“Look at you,” she whispered, pulling him in to her breast, eyes soft and searching his features, as if she was committing every monstrous detail to memory. “Look at your itty-bitty horns.” She stroked a gentle finger over the two circular shapes on his skull from where his horns would eventually erupt. “You look just like your daddy.”
She accepted him. Even like this; exhausted and vulnerable, blood and birthing fluids covering the bed and their demon child, there was nothing but love in her voice as she greeted their newborn.
And he felt it too—their son. His cry cut off as he felt his mother’s warmth, black eyes staring up at her with bewilderment. As if he couldn’t quite comprehend that this was the world he’d been born into. That someone so pure and good was his mother.
Kain was only aware he was crying when his tears splattered on Selma’s shoulder. Wordlessly, he hugged her from behind and pressed his head to the side of hers, unwilling and unable to stop staring at the infant in her arms. His son.
“Come cut the umbilical cord, Your Majesty,” Dr. Asan called, his voice gentler than before.
Kain quickly wiped his eyes and nodded, easing Selma back against the cushions as she returned their child to the doctor. The baby began fussing immediately, annoyed at being separated from his mother.
In that, too, he was similar to his dad.
Kain’s hands shook as he cut the umbilical cord, but when the doctor then placed the baby in them, they stilled.
His son. He stared down at his baby, so tiny one of his hands could hold him safely. He still wrapped both around him and pulled him up to his chest, instincts hard-wired to keep him safe kicking in so fiercely it took his breath away.
“Welcome to the world, little one,” he whispered softly.
His son, still fussing at being separated from Selma, looked up at him with dark, serious eyes. His annoyed mews softened to coos, then stopped as he took in his father for the first time.
“I think he recognizes your voice,” Selma said. “Look how he’s staring up at you. That’s your daddy, baby.”
The sound of Selma speaking made the little one squark, then open his tiny mouth in an almighty bellow.
“Oof,” Kain said with a wince. “He recognizes yours too. All right, let’s get you back to your mother!”
Kain grimaced and hastily returned the baby to Selma’s chest. He kept fussing until she popped a nipple in his mouth. Then the angry wail cut off, swiftly replaced by immediate suckling as nursing instincts kicked in.
Selma smiled down at her baby, entranced. Kain couldn’t blame her; he was mesmerized by the sight of his son in his mate’s arms too.
He had a son. His beloved had birthed him a son. No matter how many times he returned to that baffling thought, it took his breath away.
“I’ll do anything for the two of you,” he said quietly. “Anything.”
His mate looked up at him, her expression soft. “You already have. Our son won’t know how lucky we are—he’ll grow up so safe and loved it’ll be the norm to him. But I’ll know. And I’ll never forget.” She reached out the hand not cradling their baby, inviting Kain into the sacred space of her maternal embrace.
There was not a power on this Earth strong enough to keep him away.
Groaning softly, Kain climbed into the still-slick bed and wrapped himself around Selma’s back. The primal scent of blood and life and her filled his senses, centered him. He looked over his mate’s shoulder at his son safely suckling from her breast, and a calm unlike any other washed over him. His son would know nothing but safety and love, but it wasn’t because of Kain, as his mate believed—it was because of her. She’d give their child the love Kain’s mother hadn’t been able to give him, and the war Kain had waged to ensure their son would grow up safe? It was because of her.
She was their reason. Their center. His soul.
* * *
Kain stayed until Selma had delivered the afterbirth. While the doctor checked her over to ensure everything was as it should be, he finally forced himself to leave, to send out the news that the queen had born him an heir.
He called Kesh first. Thomren second. Then Governor Maell. And finally, when he could put it off no longer, he went to his father.
As expected, Kirigan was in the library, the usual glass of amber liquor in his hand. But instead of being buried in crumbling texts, the ancient demon stood in front of the window, staring at the darkened sky beyond.
“Your grandson has been born.”
Kirigan exhaled softly. For several tense moments, that was the only sign he’d heard the news. Finally he said, “And the mother? Is she well?”
“Selma’s fine.”
His father’s only response was to take a swig from his glass.
