“It doesn't fit,” I sigh, unable to keep the disappointment from my voice. “I must have miscalculated my measurements.”
Az comes to stand behind me, his hands settling on my hips. He studies my reflection, his expression shifting from appreciative to something more intense… more focused.
“May I?” he asks, gesturing to the clasps.
I nod, lifting my hair out of his way. His fingers work deftly, managing to secure a few more closures before the fabric pulls too tightly.
“I'll have to let it out,” I say, frowning. “I don't understand. I used the same pattern as the red dress from last month, and that one fits perfectly.”
Az doesn't respond, but I feel his breathing change. His hands move from the closures to my waist, then slide forward to rest lightly against my lower abdomen. His touch is gentle but deliberate, exploring the subtle curve there.
I meet his eyes in the mirror, confused by his strange expression until?—
“Oh,” I whisper, realization striking me like lightning. “You don't think that I'm...”
Az turns me in his arms, his gaze searching mine. “When did you last bleed?”
I blink rapidly, trying to remember. Time moves strangely in Hell—days blur together without proper seasons, only the subtle shifts in the color of the sky marking the passage of days. But it has been... a while.
“I don't know,” I admit, my voice small. “Two months? Maybe three?”
Az's face transforms with certainty, a smile spreading slowly across his features. “You're with child, Simone.”
The room tilts beneath me, and I grip his arms to steady myself.
Pregnant. After all this time, after believing that part of my life was over—that my body was somehow broken after what Thomas did.
“Are you sure?” My voice sounds distant, hollow in my own ears.
Az nods, and there's something almost reverent in his expression. “I know the signs. The slight fullness here…” His hand caresses my belly. “The change in your scent, your occasional fatigue in the afternoons.”
I hadn't connected those things. Hadn't wanted to, maybe.
“A baby,” I whisper, my tongue feeling numb.
Az guides me to the small chaise in the corner of the dressing room, helping me sit. He kneels before me, his large hands cradling mine, and for once, he looks almost vulnerable.
“Are you pleased?” he asks, uncertainty threading through his voice.
The question breaks through my shock, and suddenly I'm drowning in a flood of memories from thirteen years ago—Thomas' rough hands, the stairs, waking in a hospital to the knowledge that my baby was gone.
“I lost a baby once,” I tell Az, words spilling out before I can stop them. “Before. When I was human. I mean, when I thought I was human. I… He…”
Az's expression darkens with anger, and I know it's not directed at me but at whoever hurt me. “Will you tell me about it, little fairy?”
My heart drops into the pit of my stomach just at the thought. Frantically, I shake my head. “I can't. Not now. Not when we…”
“Shh,” he soothes, his hands gentle on my wrists. So different from Thomas' touch. “You'll tell me when you're ready.”
“I never thought I'd have this chance again,” I say instead, extricating one hand from his hold so I can touch my stomach.
Az watches the gesture, his eyes softening. “You're pleased, then?”
Am I? The question echoes in my mind. This isn't how I imagined motherhood—in Hell, with a fallen angel's son who abducted me and held me captive, who still keeps secrets from me. And yet...
“I think I am,” I answer honestly. “But I'm also terrified.”
Az rises from his knees and settles beside me on the chaise, pulling me against him. His arms around me feel like safety, like home—a concept I've been redefining since I arrivedhere.
