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“A warrior,” Angel said.
“And that part is still your job,” Sylas said as he dropped a bunch of bags just inside our open doorway. Diapers and clothes from what I could see from the tops. “Good luck!”
“This is a joke,” I said. “This is a prank. You’re all—”
Sylas vanished before I could finish my response. The door slammed shut behind him. And through the thin walls of the apartment, I heard the distinct sound of two kitsune laughing as they retreated down the hall.
“Those little shits,” I muttered.
“They’re not little,” Wade said. “They’re terrifying.”
“They’re still shits.”
I looked down at the baby in Angel’s arms. The baby looked back up at me with sleepy, unfocused eyes. It yawned. It had no idea what kind of chaos it had just been born into. “Wait, we have a demi-god baby?”
Angel glanced at Gwen and then back down at the infant in his arms. “Fae mixed with demi-god could be anything.”
Ivan was grinning. “I set up the room last night.”
“The room?”
Ivan pointed toward another door beside the pantry. One that hadn’t existed in the original floor plan.
I stared at him.
He opened the door to reveal a nursery.
A crib. A rocking chair. A dresser with tiny clothes folded in neat stacks. A mobile hanging from the ceiling, rotating slowly, tiny stars and moons catching the light. And on the wall, painted in careful, painstaking detail, a mural of green vines and tiny golden threads, weaving together like a promise.
He’d painted the thread of fate, and within all the strands were names. Our family, found rather than blood, and I was shocked by the detail.
I stared at it for a long moment. At the names. At the threads. At the future my little brother had painted on the wall.
“We’re raising your future mate’s baby…” I grumbled, because it was easier to joke than to cry. “This is like the door prize no one asked for. A lifetime of debt to a demi-god?”
Gwen shook her head. “This debt is paid in full now.”
Ivan shrugged. “Maybe not future mate.” He paused. “But that’s okay.”
The words hung in the air. He didn’t look at me. He just looked at the baby.
“You can weave your strands into hers,” he continued. “It’s part of being a xian.”
“Ivan—” I started.
“Don’t.” He shook his head. “Not tonight. Tonight is about her. And us.” He nodded at the baby. “We can talk about the rest later. Let’s have a party. Celebrate the next generation and open some presents.”
I swallowed hard, staring at the tiny face and how Angel held her like she was the most precious thing in the world. “You okay with this?” I asked him.
He blinked up at me as if waking from a daze. “Huh?”
“A baby demi-god?”
His shoulders tensed. “Lots of people will want to use her power.”
I nodded. I’d thought about it too. The fae. The military. The remains of the cult. Everyone who’d ever wanted a piece of me or Angel or Ivan. They’d want a piece of her too.
“We won’t let them,” I said.
