Lady Kinstead smiled. “And he has your eyes and nose,” she said sweetly. Carefully, she offered the child to Laddin. “You have a beautiful son.”
Laddin gathered the child. Someone had taught him how to hold a baby, because he quickly tucked it close. Then he looked up at Bruce. “We made a baby,” he said, laughter in his voice. “Bruce, look!”
Bruce was looking, but his mind couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. “We were just talking,” he murmured, even though he knew it was a lie. They’d been creating. They’d been forming a future with words, fairy magic, and love.
He stepped closer. He had to see. He needed to know if it was true.
Others were coming over as well. On two feet or four, they edged closer, but Laddin was holding the child as if it was the most precious gift in the world. Which, now that Bruce thought about it, it was.
“Hey, little Aaron. I’m your daddy,” Laddin cooed. “Well, I’m Daddy Number One. Daddy Number Two is over there.” He looked up. “Come on, Number Two, say hi to your son.”
Josh had made it to Bruce’s side. His face had a streak of mud across it, but that didn’t dim his grin. “You have all the fairy magic in the world, and you make a baby with it? What, no power left over to give Uncle Josh a Ferrari?”
Bruce shot his brother a look. “You can’t even drive a stick! What the hell would you do with a Ferrari?”
“Give the car to Uncle Nero,” Nero said with a happy grumble. “Go on,” he said, nudging Bruce’s shoulder. “Go say hello to what you made.”
It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t even logical. And yet Bruce stumbled forward, and as he stood there looking stupid, Laddin offered him the baby. He hadn’t intended to take it, but he couldn’t let the child fall, could he? The feeling of having little Aaron in his arms was perfect, and the little pink bow the baby’s lips made as he sucked on his fist was even more perfect. Bruce didn’t know what to think. He sure as hell couldn’t be feeling this swell of love for a child that used to be a demon.
“It’s not real,” he murmured.
“Sure looks real,” whispered the older man who—he now realized—couldn’t speak above a whisper.
“Yeah,” chuckled Josh. “Please say I can be there when you explain this to Mom.”
“No!” Bruce said, his voice hard. “No parents. No others. Not yet.” Not until he could wrap his own head around it. Then he looked at Laddin. “Did we really make a baby? Did we really makeourbaby?”
“Yes,” an arrogant voice said. “Yes, you did. One born of love and magic. It’s unusual, to be sure, but he is definitely your firstborn child.”
It took Bruce a moment to recognize the voice—and then even longer to make himself look up from his child to see the fucking fairy prince standing there.
Bitterroot. And the asshole had saidfirstborn child.
The guy wasn’t dressed in salad right now. Instead, he was tall, dark, and his black eyes glittered with excitement. Bitterroot brushed a butterfly off his shoulder and reached for the child.
Bruce pulled back the child, and Laddin stepped between them.
“Get back, you fairy bastard!” Laddin growled.
“It is my right,” Bitterroot said firmly. “The child is mine by bargain of power. The very same power you used to create him.”
“Oh, child,” Lady Kinstead said, her voice ringing with dismay. “You didn’t bargain away your baby, did you?” She looked at Wulfric. “Didn’t we make a rule? No fairy deals? Didn’t we?”
Wulfric nodded, but he didn’t speak to her. Instead he turned to Bitterroot. “There must be—”
“I will not speak with Wulfric the Deceiver.”
Wulfric pressed his lips together, dipped his chin, and took a step back. With him went Lady Kinstead, her expression infinitely sad. But even as he stepped back, Nero pressed forward.
“Come on, Bitterroot. What would you do with a magic demon child anyway?”
“This child will be cherished beyond anything you can imagine,” Bitterroot snapped. “The bargain was made, the power used, and the child ismine!”
“No,” Bruce said loudly. “Absolutely not. This is not my firstborn child. I didn’t—we didn’t give birth to him. We—” He didn’t really know what they’d done, but it didn’t seem to matter. He could see that in Bitterroot’s face.
“Do not fight me on this,” Bitterroot said, his voice heavy with menace. “You will not win.”
“You can’t have him—” Bruce said.
