Marianna
Over the course of the afternoon, I check on Blake and Skye repeatedly, but both are sleeping like the dead. Sarah, Sydney, and my mom return from their lunch in great spirits. Sydney goes off to find Ryatt, and I slink around the castle while my mom and Sarah live in “grandma bliss” together, making up for lost time.
I’m checking on Blake and Skye for the eighth time as the sun sets when Maeve clicks her tongue at me from the entrance of the suite, tilting her head in a motion to follow her.
“Have you eaten today?” she asks as we walk through one of the many upper hallways in the palace, which after today, I feel like I can traverse without getting totally lost.
“Barely,” I admit, and she nods.
“Same. Come on.” She opens a side door I thought was just a mirror, and a staircase appears.
I guess I should still be careful walking around this place, especially now that I know there’re tunnels and corridors within the castle walls themselves.
We reach her suite, which is grand but girly, which makes Soren, currently pacing one of the two living areas, Fallon fussing in his arms, look desperately out of place, especially in fighting leathers and a slightly sweaty shirt.
“She’s pissed,” he says, patting Fallon’s back, but she lifts her head and wails.
Maeve blows out her breath and takes the beautiful, blonde baby girl in her arms, but instead of settling, Fallon begins to scream until she turns a deep purple.
“Oh, jeez,” Maeve grumbles, but I notice the uncertainty in her eyes when she sinks onto a couch and tries to nurse Fallon, but it’s no use.
I shift from foot to foot, my fingertips tingling with the desire to help, but… this is the queen. That baby? She’s the royal princess of Eastonia, Maeve’s heir. Fallon will be queen one day.
But Soren and Maeve share mirrored expressions of… straight up confusion as they debate how to settle her. I smile to myself when Soren scratches his head, looking utterly helpless, and Maeve doesn’t seem much better.
“Um, can I hold her?”
They blink at me, and within a second, Fallon is in my arms, purple with fury. But I realize when I maneuver her belly down over my forearm, she’s not raging for no reason.
“She’s a bit colicky,” I tell the fresh parents, who are standing stunned as I rock Fallon on my arm. She whimpers for a few seconds before settling into silence, her eyes drooping with fatigue. I pat her back, finding myself swaying–muscle memory, I suppose, after months spent in the same position, but with Skye on my arm.
“How–how did you do that?” Maeve asks, stunned.
“Her belly hurts, that’s all. The pressure of my arm is more comfortable for her.”
Soren watches as I continue to sway, but Maeve sinks back onto the couch looking defeated. “I had no idea. This whole time…”
“It’s no one’s fault. Skye was like this for a few months, but eventually, she grew out of it. Is feeding going okay? Nursing?”
“Better than it was, yeah, thanks to you.” She smiles at me, but her eyes are slightly wet with unshed tears. Tears of guilt, I realize, and bite my lip.
“Babies are hard.” Fallon falls asleep, her cheek pressed against the crook of my elbow.
“My sister made it look so easy.”
“Yeah, well, look at her now,” Soren chuckles, resting his arms against the back of the couch, leaning his weight against it. “Kieran is… a lot.”
“He’s a little demon,” Maeve agrees and then laughs heartily. “I don’t know how she does it.”
“Well, it’s an old wives’ tale, but easy babies tend to make up for it in toddlerhood.” I smile, absently running my fingers through Fallon’s silk-fine curls.
“What was Skye like when she was younger?” Maeve asks, reaching for the teapot on the coffee table. I watch steam rise as she pours three cups of tea, scenting the air with chamomile.
“Like this,” I tell them, motioning to Fallon. “Fussy, for sure. She grew out of that around nine months old, but by then, she was on the move.” I smile as memories of Skye as a baby sprint through my head. “She was curious and headstrong as a toddler but generally easygoing. She… she used to be so bright and animated. She loved to play pretend and sing… dance…” I turn away from them so they can’t see the broken expression crossing my features, but Maeve sighs, lacing her fingers over her knees.
“And then her powers emerged?”
“Yep.” I turn back to face them, nodding. “She was six when she started regressing into herself. The nightmares started happening, and she just… changed. She’s–she’s better here. I’ve noticed it…. She feels like she can be herself.” Now, they’re seeing my guilt, so similar to how they feel about themselves right now, like they’re doing everything wrong.
“I don’t know how you did this on your own for so long,” Maeve says, and Soren sighs, squeezing her shoulder before the phone in his pocket rings, and he answers it, his footsteps heavy when he retreats into a room down the hall. Maeve picks up a cup of tea and rises, handing it to me while Fallon continues to snooze, the sunlight pouring through the window warming her skin. “Soren didn’t know I was pregnant until a few days before she was born. I feel like he was thrown into the fire, so to speak, but he’s handled it so well, and I… feel like I haven’t.”
“You’re doing amazing, Maeve.”
She shakes her head. “I’m trying. I can’t get the hang of it, and then everything else going on is… I should have taken a longer break after she was born, but I couldn’t, not when war is on our doorstep.” She sips her tea, closing her eyes. “I shouldn’t even be complaining. You must be incredibly overwhelmed right now.”
“I… yeah, it’s been a lot.” I can’t help but laugh.
The tension breaks. I hold her gaze for several seconds, and she gives me a slight smile, but just as Fallon starts to stir, Blake walks into the suite looking a bit worse for wear but upright, which is progress.
Maeve frowns at him when he stumbles over a carpet runner. “Do you mind? You’re interrupting us.”
“I was just–just making sure Marianna was still here,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically frantic.
My heart lurches, and his eyes meet mine, relief washing through them. Where would I go?
I hand Fallon back to Maeve and go to Blake, wrapping an arm around his waist, and we leave, walking back through the castle at a slower pace than I anticipated. He’s cold to the touch.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’ll be fine by tomorrow,” he says but doesn’t look like he means it.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“We call it a depletion event. I used all of my powers, all of my reserves, pulling Skye out of that vision.” He braces a hand on the wall near the staircase leading to the floor where Skye’s staying in the guest suite with my mom.
“You should go back to bed,” I urge.
“I have work to do–”
“Is my mom with Skye?”
He nods, and with great effort, I help him down the stairs but turn onto the fifth floor balcony, leading him to his suite instead.
“Mom wanted to know when we can return to the townhouse, and I wasn’t sure what to say,” I tell him, drawing the curtains back to darken his bedroom.
“I want you here,” he says gruffly.
I turn to face him. He sits on the edge of the bed, his hands trembling as he takes off his shiny leather loafers. “Are you sure?”
“I want you in this bed, with me, every night and every morning,” he replies, his eyes darker than usual.
I furrow my brows. He should be flat on his back, not looking like he wants to eat me, but I can’t say I mind.
“Lock the door,” he says sternly, and my blood ignites like someone just struck a match.
I obey, then move slowly back in his direction. “You need to rest.”
“I can rest when I’m dead. I have too much to do–”
“Lie down,” I cut in, coming to a stop between his legs, but he doesn’t listen. So, I kneel, brushing my hands up his thighs. He bows his head, his eyes heavy and hooded as I unbutton his shirt.
“You don’t have to do that. I can–”
“Let me take care of you,” I whisper, looking up into his eyes. He curls his fingers around the back of my neck, pulls me forward, and kisses me. It’s a long, slow kiss that makes the bond between us tremble. His mark is already healed on my neck–a glorious, silver scar I feel proud to carry. It tingles, then heats, matching the same feelings in my body. My desire for him reaches a peak, too hot to dial back to simmer.
I smooth my hands over his bare chest, pushing his shirt off his arms. He tugs me close and then pulls me onto the bed. He’s weak, which… isn’t like him. He slumps against me, panting. I remove his shirt completely and toss it over the side of the bed. “Lie down, Blake.”
“No–”
“I said,” I whisper, guiding him off me and onto his back, “lie down and let me take care of you, for once.”
His hands settle on my hips for a moment until I scoot off him, off the bed entirely. He watches with a predator’s intent. I make a show of taking off my shirt, then my bra. He swallows hard, the column of his throat bobbing. I run my fingers down my belly to the button of my jeans.
“Come back to bed,” he rasps.
I shimmy out of my pants, and his eyes are focused on my breasts, which bounce with the motion. He sits up, and I can feel the heat beginning to pour through him, thawing the ice clogging his veins. I slowly pull my panties down, and his breathy groan fills me with want so intense I find it hard to focus.
“Come to bed,” he repeats darkly, his eyes shining with… powers. “Now.”
I step out of my panties and walk the short distance to the side of the bed. He sits up, pressing a wet kiss to my stomach before pulling me onto the mattress. I’m boneless as he rolls on top of me, nudging my legs apart. He fumbles with his zipper for a fraction of a second before pulling his pants and boxers down just enough to free himself.
He’s out of his mind over me.
“Blake,” I whimper, but his mouth is rough on my neck. He bites down over the mark he left there, sucking like he’s claiming me again, leaving another mark for the entire world to see. His cock presses through my folds in a deep, swift thrust until he’s buried to the hilt, and my inner walls clench him tight.
He grunts in satisfaction, losing himself completely to the feeling of being inside of me, consumed by me.
I clutch the back of his neck and arch my hips to meet him thrust for thrust. He pummels me into the sheets. He’s not gentle, but I didn’t want that. I want him undone, unleashed, and utterly open to what he really wants for once.
His powers return in full, his body so hot it’s fevered. I begin to whimper his name as an orgasm whispers through me, threatening to explode. He raises a hand and shields the room around us.
“Don’t be quiet. I want to hear you scream my name,” he groans, hissing out a breath. He rises on an elbow and presses my hip to the mattress, grinding inside of me so deep my toes curl, and all I see is stars.
“Gods, please!” I gasp, my body flooding with light and pleasure, and when his name leaves my lips, it’s a scream.
We fall asleep together, naked, warm in our bed, our legs tangled in the sheets.