“She’s so tiny,” Ember whispers, his voice taking on a worshipful tone.
“She didn’t feel this small when I was pushing her out,” I grumble.
“She’s so perfect,” he murmurs for the millionth time since he first laid his eyes on her.
And I can’t help but agree with him wholeheartedly.
Hecate grabs Ember’s finger, her hold surprisingly strong for a child only a couple of days old. He freezes, his eyes going wide as I feel a surge of emotion through our bond. Overwhelming joy and love. Pure adoration.
And a sprinkle of panic.
“Why is it so warm in here?” I ask in confusion, sweat forming over my upper lip. I don’t think it was this hot when we first got here. Maybe the furnace is on the fritz?
“I’m feeling a little emotional, Habibi.”
“Ember,” I growl, my voice dropping in warning. “Don’t. You. Dare.”
Ember takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but panicking further when he sees that his arms are glowing bright yellow. His emotions swell further as sparks snap in the air around him.
“I think the stress from the last few months might be… triggering…” his hair bursts into flames, and I stumble a few steps back from my mate’s combusting form.
“EMBER!” I snarl, pissed now.
“I’m so sorry, Habibi!” he apologizes, looking genuinely upset. “I can’t control it.” The flames cover his face, spreading to his shoulders and down his torso. “This hasn’t happened since I was a teenager. I didn’t think it would be an issue at nine hundred years old!” His entire body is glowing now, engulfed in a large flickering flame that thankfully isn’t spreading to any of the furniture around him.
I’d be even more pissed if he burned our house down.
There’s a brightWHOOSHas phoenix light fills the room and my mate bursts into a ball of flame and ash. I turn my body to shield the baby. Even though the flames are large, they aren’t actually too hot, just extremely bright.
When the flames disappear, all that’s left is ash and a naked toddler. The toddler blinks up at me and sneezes a puff of ash and smoke.
“…Ember?”
“Hi.” The toddler grins and gives me a chagrined wave.
I look down at the newborn in my arms, then at my toddler-shaped mate.
Godsdammit.
“This is notat allhow I expected today to go,” I whine in frustration.
Toddler Ember stands up, dusts off his chubby body, and walks through the ashes toward me. He raises his arms above his head, making grabby hands. “Upsies?” he asks, a cheshire grin on his chubby cheeks.
I glare at him, but pick him up so he can see our daughter. Ember rests his tiny head on my shoulder and stares happily at our daughter. She sneezes adorably at the ash still floating in the air.
“Any regrets?” he asks, his voice a whisper.
“No ragrets. Not even a single letter.”
Epilogue
Sunshine
Ten years later
Mornings always start the same way these days.
With a large cup of Community coffee.
