Blood Ecstasy (Blood Curse Series Book 8) (33 page)

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

She extended her bottom lip in a pout. “I’m fat.”

He chuckled and massaged a gentle hand over her round, distended belly. “You’re mine.”

She swallowed her angst and shifted anxiously on the couch.
 

“Does that still make you nervous?” He removed his hand from her abdomen and tilted her chin toward him, to force her gaze. “Even now?”

She took a slow, deep breath. “Honestly? I don’t know. It makes me wary.”

“How so?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m just babbling. Maybe it’s the pregnancy.”

“Talk to me, Becca,” he intoned. Lowering his voice, he added, “Please.”

She held his gaze of her own accord this time, searching his eyes for hidden mysteries: It was so odd, so unexpected, to see Julien acting like this, speaking with such sincerity and directness. True, he had always been blunt and to the point, but this was somehow different. She could still hardly believe she was there; that he was alive; that the two of them had actually made love, if that was the term one would use for such an intimate battle of dark versus light, for the moment he’d claimed her soul…and she had saved his. “I think that…” She sighed, contemplating her words. “Obviously, I’m beginning to come to terms with our situation: me being your
destiny
, us being…
together
—”

“With our mating,” he interjected.

“Our circumstances,” she amended. “But a lot has happened in such a short amount of time, and it still feels pretty surreal.” She studied the deep, chiseled slopes of his cheekbones, the perfect rising arches of his brows, and the strong, angular set of his jaw and quivered just a bit inside. “I mean, in another twelve hours—which is insane to begin with—you and me, we’re going to have a
child
. And our lives will be connected forever. We will be connected…forever.”

Julien nodded, his expression earnest and his brow creased in thought. “The gods have decreed it, and it
is
happening, Becca, even though neither of us, at least for a time, knew what to think.” Before she could reply or expound on the thought, he brushed two fingers lightly over her belly and continued. “And
this
; you are going to sleep through it, at least the unpleasant part, the emergence of the soulless twin. And I…I will handle what needs to be handled—history is
not
going to repeat itself here—and we will never speak of it again, unless you need to. I promise. So, tell me: Is that still what you want?”

Rebecca lowered her head and thought deeply about his words. “Yeah.
Yes.
Definitely. But I also want to know what happens next. I mean, in terms of you and me.”

Julien flashed a sideways smile, his full lips turning up at one corner. “We will decide that together, Becca. I give you my word—how we live, where we travel, what we need to put in place for ourselves and our son—nothing is going to happen to you without your consent, not from this moment forward. And I am not going to change your entire life, at least not every aspect.”

She snickered. “Then you’ll come to meet my parents in Ohio?”

“Of course,” he answered plainly. “That should be…interesting.”

She laughed. “And what if I decide that I really want to live in Denver, at my apartment?” She knew she was being a brat.
 

 
“Then I will wrap my arms around you, wrestle you into submission, and firmly tell you,
no
.” He bantered in that familiar, dominant tone. “But”—he held up a hand to appease her—“but we can travel back and forth. If you want to keep leading the support group, the weekly meetings, then we’ll find a way to make that work. I can stand in the background and look unobtrusive. Hell, I can be the new VOSU guard.”
 

She almost fell out of her seat. “Oh, yeah, that’s just perfect. Because you’re not at all conspicuous or scary as hell or even batshit crazy at times, right?” She immediately regretted the provocative term, hoping he understood her sense of humor. And then, all at once, she fell quiet.

He eyed her from his peripheral vision. “What is it?”
 

She shrugged, tucked a lock of wayward hair behind her ear, and stared absently at the black duffle bag he had set on the living room floor when hauling in their luggage.
 

He followed her gaze and sighed.

She raised her chin, cleared her throat, and spoke quietly but deliberately. “When I first met you, that very first time, you were sitting alone in this great room, in an armchair, shrouded like a mummy, cloaked in the dark.”

Julien nodded slowly. “Yep. With Shelly Winters, a human woman, lying at my feet.”
 

She had to at least give him credit—he didn’t mince words. “Yes,” she said quietly. “And your hands were dripping with blood, and you…you were—”
 

“High on heroin,” he supplied.

She swallowed hard and nodded.
 

“What do you want me to say, baby girl? There’s little you don’t know or understand.”
 

She winced, almost ashamed of her question: “Is that over?” she whispered. “I mean; do you ever think you will be free of the drugs?”

Julien sank back against the couch, crossed one leg over the other, yet kept his hand on her knee so he could continue to block her sensations. “I don’t know, little mouse. I can’t tell you
yes
; and I won’t tell you
no
. I don’t ever care to see another village burn, or to destroy the people I love. As it stands, our warriors are still helping the citizens of Silverton Creek, although at least they’ve stopped the bleeding. Only the gods know if I will ever have a true handle on my rage, or if that explosive thing inside of me, the part so intimately and destructively linked to the earth that rises to such an abrupt and disastrous level, almost in the blink of an eye, can ever be made to heel. But what I can say to you is this: Something is different. Something feels different. Something has…somehow changed. And I don’t know if it burned in that fire, froze on that bridge, or was released in the Valley of Death and Shadows, but the darkness is not as bleak, and it’s no longer eating me alive.” He stared off into the distance, as if searching for the perfect words. “When you reached out to me and took my hand, when your light enveloped that gloom, it was like some part of me, something in my core that was missing, came back to life. I don’t know what to call it. I don’t know how to describe it, other than being wrapped in a cocoon, but whatever goodness you have, Rebecca, whatever’s at the center of your soul—it’s a part of me now, too. And I just somehow think it’s going to make a difference.” He shrugged, although it was anything but indifferent. “But I’m not going to make you promises I can’t keep. We’re gonna have to take it one day at a time. I am who I am, little mouse.”
 

Rebecca studied his expression, and she thought his eyes looked much less haunted, much less full of pain. They were crystal clear, as dazzling as moonlight, and stark with both truth and regret.
 

She could hardly ask for more.
 

At least his answer had been forthright and fair, and she deeply appreciated his candor.
 

“I do understand,” she whispered. “More than you know. And it’s not like I haven’t battled some demons of my own. Sometimes we’re lucky, and our demons are vanquished. Other times, we just learn to live with their presence, making the most out of our time in the sun, knowing that they always lurk in the dark. Either way, we do the best we can, one day at a time. No one understands that better than me.” She reached out to take his hand and forced herself to squeeze it—she couldn’t remain intimidated forever. “For whatever it’s worth, tracker,” she gently pointed out, “and just in case you haven’t noticed: Not once, since you were injured or in the clinic, since you wrestled your own demons in that barren hell, or since you came back to Dark Moon Vale, have you had the need to touch the drugs.” She glanced at the duffle bag and smiled, albeit faintly. “I think you’re right—something has changed. And if my light is your beacon in the darkness; if my heart is your shelter in that storm; if my being bound to you is your salvation, then I’m grateful that the gods chose me. Because you deserve to be free, Julien. You really do. And all my life, that’s all I’ve ever wanted—to set other people free.”

He drew back his hand as if she had burned him, as if his heart had jolted in his chest.

But he didn’t pull the latter away.
 

Rather, he slid his fingers into the fall of her hair, gently massaged her neck, and then reached over with his other palm and tenderly guided her cheek, turning it ever so slightly toward his lips. His thumb swept over her soft, silky skin, and his head fell forward, until he brushed her jugular with a kiss. “I’m falling in love with you, Rebecca Johnston,” he whispered huskily in her ear. “And I can’t remember a single day, not a single moment in my life, when I ever felt this blessed. Thank you,
ș
oarec micu
ț
, my beautiful angel of light.”

Drawing back so he could search her gaze, he flashed the most innocent yet provocative smile, and then he covered her mouth with his.

And all the words they hadn’t spoken, all the years they hadn’t shared, all the things they had yet to learn about one another melted away into nothing beneath the passion and the promise in that kiss.

Rebecca Johnston was in Julien’s arms.

He was powerful.

He was brave.

And he was courageous.

And as unbelievable as the entire saga had been, there wasn’t a part of her that wanted to fight it.

As his words lingered in her ear, his touch permeated her heart, and his stunning, magnificent lips claimed hers, she simply let go and lost herself in the utter perfection of the moment.
 

Julien watched as Rebecca slept peacefully in his huge—in
their
huge—iron-and-wood platform bed. The enormous oscillating ceiling fan whirled in soft, lazy circles above her, even as a crisp mountain breeze salted the air, flowing from the open stained-glass windows. The peace and tranquility of eastern Dark Moon Vale permeated the atmosphere as Julien prepared for one of the most monumental moments of his life: the birth of his firstborn son.

He was grateful that Rebecca wanted no part of the Curse, that she was more than content with meeting the newborn babe, the one they would name and raise after the affair was over, and honestly, he couldn’t blame her for choosing to sleep through the arrival. After all, she had lived through so much darkness, learned far too much about Ian, and endured the aftermath of a soulless evil twin in Kagen’s rustic clinic: What were a few minutes, either way, over the span of a lifetime?
 

As it stood, Ramsey and Tiffany had offered their time and their support: Ramsey, to stand guard while Julien made the required sacrifice, and Tiffany to watch over Rebecca and the newborn infant while Julien was away. They would find some permanent help soon enough, perhaps from a loyal human family that resided in Dark Moon Vale, or perhaps through the house of Jadon’s network—there were so many couples with babies these days.
 

It would all work out, one way or the other.
 

The cycle had repeated for centuries.

Now, as he glanced at the clock on the end table and registered the time—it truly wasn’t necessary; his internal clock told him all he needed to know—he squared his shoulders toward the bed, stiffened his jaw, and began to quietly recite a prayer, an entreaty spoken in the old language that would draw the children nigh. As the elegant, hypnotic words rose like wisps of smoke from a gently banked fire, he allowed the rhythm to soothe him.

“
Veni
ț
i înainte
.”
Come forth
, he called to his children.
 

And just like that, the bedroom began to fill with tiny prisms of light, reminiscent of a glistening rainbow. It formed a multicolored arc over the bed, directly above Rebecca’s stomach, and shimmered all around her. A familiar sound permeated the room, the soft, insistent drone of rushing water, and what almost looked like an aura made of gold began to dust the covers: rising, falling, and swirling all around Rebecca’s pregnant belly in the form or iridescent sparkles.
 

At last, it formed a peak above the apex of the protruding stomach and began to coalesce as waves of light. The transformation—the miracle—was awe-inspiring, even as much as it was frightening. Julien knew all too well that this moment could herald a lifetime of joy or a lifetime of agony, depending on how it was handled.

As the waves of light undulated, faster and faster, he steadied his resolve—who knew which child would emerge from the womb first to greet…or curse…his father?
 

The sound of rushing water grew louder and louder, until it was almost deafening, and then the faint, gentle outline of a baby appeared, materializing slowly into a fully formed child, a child with stark mahogany hair and eyes the color of its mother’s: brilliant, enigmatic topaz.