Blood Vengeance (Blood Curse Series Book 7) (29 page)

Ramsey’s approving smile was positively breathtaking. He nodded and stroked her arm with appreciation. “I know that, Miss Matthews.” He leaned forward then, pressing a soft kiss on her belly. “Just as you know, by now, that taking care of you…
protecting you
… standing in the gap isn’t just what I do. It’s who I am. This might sound a bit messed up, when it really isn’t, but all I’ve ever wanted from a life with a
destiny
, from a life with
you
, is for the gods to give me a woman who’s strong enough to submit, to let me be
her
sentinel. Not always. Not in all things. Not blindly or without question, but yeah, I’m cut from a fairly protective cloth. You fighting me or going through unnecessary discomfort in order to hold
me
up? Nah. There may be times when that’s needed, but honestly, baby girl, I want you to
want me
to handle it. Does that make a lick of sense?”

Tiffany squeezed the hand that was now holding hers. If she hadn’t been so aware of her topsy-turvy emotions, and so determined to control them, she might have started crying again. “I don’t want to endure the experience just to lose the memory. I’d rather be put to sleep.”

“You don’t need to see him?” he whispered. “For closure?”

She shook her head. “No.”

He locked his gaze on hers. “Consider it done.”

*

As excited as Ramsey was for the birth of his son—
and
after all these centuries
—he was equally serious about the Curse: all business, no play. He understood intrinsically that there was a whole lot of future, and past, and obligation riding on these next critical moments, that he had a critical role to fulfill, and Tiffany was counting on him to keep his promise.

As the dimly lit room filled with tiny prisms of light, and miniature, translucent rainbows began to oscillate through the air, glistening directly above Tiffany’s protruding belly, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and spoke the necessary cryptic prayer in the old language, the invocation that would call his offspring forth from his
destiny’s
womb.

He immediately sensed a dark, disharmonious energy, and he knew instinctively that the Unnamed One was coming first. Locking Tiffany’s expectant gaze with his own, he nodded slowly, bent forward to brush the backs of his fingers along her anxious jaw, and whispered a silent command:
Sleep
. As her eyes drifted closed, he sent a telepathic call to his brothers:
It’s time.
Since they were waiting just outside the door, it only took Saxson and Santos an instant to materialize inside the room, each warrior standing on an opposite side of Tiffany’s bed. “The Dark One is coming first,” Ramsey said, without preamble.

Saxson inclined his head. “I’ll take him to the Chamber of Sacrifice and Atonement and wait for you there.” His matching hazel eyes were stark with determination.

Santos held his tongue. Heck, he appeared to be holding his breath. The Olaru brothers had pre-orchestrated the events, at least as best as they could: Saxson would remove the Dark One from the room immediately, and Santos would remain with Tiffany when Ramsey departed to complete the necessary ritual. Both males were clearly focused and on board.

Ramsey pressed closer to Tiffany’s abdomen as a powerful, rushing sound, like a train dashing into a station, filled the room with surround-sound acoustics and gravelly undertones. The halo that arced above the crest of Tiffany’s belly was muddy and
angry
, for lack of a better word, and the particles that flickered outward were anything but golden. They were an inky yellow-green. Ramsey bit down on his lower lip and held out one hand, and just like that, the child materialized: dark, malevolent, and thoroughly ticked off.

It was almost as if he knew.

It
knew.

His novice fangs were fully developed, and he lunged, sinking them deep into the palm of Ramsey’s waiting hand, as if the dominant show of aggression would somehow buy him clemency from his father, as if the aberrant act of bonding could somehow change the Curse.

Ramsey whistled low beneath his breath, refusing to meet the dark child’s glowing, demonic eyes. “Take him,” he said to Saxson, wrenching his hand free from the tiny demon’s bite.
The Blood had certainly contrived a cruel and twisted, everlasting torment…

Saxson didn’t hesitate. He reached out with a firm pincer grip and secured the Dark One’s neck with one hand, while bracing the child’s torso against his chest with the other, making sure that he couldn’t break free.

The tiny creature hissed.

He tried to throw back his head, without success, and his red-and-black banded hair began to undulate around his scalp like a twisted ball of serpents. That was the last thing Ramsey saw as Saxson and the infant vanished from the room.

Ramsey cocked his brows and gave Santos a knowing glance. “Glad that’s over.”

“The first part,” Santos reminded him, his solemn eyes brimming with intensity.

“True,” Ramsey uttered, and then a wave of relief swept over him as a beautiful, multicolored halo returned over Tiffany’s belly in a graceful arc, and the space above her naval filled once more with shimmering particles of dust; only this time, they sparkled a glorious, brilliant gold. “Wake up, baby girl,” he said softly.

Tiffany blinked several times before her soft sea-green eyes opened. She tried to sit up, was immediately restricted by the weight and size of her belly, and fell back into the pillows, all the while seeking Ramsey’s gaze. “Is it—”

“It’s done,” he said. “Your son is raring to get out of there.” He inclined his head toward her heaving belly and cast his eyes to the side, listening intently, emphasizing the pure, harmonic tones now filling the room.

Tiffany’s eyes grew wide with wonder and surprise. “Oh my gosh,” she whispered, reverently.

Ramsey smiled. “You ready?”

She nodded, shook out her hands to release some tension, and then stared earnestly at her belly. “Yes.” Her hands became jittery once more, and she wrung them together a couple of times before forcing them down, against the bed, and holding onto the sheets for stability.
“Yes.”

The golden particles rose into a peak, just above the apex of her belly, and then gradual waves of light began to pulse, faster and faster, streaming above her, even as the ambient sound grew louder and louder. And just like that, Santiago Roman appeared.

He did not begin as an outline.

He did not slowly shimmer into view.

He did not ease his way into this new dimension with subtlety and grace.

Rather, and in true
Ramsey Olaru
fashion, he simply ramrodded his way into the room as if to say to all involved: “Hello, family. I’m here!”

In a rare, unforgettable moment, so perfectly timed it could have been orchestrated, Ramsey, Santos, and Tiffany all laughed out loud. And then Tiffany leaned forward, clearly amazed as her large, swollen belly began to rapidly deflate, returning to pre-pregnancy form. “Well, hello, little guy,” she cooed. “I see you’re just like your father, not lacking for confidence.”

The baby wriggled restlessly in Ramsey’s hold and reached out for Tiffany.

“Ah, and I see you have good taste.” She immediately took the babe in her arms and cradled him close to her heart, her expression lit with joy.

At a glance, Ramsey’s heart swelled with affection and pride: Tiffany was absolutely radiant, and her eyes shone with a gleam unlike anything he had ever seen before. They were positively brimming with love.

And then the door to the private room swung open.

“Is he here yet?” Julien Lacusta’s gruff, baritone voice pierced the inner sanctum, even as Saber Alexiares swaggered in on his heels.

“Well, come on in,” Ramsey barked sarcastically. “Make yourselves at home.”

“Aw, shut up,” Julien snorted. He strolled to the side of the bed, bent over Tiffany, which made the female flinch, and took a real hard gander at the babe. “Well, would you look at that?” he bellowed. “That sucker’s got silver-green eyes.” He threw back his head and chuckled.

“And some blond-ass hair!” Saber added, gawking at the nearly opal locks adorning the child’s scalp.

“Language, warriors,” Tiffany said in a no-nonsense tone. “Sheesh, his first word is going to be a swear word.”

“Nah,” Julien said, reaching down to test the child’s grip.

Ramsey rolled his eyes, and then he gave Saber a sidelong, questioning glance. Julien’s brusque, somewhat unorthodox entrance he could understand, but Saber strolling into the room? Now
that
was unexpected.

The dragon shrugged one shoulder. “Hey, you said you loved me. I figured you wouldn’t make it without me.”

Santos and Julien eyed Ramsey suspiciously, and the Master Warrior shook his head. “It wasn’t like that,” he grumbled.

Santos’s crystal-blue eyes lit up with mischief. “Hey, your business, brother. As long as Tiffany’s all right with it—”

Before he could rib him any further, and as if the room wasn’t crowded enough, the door swung open again. This time, Brooke Adams-Mondragon entered. She was sitting comfortably in a wheelchair, being pushed by her kingly mate, and both of her long, elegant arms were filled with newborn bundles.

Tiffany shot up straight on the bed, careful to support Roman’s head. “Oh my gosh!” Her voice rose to a pitch that made all four males wince. “Bring them over here!”

Santos, Julien, and Saber took several broad steps backward, instantly aware of the royal couple, that they were in the presence of their king
and queen
. Eyes were respectfully averted, and heads were gracefully bowed.

Ramsey scowled:
Oh, yeah, the vamps had no problem showing some decorum when it came to Napolean.
He watched as Napolean wheeled Brooke to the side of the bed and thought absently that she must have been in the chair because the babies were a boatload to handle—her healing would have been instant and complete following “delivery.”

Brooke leaned as far forward as she could, without shifting her balance in the chair or jeopardizing her offspring’s safety, and Tiffany met her halfway, holding Roman out toward her occupied lap.

“Santiago Roman Olaru,” Tiffany said proudly, and Ramsey chuckled inwardly, thinking what the moment would have been like had she murmured, “George.”

Brooke sighed with appreciation and wriggled her nose at the child, since her arms were obviously full. “Nice to meet you, Santiago.”

“Roman,” Tiffany corrected.

Brooke exchanged a familiar glance with her best friend and nodded before turning back to the baby. “Nice to meet you,
Roman
.” She glanced down at her own precious cargo and turned her attention to the child on the left. “Prince Paris Mondragon, meet Tiffany and Roman.” She raised her arm upward to show Tiffany the baby, then turned her head to the right. “Prince Parker, this is your cousin, Roman.”

Ramsey furrowed his brow and shot a questioning glance at Napolean.
They’re not cousins
. He mouthed the words.

Napolean shrugged.

Before anyone could reply, Kagen and Arielle Silivasi shuffled their way into the doorway and peered into the room, their obvious curiosity getting the best of them. “Everything good?” Kagen asked.

“Oh… my… goodness!” Arielle exclaimed, unable to restrain from plowing into the room and approaching the babies.

As the women repeated introductions and proudly showed off their children, Ramsey sank back into the shadows, taking a less prominent position next to Kagen and the king.

“When’s the naming ceremony?” Kagen asked Napolean, his satiny, good-natured voice as soothing as always.

Napolean shook his head. “Not for a couple of weeks.” He turned toward Ramsey and raised his eyebrows as if to say,
Is that all right with you
? “I think my hands are going to be very full for a minute, and it’s not like they don’t already have names.”

Ramsey nodded, understanding. “I can wait a couple weeks for the formal naming as long as we work the mating ceremony in as soon as possible.” He gestured toward Tiffany. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t truly and indelibly
his
in every way possible, but still, she had just given him a son. He wanted it to be official.

Napolean smiled, also understanding. “You get your brothers together, and I’ll stop by later tonight to take care of it.”

Ramsey inclined his head with appreciation. “Works for me.” He turned toward the bed and smiled as he heard Tiffany tell Brooke how much she loved the alliteration—Phoenix, Paris, and Parker—wasn’t that creative?

As if Ramsey and Roman weren’t sort of the same?

He chuckled and waved his hand in a small arc to get her attention. “I still have something to
take care of
,” he said, ignoring all the bystanders in the room. He hoped she would understand what he meant, as well as the urgency. Saxson was still waiting, after all.

Napolean placed a supportive hand on his shoulder, almost absently, and Ramsey couldn’t help but think that the king was lucky: He could just enjoy the birth of his sons this time around—there was no dark curse or dark twin to concern himself with.

Tiffany nodded, clearly understanding, and then she met his eyes in an intimate stare, smiled like there was no one else in the room, and gestured him over to the bed. “Come here,” she added for emphasis.

Ramsey sighed with relief, not realizing until that moment that he had been feeling a bit left out. He made his way to his
destiny
and child, and stopped just short of brushing up against the bed.

“Closer,” she whispered, peering at Roman, who was now lying peaceful and still in her arms.

Ramsey bent over and took a long, critical look at his son for the first real time. Indeed, his eyes were a pale, almost silver-green, as if they had merged somewhere between his light hazel and her sea-green hue, picking up a faint sliver tint from Tiffany’s hidden blue. If his hair were any more blond, it would nearly be white, and his features… they were already so refined, so polished. Lords, he was a good-looking kid with a serious hint to his demeanor. He bent down and kissed the child lightly on the forehead, and the vampire sighed contentedly, settling deeper into his mother’s arms. Tiffany reached out and wrapped her free arm around Ramsey’s shoulder, pulling him gently forward into a private embrace, and then she mouthed the words
I love you
and sealed it with a kiss.