane.
“Thanks,” he mutters. But he doesn’t move.
Jesus Christ.
I set Clover down in an armchair and hurry downstairs to my lab. I’m going to need more than just the first aid kit, I’m sure — I saw a nasty cut above Kane’s eyebrow, and there’s whatever’s wrong with Clover’s hand.
I’m about two feet away from the sofa, medical supplies in hand when I hear a strange sound. I stop in my tracks, and my eyes dart over to Kane and Zee’s intimate little bundle of blankets.
Is she crying?
I hurry around the front of the sofa, dropping everything I brought with me on the carpet.
My eyes widen of their own when I see a tiny, pale face peeking out from a mass of folded blankets.
That noise again. The kind babies make, I guess, but I’ve never really heard them.
Zee’s holding the baby.
No, not holding the baby. She’s trying to breastfeed it.
Kane reaches for her, but the movement looks resigned as if he’s tried to stop her before. Zee bats away his hand without taking her eyes off the child.
I glance over at Clover. As if she feels my eyes on her, she turns to look at me.
“Wh—No, it’s not…how…?”
We both turn back to Kane. He stares raptly at Zee’s breast. As if compelled, my eyes drop too.
I step closer, frowning. Another step.
�
��That can’t be possible,” I say, but it’s as my own voice comes from a thousand miles away.
“It’s a miracle,” Kane murmurs, stroking Zee’s head. “It’s a fucking miracle.”
In the creases of the baby’s suckling mouth are dots of pale, milky foam.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Clover
“Take her home with you.”
Everyone in the room looks up at the sound of my voice, but I keep my eyes fixed on that happy little baby.
“Clover…” Hunter says, stepping toward me as if he wants to lay a hand on my shoulder.
“No, I mean, it’s perfect.” Finally, I look up at him.
If there was even a hint of possessiveness in his eyes, regret, longing, anything…I would have retracted the offer.
Instead, I see only admiration. It makes me warm inside, and that brings on a pang of guilt so strong my mouth twists. “What?” I shrug. “I told you I never wanted kids.”
Hunter’s face solidifies. Fuck, maybe I should have let him keep thinking that I was doing this because I’m just such a dapper ole’ gal. But fuck it, he knows me. At least, he should know me. I’m narcissistic as fuck and selfish to boot. Where the hell could a baby possibly fit into my life?
Into our life?
Something squeezes my heart, and I force my eyes away from Hunter. I start unwrapping the crude, damp bandage around my hand and throw a meaningful glance toward the stuff he brought with him. “I’m no expert, but I’m thinking this’ll get infected soon.”
I look up at Hunter. He has his angry face on, but it melts away the instant he catches sight of my raw flesh.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he says, dropping to his knees in front of me. He fumbles to the side, sending medical apparatus and supplies rolling over the floor. “How the hell are you still standing?”
“Half a bottle of scotch,” I say happily.
He glances up at me, and then across at Kane and Zee. They’ve returned to their little oasis, seeming oblivious to us.
Hunter’s eyes pin me. “Then you shouldn’t be making big decisions right now. In the morning—”
“I could be dead,” I cut in coldly. “And then who’s gonna make the decision. You?” I snort. “Please.”
I stick out my hand since it looks like he’s forgotten about it. “I don’t think my skin’s supposed to be all sticky and shit.”
Hunter bows his head, tending to my wounds. But I can see his mouth is tight.
Did I misjudge earlier? Was he maybe still in shock?
“Did you want it?” I ask, and then wince when he begins cleaning my wound.
He’s finished tying the bandage before he replies. “I don’t think I was meant to have children.”
“Meant? You mean like fate and shit? Didn’t know you believed in that crap, Dr. Hill.”
His eyes flare as they latch onto mine. “It’s coincidences I don’t believe in.” He smooths a hand over my bandage, and I shiver at the thrill of pain that chases it. “You arriving in my clinic was no coincidence.”
I don’t know what to say. I don’t think I ever could, after a statement like that.
Because I know this moment was meant to be; whether by fate, or destiny, or an alignment of the goddamn stars. I actually couldn’t give a fuck which.
All I know right now is that I don’t ever want to run again. I’m sick of running, just like I’m sure Hunter’s sick of chasing.
As if reading my mind, Hunter gently takes hold of my left hand and brings it to his heart.
“Will you marry me, Clover Vos?”
I stare at him, and then lift my hand and cup his face. “On one condition,” I reply.
Hunter frowns and I see Kane and Zee looking up at us from my peripheries.
“Which is?” Hunter asks, watching me warily from the corner of his eye.
“You take that job on the Council, and you make sure shit like this never, ever happens again.”
He watches me for the longest time, face unreadable and a dark shadow over his eyes. “What if I fail?”
“You can’t fail, babe.” I stroke his cheek with my thumb, and give him a smile. “You’re Dr. Hunter fucking Hill.”
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Hunter
“Wait. Wait!” Alexa holds up a limp hand. “So you’re telling me, all this time, you two’ve been off in the Seychelles?”
I make certain not to look in Clover’s direction. She gave me several reasons not to lie to Alexa, but the last thing I want is my sister knowing about the evil that had been festering mere miles away from her home.
Everyone’s home.
“You don’t believe me?” I ask, taking a sip of wine.
Alexa shakes her head. “You haven’t taken a vacation in like two decades.” She points a knowing finger at me. “No need to be shy about holing up with your chick for a few months.” She shrugs and glances at Joshua who’s tentatively dabbing at the side of his mouth with a napkin. “Young love’s the fucking best.”
Zee makes an urgent sound in the back of her throat, and Alexa holds up her hands in mock surrender. “Sorry,” she murmurs, her eyes darting down to the bundle in Zee’s arms.
According to Kane, Zee refuses to let Mary leave her sight. She takes the baby everywhere and feeds it almost non-stop.
I spent a little time researching what we all thought was a miracle that day after we got back from the Church. Apparently, any woman can lactate at any time after puberty. All it takes, experts say, is a child latching onto the breast. Usually, however, it takes several attempts throughout the day and sometimes up to a week or two before milk is produced…but not always.
Not a miracle — just one in a million chance.
What is a miracle is how much weight Zee’s gained. Kane says she’s eating more than him. Already, her bones have melted into her flesh, and her face is rounder.
Even her cheeks are glowing.
She almost looks like she did the day she climbed onto the back of our truck, there at that filling station in downtown Mallhaven. Fresh-eyed, full of spirit. Ready to conquer the world.
“Seychelles,” Alexa mutters, fiddling with a pea. “I mean, Thailand would have been more realistic. Or Scotland.”
“Those are all places you want to go to, Lexi,” Joshua says, aiming a playful smile in her direction.
She swats his shoulder and looks away with a roll of her eyes.
I feel eyes on me and look up into Clover’s radiant gaze. She gives me a small smile, and her eyes dart to the kitchen before returning.
“Excuse me,” she murmurs most politely, dabbing her mouth with a napkin before rising and disappearing into the sitting room.
She’s wearing a slim fitting cobalt blue dress tonight — one I bought for her a few days ago for this dinner. Her hair is piled on her head in a mass of curls, a few bouncing down her open back as she sashays out of sight.
I barely wait longer than a few seconds before standing. I mutter something unintelligible and hurry after her.
She’s not in the living room.
I take the stairs two at a time and find her standing in the bedroom, facing the glass wall and staring out over the brooding forest.
When I sling my arms around her waist, she arches into me like a pleased cat. “I told you so,” she says, before spinning to face me. She cups a hand and flicks her fingertips. “Pay up.”
“Now?” My breath stirs a spiral of silky red curls dangling alongside her cheek, and I tuck it behind her ear. “We have guests down—”
She grabs my dick through my pants and makes a happy sound when she finds it already hardening. “Then I guess you’ll have to be quick.”
I back her up against the glass. My hands skim down her legs, hunting for the slit that ends above one knee. “What if I don’t want to be?”
She grins at me. “Then I guess they’ll be eating dessert alone.”
I yank up her dress to her hips and go to my knees in front of her. Sliding he
r one leg over my shoulder, I stare up as I glide my fingers along her inner thigh.
She’s not wearing any underwear.
“I hate panty-lines,” she says, with a knowing quirk to her lips. “Now eat up, Dr. Hill.”
I bite my lip, and then graze my teeth along her leg, taking my time to get close to her already wet cunt.
As soon as I taste her, everything else in the world fades away. She bucks against my mouth, forcing my tongue deep inside her as her nails click against the glass.
I could stay in this moment forever and never regret a single day.
But Clover’s tasked me with a duty I can’t neglect.
As much as I’d love to stay with her every minute of every day…I have a town to run. And, because of her, I’ll bleed myself dry to make sure not a trace of evil remains.
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Hunter
I tug at the wrist of my suit, making sure the cuff of my dress shirt aligns perfectly with the cashmere. When I lift a hand to knock, the door swings open.
Kane nods at me and then cocks his head in way of an invitation. I step into a bright, airy living area, open all the way to the kitchen on one side, and to a cozy family room on the other. Stairs separate the lower floor in two, and bare feet pad into view a second later.
“Your home is lovely,” I say.
“Keeps the rain off our heads,” Kane says dismissively, but with a touch of pride in his voice.
Zee stops in front of us, regarding me for a moment as if she wants to say something. Baby Mary is balanced on one hip, swaying as she makes a grab for Zee’s dress. But instead of speaking, Zee just smiles at me. The warmth in her eyes makes my heart clench too tight.
“Good to see you,” I say, tipping my head.
She shrugs, her smile turning impish, and walks past us and into the kitchen. I hear a kettle turn on, and Kane sweeps a hand after his wife and child.
