Sydney
A Few Days Later
I pour another ladle full of chicken noodle soup into the bowl on the tray I’ve been putting together for the last thirty minutes. The kitchen all around me is a complete disaster, but the tray looks nice. I smile at the little yellow flower I plucked from Sarah’s collection in the atrium. She’s been spending most of her days there this week, taking inventory in preparation for the spring planting season. She has huge plans for not only the historic gardens surrounding our manor, but down in the village as well where I’ve carved out a few new parks for pack use.
The kettle squeals, and I pour a cup of tea–the kind from a box. I have no idea what Cosette puts in the tea she’s always drinking with my mate.
I carefully pick up the tray and turn my back on the mess I left behind in the kitchen and make my way down the hallway toward the sitting room at the front of the manor where a TV now blares some odd reality dating show Sarah has Cosette hooked on.
Cosette, propped up on the couch, eyes me with heavy skepticism as I set the tray down in front of her.
“I’m not even going to ask what the kitchen looks like right now,” she grumbles then gives me her best attempt at a smile.
“I could heal you, you know. Hell, I could give you a dose of my grandma’s tears–”
“No, thank you. Save that for emergencies.”
“You got stabbed in the ribs, Cosette. That constitutes an emergency.”
“Well I survived, didn’t I?” She picks up the remote and turns the volume up.
I tuck my hands in my pockets and frown at her. This is only temporary, of course. The first day we returned from Eastonia, Cosette was still at the castle being mended by the healers, refusing the tears and any attempts of divine intervention. She was never going to die, not after James’s quick thinking and surprisingly advanced first-aid skills. But Cosette is healing slowly, and I know it has to do with the stress of Sarah and I suddenly being whisked away.
“You’re going to be back on your feet sooner if you eat regularly.”
Cosette sighs, her eyes flicking to mine. “Thank you for the soup.”
“Of course.” I turn on my heel and head back to the kitchen to deal with the destruction there, but a knock sounds on the front door. I’m not expecting anyone, and Sarah is out in the village with Blake, but she wouldn’t knock on the door and wait to come inside.
Cosette doesn’t even notice me changing directions. I pull the door open and pause, my heart sinking into my stomach for a fraction of a second.
Commander Artyom in his black Ghost commander’s uniform stands on my porch.
“Commander?”
“I’m sorry to intrude,” he says, and I brace myself for the worst. What criminal mastermind is at it now? What war is on my doorstep? I wait for my phone to start ringing with a call from my dad, but then I notice the wildflower bouquet in his hand. “I’m checking on Cosette.”
“Oh.” That's all I can manage. I open the door wide for him and move out of his way, motioning for him to come inside. He looks around, and the casualness of his stance and expression is slightly unnerving, honestly.
I’ve known Commander Artyom my entire life in a professional sense. He’s one of my uncle’s longest serving commanders, having held his position for close to two decades. He’s the leader of the highly trained, covert Ghost forces.
He’s a shadow. A true ghost. He also has strange powers similar to Ryatt’s, but no one has ever been able to tell me definitively what they are.
But now he just looks like a… man. A man, I realize, in love.
I stand in the foyer as he turns into the sitting room. Cosette gasps, and I wonder for a moment if I need to intervene. But then I hear a sound I haven’t heard in a very long time.
Cosette laughs as she turns off the TV, asking what Artyom is doing here.
His reply is cut off by the gentle hum of the garage door rolling up, alerting me to my mate returning from her errands.
I tear myself from the foyer and meet Sarah in the hallway as she pushes into the house with Blake, asleep in his car seat, in one hand and a few grocery bags in the other.
“Commander Artyom is in our sitting room,” I whisper, taking Blake from her.
“What? Why?” Sarah furrows her brow and hurries after me as I walk into the kitchen to carefully transfer Blake into his swing, which is the only place he’ll nap the past few days.
She dumps the groceries on the counter and turns to me, whispering, “Why is he here? What happened?”
“I don’t think anything happened,” I whisper back as I edge away from the swing like there’s a live bomb inside of it instead of a sleepy, very grumpy baby. “He brought flowers.”
“Flowers?!”
I nod vigorously, motioning to the widow. “Wild flowers. Like he walked up here and picked them on his way.”
“Flowers for who? Not for us.”
“No, not for us. For Cosette.”
“Cosette?!” Sarah’s eyes light up. I grab her arm as she whirls toward the kitchen door.
“She’s happy, Sarah. Finally. We need to leave them alone.”
Sarah pouts, but by some miracle, Dalia runs into the kitchen, her cheeks flushed with excretion. “You’ll never believe what I just saw!”
I run my hand over my face, but Sarah whispers, “What? What did you see?”
“Cosette and that weird Eastonia commander guy are sitting next to each other on the couch. He’s making her laugh. She’s smiling like a schoolgirl!”
“What else did you hear?” Sarah begs.
“Both of you–”
“He complimented her on the soup.”
I feel a little smug about that, smirking. “I made–”
“And he asked her if she wanted to go get dinner together–tonight. To get her out of the house for a bit.”
“Dinner? Like a date?”
The kitchen door swings open, revealing Cosette, who doesn’t look the least bit injured all of a sudden. She looks around at the mess and the three of us huddled in a whisper conversation.
“I’m not even going to ask what’s going on,” she sniffs, glaring. “I’m going out. You’re on your own for dinner.”
Sarah beams at her, and Cosette rolls her eyes before smiling slyly and turning on her heel.
* * *
“Do you think they’re mates?” Sarah asks from the ensuite bathroom several hours later.
I swivel in my desk chair to face her as she steps out of the steamy bathroom in nothing but a towel, her hair wet and falling over her shoulder. “Cosette had a mate, you know.”
“You can have more than one if you lose the first, right?”
“So I’ve heard.”
I watch her walk to the dresser, rifling through my selection of old shirts she prefers to sleep in. The image of her dressed in a pair of my pajamas after her first night here springs to the forefront of my mind. She’d been so thin then, so pale. So terrified, honestly.
Sarah’s at home now, though. Everything she does makes this place warmer. Everything she touches is better for it. “Come here.”
She peers at me, trying to hold up her towel as she yanks a particularly ratty shirt I’ve kept since high school free from the drawer. “Why?”
“I just want to look at you.”
She walks over, smiling at me as she stops between my legs. “Are you working tonight?”
“I just needed a distraction for a minute.” I reach over and turn off my computer, the design I was working on fading to black.
“I asked you a question, remember?” She slides onto my lap, hiking up the towel over her thighs. She’s been shifting almost every night, going on long runs through the fresh, spring forests blooming all around us. Her legs are solid muscle now as I run my hands up her thighs and between the seams of the towel.
“Do I think they’re mates? Well, I don’t think Cosette would give him the time of day if she didn’t think he was special.” Her skin is still damp from her shower, and she smells different. There’s a little shop in the village that sells soaps and other potions for the skin and hair, and it’s been her favorite to explore so far.
“The night you left with Gabriel, I saw him looking at her after we brought her to the castle for help. He had an odd look on his face, like he was seeing something.”
“Something that finally made sense?”
She smiles softly, nodding. “That’s a perfect way to describe how this feels.” She wraps her arms around my neck, resting her forehead against mine. “I hope they’re mates.”
“Me too,” I answer honestly, savoring her warmth.
She pulls away and slides off my lap, walking back into the bathroom.
“Where are you going?”
“I got something in the village today,” she says over the sound of her towel hitting the floor. I can just see her reflection in the foggy mirror as she pulls the navy blue shirt over her head and smooths it down her sides before reaching for something on the counter.
She lingers in the doorway. The nervous look on her face makes my spine straighten. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she says weakly.
I rise from my chair and walk to her, smoothing my hand up her forearm. But then she uncurls her fingers, and my life flashes before my eyes in a way I hadn’t expected.
Everything good I ever did–every trial and tribulation–comes to this. This moment.
With her.
“You’re pregnant?”
“Yeah,” she says, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. “I am.”
My lips meet hers in a rough kiss. The pregnancy test falls to the ground between us as I back her against the doorframe and kiss her like my life depends on it. My hands tangle in her hair as I cup the back of her head. “Sarah.”
“Are you happy?” she cries, choking on the words.
I nuzzle her neck, pressing my weight against her. “Of course, I’m happy. I’ve never been happier.”
“We weren’t…. It’s so soon.”
“We weren’t doing anything to prevent it,” I remind her, nose to nose. Then, I’m laughing, delirious with joy.
A baby. Another baby.
And I get to be here for every minute of it this time.
We’re safe.
I pick her up and carry my mate to our bed, laying her down on sheets that smell like us, in a home we’ll raise our family in. Our growing family.
I fall asleep that night with Sarah nestled close, her hair falling over my chest in long tendrils of pale gold, and cast a prayer to the moon.
I don’t know why the Goddess felt I deserved this, but I’m glad She didn’t listen to me, maybe even laughed, when I swore I’d never allow myself to fall in love.