Aidon's hands were shaking when he reached for the water glass on my nightstand. His usually steady fingers were trembling just enough to make the surface ripple. He thought I was asleep. I’d fallen out shortly after the contractions stopped. Unfortunately, I didn’t stay asleep long these days. And now I was watching as my mate’s composure finally cracked. It wasn’t surprising after everything we'd been through. Lying there in our bed, watching him try to hold himself together while I recovered from yet another magical assault on our children. I’d never wanted to punch Lyra in her face more. My powerful mate was terrified of losing everything that mattered to him because of that witch.
"You don't have to hide what you're feeling," I said softly, not wanting to startle him but unable to pretend I was asleep any longer.
His shoulders sagged with relief as he turned to face me. "How long have you been awake?"
"Long enough." I patted the bed beside me. "Come here."
He settled next to me and wrapped an arm around me. When I reached for his free hand, his fingers immediately tangled with mine. He held on like I was his anchor in a storm.
"I keep thinking about what would have happened if Clio hadn't been able to stop the contractions," he admitted in a voice that was barely above a whisper. "If you'd given birth while those parasitic connections were still active, while Lyra could have forced you to manifest wherever she wanted..." He swallowed hard. "I would have lost all of you."
"But you didn't," I reminded him, squeezing his hand. "We're still here. Still fighting. Still driving you absolutely insane with our stubborn refusal to stay out of danger."
That earned me a ghost of a smile. "Your capacity for understatements never ceases to amaze me."
"It's one of my many charms." I shifted closer, or as close as my enormous belly would allow. "You want to know what I keep thinking about?"
"What?"
"How lucky these babies are going to be, having you as their father. Not because you're a god or because you can command shadows or rule the Underworld. Or because you give me mind-blowing orgasms. You love them so fiercely that it's actually making your hands shake." I brought his trembling fingers to my lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles. "Bad fathers don't lose sleep worrying about their children's future. They don't stand guard over their pregnant partners or pace holes in the floor when things go wrong."
Some of the tension finally left his shoulders. "I never expected to want this so much. I never dreamed of having children and a family. Or the domestic chaos that comes with it all. For centuries, I thought power and duty were enough."
"And now?"
"Now I'd trade every ounce of power I possess to guarantee you and our children live long, happy, completely boring lives." He leaned down to press his forehead against mine. "Which is probably not the most godlike sentiment, but there it is."
"I love you too," I said, because that's what he was really saying. "I wish I could say we were going to live completely boring lives, but I know better."
I was settling deeper into his arms when a strange tingling sensation began building in my belly. Initially, I thought one of the babies sat on an organ. That wasn’t it. It wasn’t the usual baby gymnastics or magical sparks I'd grown accustomed to. This was different entirely.
Damn. I braced myself for what was coming. I should have known I shouldn’t have relaxed. A strange tingling sensation began building in my belly. "Uh, guys?" I called out as warmth spread across my abdomen. "Something's happening."
Nina stopped reading her book and looked up. "Is it contractions? Should I get Clio?"
"No, this is different." I placed both hands on my belly as the sensation intensified. "I have no idea if it’s going to be bad, but I can feel all three of them concentrating."
My skin erupted in an ethereal luminescence that had nothing to do with good health or a decent concealer. We're talking full-on supernatural light show here. The kind that would make a rave jealous and probably get me committed if the wrong people saw it. It was as if someone had stuffed a disco ball inside my ribcage and hit the switch.
The light seeped through my flesh, turning each pore into a tiny beacon. My arms looked like stained glass windows with the sun blazing behind them. I half expected to hear a choir of angels or at least some overly dramatic movie soundtrack. Instead, I got the sound of my own ragged breathing.
Golden threads began emerging from somewhere deep in my core. That was Melaina's magic. It was warm and honey-thick as it spiraled upward. Electric blue followed, crackling with Thaniel's signature impatience. They snapped and sparked as they joined the golden weave. Not to be left out, Nyssa'sdeep purple ribbons undulated through the air like silk scarves in a gentle breeze. They wove between the gold and blue with serpentine grace, binding the chaos into something that resembled order.
The three powers danced together above my stomach, creating a tapestry that would have been breathtaking if it weren't currently defying everything I'd ever learned. They hovered there like luminous smoke. They were neither fully solid nor completely ethereal.
The whole spectacle cast rainbow shadows on the walls around me, painting everything in shifting hues. Somewhere in the back of my mind, past the awe was terror that Lyra was making her move. The fear immobilized me.
"Holy shit," Nina breathed as Jean-Marc and the others appeared in the doorway. "Are they projecting something?"
Seeing past my terror, I saw that the swirling lights were beginning to take shape. They were forming what looked suspiciously like a map. Rivers of blue light traced waterways while golden threads outlined mountain ranges. Purple markers dotted specific locations across what was clearly the northeastern United States.
"That's Maine," Jean-Marc said, stepping closer with the kind of intense focus he got when he was figuring things out. "I recognize the coastline and the way the Penobscot River branches."
The projection sharpened and then zoomed in on a specific area in northern Maine's wilderness. One purple marker pulsed brighter than the others. It was positioned in what appeared to be dense forest far from any roads or towns.
"What are you trying to tell us, little ones?" I murmured, studying the detailed topography they'd created. The level of precision was staggering. They were showing us elevationchanges and tree coverage. They even had what looked like hiking trails.
Thalia moved closer, and her storm-gray eyes widened as she examined the projection. "I know this place. That's Mount Katahdin's northern face."
