Eclipsed by Midnight (19 page)

“Looking at your boys, I’d say otherwise.” It was true. She needs not to self-doubt. Her track record is impeccable.

“Boys I raised in another life. Goddess help me, what are we going to do!” She frustratingly bangs her head back on the headboard.

“First, we will refrain from self-harm. Second, we will raise this miracle together, the best we can.” My fingers sneak under the blankets to wrap around her slender calf.

“You want to keep it?” Her forehead wrinkles as her eyes search for mine.

“How could you not?” I gasp, shocked and a tad offended that she’d ever consider anything else.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want it. I just have a hard time reading you on these things.” Her meekness is another blow to the gut.

Yanking her back down, I cover her once more with my body, dominating her with my form. Eye for eye, nose for nose, lips to lips, I breathe, “Read this loud and clear, we are having a baby together. It is a part of you and me, and I couldn’t be happier. Scared? Of course, I am male enough to admit that. But never doubt my intentions again.”

She nods in understanding and dampness claims her eyes once more. “We are having a baby?” She sniffs, her brilliant green eyes seeking validation and comfort as her vulnerability lies before me.

“Yes, we are,” I affirm her on as many levels as possible.

Chapter 12

“It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light.”

~Aristotle Onassis

Sasha

Sitting around the dining table in a symphony of clinking of glasses, scraping of forks and contended grunts upon inhalation of Molly’s gourmet sustenance, an odd comfort is found in simply being as a family. Even Niall showed for breakfast and is now chatting excitedly with the twins, their apparent night out on the town formulating an intense bond from the wisp of novel introductions. All parties involved assured me profusely that nothing had gone awry, but I didn’t believe it for a second.

Tristan and Niall’s reputations alone preceded them, and I am all too aware of how my boys are now turning into men. All five of them smelt guilty upon my inquisitions, and the fading bruises on their faces said enough, but I didn’t push the matter. Oddly, Niall has suddenly filled a gap that neither Etienne nor I could manage, a gap their father left years ago that a mother cannot fill. I am happy for them, really, but subsequently sad in a sense. And now I am knocked up with another surprise bundle, much like the first time, by a man who is scared shitless yet determined, much like the first time as well. Oh boy. I need Ang, I need to just sit and talk it out with her. But I refuse to interrupt her vacation. She’s called in a few times to check on us, always the caretaker when she should be selfishly focused on her own. Each time, I have rushed her off the line and back to her family. They need her most right now. I can handle this like a big girl.

Christian is holding up all right but she isn’t sure if he can manage a few more weeks abroad, but he is hell-bent on trying. I told her to find a beautiful beach and just hang out there until it is time to come home, but Christian has gotten a second wind and a mighty strong bug about seeing as much as he can. Sadness eats away at me as I contemplate his new vigor possibly being the surge. People will wake up from a damn near comatose state, sit up in bed like nothing happened, and interact with their loved ones for a few days or even a week then bam—celestial discharge.

“Why the sullen face, me wee lass?” Niall breaks me from my internal rattling.

“What? Oh, just hoping Ang and the family are doing okay.” He nods in understanding as the twins’ shoulders stoop a bit before they resume whatever it is they were engrossed in. Aiden’s energy seems conflicted about something as well, but I let it go. Now is not the time to prod as much as I want to.

Erik casually peers over the top of his newspaper at Etienne, who is typing away on his phone, most likely taking care of some official business matter or another. “Yo, boss, don’t forget your parents and dinner.” Boom, fucker drops a bomb like that as if it were nothing.

“Hold the phone. What the hell? When was this decided?” I ask in surprise. I am in no hurry to be around the lie detector right now when we haven’t even agreed on when to tell those closest to us about the bun. It’s kinda hard to pinpoint that when I’ll be carrying it for so long, like a damn elephant. And there might still be rogues out there trying to kidnap me. You know, another day in paradise.

“Few days ago,” Erik mumbles and then proceeds to ignore me for the political page in an irritated rustling of paper.

That’s it. I need some air. I need to breathe. I can’t fucking breathe. We finally get one semi-peaceful meal together as a family with everyone in good spirits and now that has been shaken. I am still expected to hide my powers from the living, breathing, and infallible lie-detecting queen, a bun, and newly embellished powers I haven’t even played with to understand. They could be nothing, or they could be harder to wield.

“Sasha?” Etienne questions in a deep and gravely tone, a thick brow raising my way over the top of the phone pressed to his face.

“I’m fine.” Ignoring him, I continue on in my meal, reaching for generous seconds. Not because I feel like I need to eat for two, but because I will be heading straight to the warehouse. Too many sets of eyes track me, questioning the validity of my statement.

“Seriously, all is good.” I wave them off and all but lick my plate clean in a hurry.

Making a mental note to stash the leftovers of my favorite dishes for myself, I push back from the table and head to change my clothes. Momma can’t kick anyone’s ass very comfortably in these jeans and ankle boots. Thankfully, my family pays me no mind as I disappear.

As my leather pants slide into place, my mate’s presence registers, making the closet feel smaller in an instant. “You are not training.” It wasn’t a question or start to a communicative discussion.

“How about you start over instead of telling me what I am or am not going to do? How bout’ a ‘babe, I don’t think that it’s safe for you to train’ or something to that effect?” This guy better not try me right now.

“Fine, what you said.” His sexy lips press together hard as his jaw ticks.

“Lil, I am pregnant, not crippled. And I doubt any of them will be able to get close enough to land a shot.” My arms cross tightly over my chest.

“And they won’t get the opportunity to try.” He growls, his slicked back hair adding to his intensity.

“Don’t. I am going and that is that. If I stay here another minute, I might vibrate right out of my skin.” That is truer than I care to admit.

“Fine, at least consider telling those you spar with about your condition.”

“It is not a condition and no, because then they will go easy on me.” I slip the soft, bunched cotton in my hand over my head and roll my long-sleeve shirt down over my figure.

“Then let’s go down to our dungeon and have a session,” he pleads as his eyes roam my body.

“No, I need to throw my power around and get a feel for it. It has vastly expanded and I have to understand it before I can control it. We already agreed that we didn’t want your parents knowing about any of this yet.” My hand sweeps across my belly on its own accord before I realize. My need to protect what is there is fierce, even if I still waver on the fence a bit.

“No, not until I can figure out what is going on within the court,” he agrees as his eyes track my hands and the lines deepen in his beautiful face.

“There ya go. I love you, Lil. It’s going to be okay.” Lifting up on combat-boot tipped toes, I peck him on the lips, smoothing away the heaviness building there.

“Well, I am coming with you then.” He decidedly backs up and bends to change his dress shoes.

“No, you have missed too much work already because of me. You have shit to do.”

“That is not for you to worry about.” His growly voice echoes up at me as he bends into the fold of clothes to produce his shit-kicking leather boots, reminiscent of what bikers wear. He looks good in whatever he puts on. I thought I liked the well-groomed ‘I’m going to conquer the world from my desk’ appeal best… until I saw him in his field gear. Fuck me. How does he expect me to concentrate looking like that?

“See, this is why I don’t tell you things and I just take care of it. I don’t need you rescuing me all the time.” I huff, tired of being treated like glass.

He quickly steps into me, hand on the base of my neck, asserting his control instantly. I can’t help but relax back into it. As much as it kills me to admit, I love what I find in surrendering my hardheaded ways to his dominating force.

“This isn’t about a pissing race or however you say it—this is about me protecting what is mine. That is my job. It is not your job to ‘take care of it,’ especially on your own. We do this together or not at all.” His close proximity causes my chest to flush.

“Well, after you then.” I wink, the brat in me satisfied.

His eyes intensely search my face before his lips crash down into mine, his hold tightening. My belly heats as electricity travels down my thighs, making me quiver. He swallows the moans now reverently escaping my throat as my body sways. A deep, baritone resonance climbs up from his depths as he rips his mouth away from mine and licks his lips, leaving me gasping for more.

“No, mon amour, after you.” He grins, satisfied with the state he has quickly baited me into.

“Fucker,” I breathe, pissed at being left hot and bothered. His grip tightens in warning, and I whimper instantly. “Sorry, Lil.” He sighs and lets me go, stepping aside so that I can lead the way.

∞

Sizing up my opponent, I tilt my head to the side and crack my neck as my senses travel out and around. Closing my eyes, I use my breath to focus and allow the elements to freely travel around and through me like a never-ending river. When I feel their power swell, my eyes flash open, ready.

Maurizio deepens his stance as Inessa patiently leans back against the wall behind him with one foot braced on the cement; hands carelessly playing with one of her deadly knives. Etienne stalks up and down the arena behind me like a pissed-off predator, clearly unhappy as his sour mood notably drops the temperature around us. Inessa’s nieces, Vlad, Erik, Niall, my boys, and a few others anxiously crowd the perimeter up top. I didn’t want the boys to come, fought them on it, but once they saw me in my leathers, they knew what I was off to do and there was no convincing them otherwise. They were going to come whether I wanted them to or not, and Niall made it quite clear he’d help them.

“Come on, princess.” Maurizio attempts to jab me into starting already. Inwardly, I cringe, but outwardly, I hold statue still.

Another surge passes through me, and I use it to run full force at him. Which is probably laughable to some because he quickly meets my slow ass head-on. Maurizio doesn’t waste time as he throws a lethal cross hook. Instantly blocking him, I follow through with an upper cut, front-kick combo that propels him across the pit, landing him against the wall with a sickening thud. Bracing for him to quickly jump to, my heart freezes as I realize that something is wrong. His eyes glass over as his body slumps to the ground and doesn’t move. Horror and panic consume me as I race to him. In my need to get to the broken body, my super transport mode kicks in without my permission and I am instantly kneeling by his side. Assessing his injuries, the blood trickling from the back of his head has my fingers prying opening his eyes and launching into a neurological exam. Erik jumps down into the pit as Inessa and Etienne join me and the others circle above, waiting for answers.

“Erik, shine your phones flashlight for me.” He quickly whips it out and much to my dismay, Maurizio’s pupils don’t react. Motherfucker. Without wasting time, I plunge my fangs into my wrist and drip my blood into Maurizio’s lifeless, slacked jaw. His color is fading fast even though his heart still weakly beats. Etienne protectively growls in a painful manner as my blood goes to another. It is a sacred act that is unbearable for him, but this is for one of our own, he will get over it.

“Fuck, Sasha! Is that necessary?” he possessively cries.

Ignoring him, I close my wrist after I am satisfied. Maurizio doesn’t swallow or respond. Inessa and Erik begin to quicken their pace in unease but allow me the space to work. I can do this. Damien taught me the basics. Centering my hands over Maurizio’s chest, I focus everything I’ve got on his fluttering heart. Power swells around me and gentle vibrations trundle out from under us as I focus on picturing Maurizio’s insides on a cellular level. Steadying his heart as best as I can, my heat-radiating hands move the projecting magic up his body to his head. That is where I find the damage. Burst cells and capillaries leaking blood in a hemorrhagic fashion into the tissue. It’s weird. Through my gift I can see it, picture it quite clearly even though I am not directly looking at it. Goddess, there is so much blood. Clamping my eyes shut, I imagine my power moving through the broken vessels and forcing the walls to knit back together. I call to the clotting factors in his blood to slow the bleeding and to the physiological components within the vessel walls themselves, imagining them pulling back together and sealing shut, returning to their natural state. His head begins to feel hot under my hands as I work. Disregarding it, I search every millimeter of his head and neck, mending anything I can find. Time slowly passes as I work, but the amount of time needed doesn’t matter. I will do this for him. My breathing labors as the magic channels through me, depleting my body.

Contented that the immediate dangers are rectified, I shake off my dizziness and move back to the clot in his head from the initial point of impact. Pulling hard on the elements around me, I tell his cells to absorb the coagulated mess now taking up space and limiting his function. His body pushes back, not understanding how to do it on the rapid pace I am demanding. Diving back in, I lead by example and use my magic to shift the hemorrhage and force his body to break it down and reabsorb it.

After struggling, the cellular resistance slowly gives way to compliance. Soon, the injury is gone and all layers of tissue and brain matter are returned back to normal. Fearful that it is my imagination or that I missed something critical, I start at the top and begin to work my way down, sifting through every inch of him, invading him with my power, looking to fix whatever I can. His body begins to quake under my touch as a cough and gagging sound resonates from somewhere in the distance, but I continue on. Concern drives my gliding hands slowly down his body. They only stop when an iron grip clamps down on my wrists and my eyes flash open.

Looking about in confusion, I realize my hands are poised over his lower abdomen, a bit too close to a region that most definitely was not injured. Maurizio’s hands pull me up higher, back to his chest before he lets go and a wracking coughs takes him over. I back up on my heels to give him space as he slowly sits up like a drunken sloth. Relief washes over the group and for the first time, they all begin to talk at once, sounds I drown out as I watch my patient carefully. Maurizio scrubs meaty palms over his face, trying to orient himself.