Mother May I (Knight Games Book 4) (26 page)

“That’s the thing. We don’t know for sure he or she would be human entirely, do we? I have your blood in my veins.” I tangled my fingers together. “Honestly, we don’t even know if it will work. So much of our relationship is taking risks. Trying things. Trusting fate. Playing the odds.”

“There are six in here.”

“In for a penny, in for a pound.” I giggled nervously.

Rick turned his back on me and walked to the bed. I couldn’t see what he was doing, but I heard the little drawer in the bedside table open. The box rattled. The drawer shut again. Well, he knew they existed. We could keep them there and someday in the future, maybe Rick would come around to the idea.

He turned back to me, giving me a clear view of the table. One of the candles rose from a brass holder I’d kept in the drawer.

“Will you do the honors?” he said, motioning toward the wick. “I don’t want to have to waste time retrieving a lighter from the kitchen.”

My heart leaped. With a strong breath of air, I ignited the wick.

He strode toward me, a cloud of desire darkening his irises. “Do we have to wait until it burns all the way down?”

“Hell no.” I reached for his belt and pulled it from his pants. “We just have to still be doing it when it gets there.”

“Good.” He captured my face in his hands and melded his mouth to mine. I returned the kiss with long strokes of my tongue, the feel of his hands unbuttoning the last of my dress driving me mad with desire. My dress fell from my shoulders and pooled around my ankles, leaving me in a white lace bra set and garters. When I moved to kick off my heels, he grabbed my hip.

“Leave them on,” he said with a grin.

I shook my head. “My feet hurt from dancing all night.”

“So let’s get you off them.” In one smooth jerk, my panties went flying in pieces across the room. He wrapped his hands around my waist and lifted me until I was perched on top of the dresser with his chest between my knees.

“Better?” he whispered. Soft, warm kisses trailed down from my navel.

“Not quite yet,” I whispered. I leaned back and spread my knees wider.

His lips grazed my inner thigh and kept moving south.

“Much better,” I mumbled.

* * * * *

It was almost sunrise when I finally closed my eyes, soaking up the blissful, sleepy state Rick left me in. The weight of his body shifted above me, and his teeth grazed my neck.

“Wake up,
mi cielo
,” he whispered into my ear. “The candle isn’t finished and neither am I.”

His teeth struck my jugular, and the rhythm of his swallowing revived me. I repositioned myself and bit the wrist he offered. As his blood flowed over my tongue, I bucked under him from the taste of it, and he responded in kind, entering me again.

I watched the wax drip languidly down the taper of my making and thought,
Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.

Chapter 33

Twenty-Eight Seconds

Twenty-two months later…

I
slipped inside through the door from the garage, closing it quietly behind me. Rick looked up from his seat at the island, a parenting magazine open on the counter. He smiled at me, and I noticed he had what looked like pureed peas in his hair. At least I hoped it was pureed peas.

“How was work?” he whispered.

“Good. Normal.” I pointed at the ceiling.

“Napping,” he said.

Our son, Lucas, was a miracle and, so far, brilliantly normal. A blessing in every way. I loved him with everything in me, but he rarely slept and time alone with Rick had become an unusual privilege.

“Hurry,” I said, stripping off my scrubs. I was naked in less than thirty seconds.

Rick was slower to undress.

“What’s wrong?”

“Tired.”

“You’re never tired!” I said, helping him with his shirt.

He shrugged, slightly offended.

“What is this? Applesauce?” I asked as I removed his pants.

“New organic chicken pot pie recipe,” he said.

I smelled it. The scent was intolerable, like a cross between vomit and retirement home. “You did a good job. Smells yummy.”

He pursed his lips at me. “I am wearing most of it. He thinks it is funny to throw it.”

“Did you have Poe—?”

“Do the open-up-baby-birdie trick? Yes. It didn’t work. He’s getting too smart for that.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” I knocked him to the carpet and straddled his hips. We didn’t bother with foreplay. I joined with him and got busy.

“You have blood in your hair,” he said with concern.

“Not mine. Gunshot wound.”

“Good.”

He rolled me onto my back. The carpet burned my skin but I didn’t complain. I pulled him closer.

Whaa. Whaaaaa.

We stopped, ears trained on the ceiling. The crying stopped.

“Hurry. Hurry,” I said.

He obeyed. It was magical… for twenty-eight seconds.

Whaaa. Whaaaa, whaaaa! Ma ma. Ma ma.

I rolled Rick over and pointed at the ceiling. “Did he?”

“I think he did.” Rick smiled.

Leaping off my husband, I tossed on my scrubs and took the stairs two by two. Lucas’s room was right next to ours. We’d painted the walls to look like a forest, and Rick had built his crib on a wide base with branches like a tree house.

My son had pulled himself up on his crib rail. He smiled his two-toothed smile and blinked massive blue eyes at me when I walked into his room.

“Ma ma ma,” he said.

“Where’s my little monkey?” I ran to his crib and lifted him out to blow raspberries on his stomach. Lucas burst into belly laughs.

I glanced back at Rick, who leaned in the doorway, beaming.

“I think he grew while I was at work,” I said, holding Lucas above my head and lowering him for loud smacking kisses that made him squeal.

“He grows every day.”

“You don’t think he’s growing too much, do you?”

“The doctor says he’s completely normal.”

“Yes, but do you think… you know… that he is? Completely normal.”

Rick shrugged. “What does normal mean anyway?”

“Right. As long as he’s healthy.” I sat Lucas on my hip and brought him over to Rick. “He’s so beautiful.” I kissed Rick on the cheek.

“You’re a natural at this,” Rick said, stroking back his son’s blond hair.

“I’m glad you think so.”

Rick waved at Lucas, opening and closing his fingers, and Lucas waved back, opening and closing his chubby hand.

“I’m
glad
you think so,” I repeated more slowly.

“Why are you saying the words like that?” he asked, getting greedy and pulling Lucas into his arms.

“Because we’re going to have another one.”

Rick’s face went stony, and I placed my hands under Lucas, afraid he might slip from my catatonic husband’s grip.

“Another one?”

“We did do the candle thing again,” I reminded him. I rearranged my scrubs to reveal the small rounded mound of my lower belly. “I’m about ten weeks, I think.”

Rick said nothing. He blinked at me. He wasn’t breathing. I reached out and shook his shoulder. “Are you okay? Is this… is this okay?” I whispered it, although I’m not sure why. Lucas could still hear me and was much too young to understand what I was saying.

A slow, broad smile bloomed across Rick’s face. “It is more than okay, Grateful. Two for two. Do you think we’ll end up with six?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Maybe. More if we have twins.”

His face paled. “Is that possible?”

I threaded my fingers into his. “Who knows? But let’s just start with two.”

He kissed me on the cheek and allowed me to lead him from the room. “We should call your father.”

“He’s coming tonight to babysit while we patrol. We’ll tell him then,” I said. “He’s going to flip.”

“
Mi ceilo?
” Rick stopped me in the hall.

“Yeah?”

He pulled Lucas and me into a hug, kissing me on the mouth. “I love you. I love our family.” He placed his hand on my lower belly.

“I love you too. I always have, and I always will.”

He touched his forehead to mine.

I was his witch and he was my caretaker, and we were happy forever after.

Epilogue

L
ucas sat up in his crib and whimpered quietly. He was supposed to be sleeping, but he wasn’t tired at all. In fact, he was rarely tired. Although he could tolerate lying in his crib sometimes, he didn’t need as much sleep as the adults in his life seemed to think he needed. Tonight, the room was dark, except for the moon that shown through the branches of the tree outside his window. That was the problem. The branches, along with the wind, cast strange shadows across his floor. He was afraid.

He’d made up his mind that
alone
was not what he wanted to be at the moment and took a deep breath, intending to cry. He stopped when a dark-haired woman walked out of the shadows and placed her finger over her lips.

“Shhh. Hello, Lucas,” she said. She raised one hand, opening and closing her fingers.

Lucas opened and closed his hand too.

“Do you know who I am?” The woman reached inside his crib and pulled him into her arms. “I’m your grandma.”

Grandma. That was a funny word. “Me ma,” he repeated.

“Yes. Grandma. Now, I noticed you were scared, so I came.” She walked him over to the window and pointed outside. “Don’t be afraid of the wind. I am in the wind, and I will never blow you down.” She pointed at the tree. “Don’t be afraid of the tree. I live in the trees. If you are ever afraid, run straight to a tree, and I will protect you. Do you want to see what I can make the trees do?”

Lucas blinked at her and she smiled in response. With a wave of her hand, the branches of the tree began to grow and change, sprouting and blooming. The branches formed symbols.

“That’s your name,” she said. “That spells Lucas.” She kissed him on the cheek. “You are a darling, aren’t you?”

She walked him back to the center of the room and sat down with him on the rug. “Don’t be afraid of the dark. I am in the dark, and I will always watch over you.” She held out her hands and lit a tiny green ball of fire, then a blue, and a red, and juggled them between her palms.

Lucas laughed. He liked the grandma woman. One of the balls popped out of its orbit and landed on his nose. Only, it wasn’t fire when it hit his skin but a raindrop. Lucas laughed even louder.

“Shhh,” Grandma said. “We can’t wake your parents. They need their sleep.”

Lucas quieted down.

“I brought you someone to play with.” She beckoned with her finger and a dog crept from the shadow in the corner. “This is Bosco. He’s big but he will never hurt you.”

Bosco lowered his nose to sniff Lucas, who laughed and pulled Bosco’s ears. The big black hound licked the boy’s cheek and lay down, curling himself behind the boy’s back.

“There. See now. That’s nice.” Grandma scratched behind Bosco’s ears and kissed Lucas on the forehead. With a snap of her fingers, Bosco transformed into a smaller stuffed version of himself. “Bosco will stay with you when I can’t. He’ll watch over you and tell me if you need me. See, there’s never been a little boy like you before. Even I am not sure what the future holds for you. But no matter. Your grandma will be there for you, no matter what.”

Lucas hugged the stuffed dog around the neck and rubbed its velvet ears between his fingers. Grandma picked him up and put him and the stuffed dog back into the crib.

“I once told your mother she was my favorite.” She tapped Lucas on the nose. “Not anymore.” She backed away, toward the shadow in the corner of his room. “I must go now, but I’ll be back. I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

And she did. Forevermore.

***

D
on’t miss the next installment, LOGAN a Knight World novel. Sign up to learn more at
http://bit.ly/KnowJackNews .

L
ogan Valentine hates witches. After being drugged and tortured by one in the past, he’s sworn off magical types for good. Even when a certain redheaded witch plays the starring role in his hottest dreams, he vows to focus on running his restaurant and leading a normal human life.

Polina Innes thinks humans belong in the same category as dogs or pigs. The centuries old witch abhors cross-species romance and hates herself for fantasizing about the blond human she met helping a fellow witch last year. As her thoughts border on obsession, she becomes desperate to cure herself of her rogue desires using any means possible.

When Polina finds a love potion guaranteed to connect her with her soulmate, she’s sure it’s the answer to wiping Logan from her mind for good. Only, her plan backfires. One sip leads her to his door and unleashes an unwanted attraction that becomes increasingly impossible to deny.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

G
enevieve Jack grew up in a suburb of Chicago and attended a high school rumored to be haunted. She loves old cemeteries and enjoys a good ghost tour. Genevieve specializes in original, cross-genre stories with surprising twists. She lives in central Illinois with her husband, two children, and a Brittany named Riptide who holds down her feet while she writes.