Thinking about it made me cradle my belly protectively.
Atticus faced forward, the firelight outlining his handsome face. “The man who offered her silver coins for sex returned. I confronted him, but he frightened me. Not just the demonic tattoo on his neck but his black eyes. They were soulless, and he looked at me like a hungry cat looks at a mouse before he eats it. One evening, I came home late and discovered everyone in that village dead. Every man, every woman, every child. They were all laid out in the open by the torches.”
My jaw slackened. “What?”
“He killed them all, including Matilda… and my unborn child.” Atticus briefly closed his eyes as he recounted what musthave been the worst night of his life. “She was as far along as you are now. When I found her that way, I lost my mind. She was stretched across a barroom table by the fireplace. I felt her belly, hoping that the baby might be alive, but even if it was, I wouldn’t have had the courage to do anything about it.” Atticus sighed. “I shouldn’t tell you such dark stories.”
I put my feet down and scooted beside him. Although three thousand years had passed, tears glimmered in his eyes. It moved me, and I held his hand.
“I caught him sitting at his usual table with a goblet in front of him. He said it was filled with her blood and it tasted sweet.”
“How barbaric. Atticus, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t understand what he was until years later. He laid waste to everyone in the village and blamed it on me. He promised that I would live out the rest of my worthless days with the guilt of what I’d done. I stabbed him, but he laughed. Then he bit my neck and drained me until I was too weak to fight.”
I squeezed his hand. “Your maker?”
“No. After finishing his drink, he strolled out the door. Four years later, I met another man like him. Same eyes, same stoic countenance, same fangs. But it wasn’t him. Back then, there were no Breed laws. Some revealed themselves to humans, others didn’t. He wanted to know why I had so many questions, so I told him my story. I offered to pay him or be his servant if he would hunt down Matilda’s killer.”
“Did he?”
Atticus focused on my lips. “No, my lady. He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse: A lifetime to hunt down my own enemy. To have the strength to fight him. To make him pay for his crimes. My maker was a decent man, but he lived in a coven. They banded together for protection and traveled as a group. Once I got through the bloodlust stage, he gave me the choice ofstaying with them or hunting my enemy. I stayed for a few years while learning how to use my new gifts.”
“Did you ever find the killer?”
His fangs elongated. “I wasted hundreds of years searching before I realized I would never find him. The world was too big, and traveling took forever. I quit holding on to the hate. It ruined me.” His eyes flicked down to my belly. “But I thought about the baby for years, even after I’d accepted Matilda’s death. She had a short life, but my child never had a chance. We had options even back then, but we wanted that baby. I gave up everything to avenge her death, but I don’t regret my decision. I’ve had many adventures, and I only used my wrath on men who deserved it.” Atticus shut his eyes. “All the generations that could have come from me. All that loss just because of one egotistical Vampire who was rejected in a tavern.”
I nestled against him. “You must think I’m an awful person for considering adoption.”
He placed his hand on my belly, and the baby moved. “Like I said before, you’re a woman who has a right to her decisions. Should you choose to give this baby up, I’ll make sure it has what it needs for all its days.”
My breath hitched. “You would do that?”
He moved his hand lower. “I think before you make any decision, you need to come to terms with your feelings. I see myself in you. A disconnect. It’s a defense mechanism I know all too well.” His voice drew closer. “What they did to you was wrong, but it wasn’t your fault.”
We moved into an embrace that felt so natural, and Atticus rested his chin on top of my head. It was nice to be held and feel close to someone. Poor Atticus. It pained me to think of his rough beginnings. Mine paled in comparison.
“I’m sorry about your family,” I said against his chest. “And I’m sorry I’ve judged you so harshly.”
“I’m not sinless, but I’ve done my best to protect the innocent.” When he stroked his fingers in a slow circle on my lower belly, the kicking ceased.
Suddenly his touch hit me in the most unexpected way. I hadn’t been stroked intimately by a man in so long that my hormones shot off preliminary fireworks.
What is wrong with me? He just told me the most tragic story of his life, and all I can think about is him sliding his hand inside my panties.
Searching for a distraction, I switched topics. “Have you ever made a youngling?”
“What brought that question up?”
“Well, you obviously can’t have children, but don’t Vampires consider their younglings progeny? Your blood makes them immortal.”
His pulse jumped.
I leaned back, wondering if I’d struck a nerve. “I’m prying too much into your personal life tonight.”
“No, it’s not you.” He gave a hollow smile while staring at the fire. “No one ever asked out of genuine interest. Only enemies who wanted to make sure I wouldn’t have younglings coming after them.” He put his hand back on my belly as if it belonged there. “I once turned a man in my eight hundredth year. Traveling alone in those days was an arduous experience, and companions offered protection. But I did a poor job teaching my youngling how to control his bloodlust. An elder found him draining three humans by the water. This was during the Roman Empire when we lived in Rome. Vampire elders passed judgment on crimes to keep us under control.”
“You lived in Rome?” My head was spinning with questions about all the great leaders I’d read about.
