“Does he need anything?” I ask Bellamy, wiping her tears as they track down her cheeks.
“He’s comfortable,” she tells me, giving me a smile that doesn’t come close to reaching her eyes, as if I can’t read it from a mile out. So brave. So independent. So fucking beautiful my body aches for her, even now. It’s the sort of ache that will never dwindle, it will only grow.
She’s trying to protect me and I fucking love her so goddamn much it infuriates me all the more. I am the one who is here to protect her. I am the one who needs to keep her safe, comfortable, and happy. She is more than my queen.
She is my home. My heart. My essence.
The reason I am no longer the beast but the man, husband, and father I was always destined to be. Even as I feel that starting to slip away from me. Even as I start to feel some of that old ice refreezing my insides.
“My sweetness, tell me what I can do.” I almost plead. I need a chore. Something big and arduous. Truthfully, I need to go for a run or fuck her hard. Tie her up and spank her and edge her with orgasms and stare into her eyes as I own every inch of her skin.
I need to burn this off. This pervasive, strangling energy. And those are the only two ways I know how to do it.
The only things waiting for me in my office are pictures I don’t want to see. I don’t want to see Desta’s bloody baby clothes or the blanket she was stolen in. I remember when our nanny changed her diaper and put her into that onesie. I remember that blanket hanging from the top part of the crib, a symbol of our family.
Then I remember finding our father bleeding out on the floor by her crib. I remember that crib being empty. I remember the screams and cries. The fear. The excruciating understanding that my baby sister was gone and that I might never see her again. That there was a very strong possibility someone killed her the way they did our father.
“Nothing beyond all that you’ve already done for me,” she asserts, a ferocity in her voice that demands I don’t question her. “This was bound to happen and he’s in good hands as you said.” She sits up straight and clears her throat. “He needs rest and, from what the doctor told me, won’t be awake likely untiltomorrow. Tonight I want to be with the children. I want to make junk food and watch a movie.”
I smirk, my eyebrows raising. “Junk food?”
“Chicken fingers, mac and cheese, and cookies. It’s Zayer’s favorite now too, not just mine, and even Sabrina will eat it without protest.”
I snicker. “Are you making all this?”
“I am,” she tells me in no uncertain terms. “The cooking and baking will be good for my soul and keep my mind occupied. I can’t fix my father. I can’t heal his mind or even his wrist. I can’t find your sister or put your mind at ease with that. There are far too many things beyond my control at the moment. But for now, we can have a special night with the children.”
She’s once again putting on a brave face, but does she still not know that her blue eyes hide nothing from me? There is so much sadness in her. But Bellamy doesn’t deal in sadness. Being eternally positive and optimistic is her currency. It’s how she operates, and all I can do is help her keep that going.
I extend my hand and help her stand. “Let’s do it then. Phaedra has already been asking if we can watch that ogre movie again.”
She snorts and rolls her eyes. “Of course she is. Because we’ve only seen it a dozen times.” She turns to her father’s sleeping form. “Good night, Dad. I’ll see you in the morning. I love you.” Bending over, she kisses his forehead and retakes my hand. “How can life be so beautiful and so shitty at the same time?”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing myself.” Then again, the only bright spot I’ve had in my life other than my children was when she walked into it. The moment I made Bellamy mine, I couldn’t help but question what I had done as horror swept through me.
I loved her. And part of me knew that by making her mine, I had sealed her fate the same as I had Nora’s.
Yes, her father was ill before I entered their lives, but not even a week after Bellamy marries me, he falls and breaks his wrist. Not even a week after our wedding, they discover the place my baby sister was taken to after she was kidnapped.
I believed we broke the curse. That our joined love was all it would take.
I would have sworn to it.
But now, not even two months after I felt its piercing talons unclench from my neck, I feel the curse’s suffocating weight more than ever. And for the first time, I think Rowan agrees with me.
Maybe there is no breaking it.
And if that’s the case, what does that mean for our future? For our children’s future?
Hints of the old darkness, that old crippling fear, have been seeping into my bones like a cancer, determined to take over every cell of my being. But I keep my mouth shut. I don’t mention a word, especially to Bellamy, and with any luck, I’ll be proven wrong and everything will turn out okay.
Bellamy and I wind our way through the palace down to the kitchen only to discover my three little monsters already there, their greedy hands shoved into a large bag of chocolate chips.
I curse under my breath in Latin and loudly clear my throat. I don’t have it in me to scold them or even punish them. They’re safe when they’re in front of me, and after everything we’ve endured today, I just want to see my children and my wife smile and be happy.
Three sets of eyes grow owl-wide, and their hands immediately fly away from the bag. Sabrina, who eternally has no shame, shoves the last chocolate chip she has in her hand into her mouth.
“They were out,” Phaedra explains innocently. “The bag was already open. We didn’t do that.”
