“No, I’m okay,” I whisper, shutting my eyes. “Just … so tired.”
The hand lifts and lightly sweeps back the hairs at my temple. It’s such an oddly gentle gesture. Caring. The kind of sweetness that is so human I almost don’t see the darkness that swells around him.
“It will be over soon,” he assures, lips brushing the top of my head, disturbing the hairs.
“That’s what I’m worried about,” I murmur. “It’s all happening too fast and it’s all too much.”
I’m thankful when he doesn’t try to assure me. Instead, he lets me sit in silence, watching light flurries of snow drift down from the heavens.
It’s unclear how long we sit this way when the faint hiss and rustle of sheets has my head lifting. It turns to find Marcus pushing upright. His dark hair tumbles around his sleepy features, over eyes that dart around the room with panic before they find me.
“Mon p’tit?What’s wrong?”
I shake my head even when he shoves back the blankets and hurries towards me.
“I’m all right,” I partially lie.
He stands before me, pale eyes working over me in assessing sweeps. I wonder if he can tell I’m bigger. Maybe it’s all in my head. A delusion manifested by my overactive imagination. Maybe I feel bigger because I want this baby out already so I can meet it.
But the way he blinks makes me think it’s not entirely in my head.
“Breakfast,” he decides firmly, like the state of me requires immediate sustenance. “Shower, then breakfast.”
I would argue that I want a few more minutes where I sit, that I’m comfortable, but I’m equally anxious to get going. I’m already thinking we should handle the final Duvals before we come back to tackle the nursery. It’s probably too late to paint the room, but at least we should get clothes.
“Can we go to the store—?”
My question to Veyn is brutally interrupted by the clawing punch of pain that slams down the line of my spine and spearsbetween my thighs. It’s a blinding rush of fire that knocks the wind from my lungs as I fight my body’s reflexive urge to bolt upright like it can escape it.
“Linny?”
Marcus makes as if to grab me, but Veyn already has me scooped up against his chest.
“I’m … I’m okay,” I pant, hands cradling the bump as the life inside twists and kicks in an eager dance that continues to press against my center.
“Are you in pain?” the demon asks.
I wait for the sensation to return, but nothing happens.
“I think I’m okay.”
“Maybe you should stay in bed,” Marcus decides, eyeing me with poorly concealed concern. “I’ll get a doctor to come check on you.”
“And tell them what?” I argue. “That I’ve been pregnant roughly a week?”
“You need a doctor,” he states with aggravation. “A professional who will know what to do. This isn’t like having a cold. It’s serious and dangerous, and so much can go wrong.”
“A doctor will ask too many questions,” I remind him again. “I’m fine. I’ll just stay in bed and—”
“Human.”
Veyn has gone still, head cocks to the side, face tilted in the direction of the window.
That seems to be enough to have Marcus leave my side and hurry to look outside.
I think it’s Mr. and Mrs. Pym. Marcus’s bedroom faces the side of the house. No one else would be moving around the property for no reason.
But I can tell from the confusion on his face that he doesn’t see anyone when he turns to face Veyn.
