Demon's Captive (11 page)

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      Seated at his large desk, liberally littered with agricultural reports, Melmanon absently hefted a large, glass paperweight. His mood was pensive at best. The changes in his household were striking, and he knew Charity was blooming. Her happiness was contagious, but he discovered something ugly inside of him. He was resentful of his own child. It was a forcible reminder of the day he'd been driven to a jealous rage by Charity's joy at seeing her people. With the rising anticipation for their daughter's arrival, his malcontent grew, and he started to fear what he would do. The familiar rage he had suppressed so well for almost a year began to build inside of him.
      His only solace was he literally couldn't imagine ever physically hurting her again. She had recovered from the surgery before they ever left the hospital. He'd inspected her carefully to make sure no mark marred the pale perfection of her skin. His concern for her health was real, and no amount of anger could incite him to break her trust.
      He also knew she was confused by his aversion to sex lately. There was no reason they couldn't be intimate. The issue of preventing pregnancy in the future had been a simple affair, and Surgeon Dawes had encouraged them to wait at least a year before attempting another conception. He'd told Melmanon that Charity would fare better if she had time to prepare her body for the next child. Melmanon vowed not to put her health in danger. The real reason for his reticence was much more complicated.
      He wanted her to tell him she loved him.
      When a sharp knock sounded at the door, he slid the paperweight back into place on the desk and barked out, "Enter."
      The dark head of his wife poked around the heavy door, and her mischievous smile beamed at him.
      "Busy, O great emissary?" Her irreverent sense of humor had flourished in recent weeks, and he managed a tight smile of welcome.
      
"Not really, O humble emissary wife." His answering grin was somewhat subdued.

      "I came up to bring you to dinner. Everyone left a few minutes ago." She'd crossed to the desk and leaned over to tap her fingers against the rich wood. "Base to Melmanon. Melmanon, do you copy?"
      "Sorry, a little distracted."
      Charity smiled uncertainly, but she knew something was wrong. For several weeks now, she'd felt the rising tension in him, and in private, he'd started to withdraw from her. Most nights, he stayed up late and gave the excuse he was overwhelmed with work. When he did come to bed, he made an effort not to touch her. If she tried to initiate intimacy, he pushed her away, or rushed through it.
      After a few tears and a lot of thought, she was pretty sure she'd come to the root of the problem. Tonight, she vowed to do something about it. Their daughter was due soon, and she didn't want to start their family off on the wrong foot.
      Coming around the desk, she ignored his stiff posture and climbed nimbly onto his lap. She curled her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. When he remained stiff and unyielding, she drew back and looked into his eyes. If he had really been disinterested, the black of his eyes would be unrelieved. She knew he felt something intense because red flared to life in their depths.
      "Kiss me." She accompanied the demand with a hard pull on his neck.
      "Why?" He didn't give an inch, and she frowned at his surly query.
      "Because."
      No change.
      "Because I'm your wife?"
      Still nothing.
      "Because you love me."
      He didn't budge.

      "Because I love you." She saw his eyes flare, then his hands gripped her waist tightly.

      "What did you say?" There was a rough vulnerability in his words.

      "Because I love you. Isn't that a good enough reason for a kiss?" Her tone was teasing, but she was serious.
      "You love me because we have a baby now." There was a sharp bitterness there, but she also heard the unhappiness.
      "No. I love you, baby or no baby." Her hands moved around to cup his hard face. "Look inside me. Feel what I feel." She pressed her mouth to his.
      His lips were hard at first, then she felt the hard probe of his mind, the pounding sensation in her temples as he delved deep. His arms closed fiercely around her. His lips softened. After long moments of soul-stirring communion, they both drew away, and she rested her flushed face against his shoulder.
      "Hai, I do love you, Charity." There was a ragged, raw sound in his voice. "I've been so torn up. At first, I was so glad about the baby, since I knew you'd never leave me if we had a child. But then, I was so jealous."
      "Shh, it doesn't matter. I understand." She hugged him tightly. "You'll never need to worry about that again. You have my permission to read my mind whenever you need to."
      She pulled back and looked up at him. "Okay?"
      "Are you sure?"

      "Positive." She gave him a teasing grin. "Can we eat dinner now?"

      "Fine. I've been wanting to dine on you for weeks." He gave a mock growl and hefted her high as he rose from his chair.

Epilogue

      The daughter they named Hope came home three days later. Standing in the hospital waiting room, Charity felt the steely tension in Melmanon and knew he was as nervous as she. As a blue-capped nurse came forward with a tightly wrapped bundle, she fought to keep herself from squealing in delight when she took her daughter into her arms. At first, with her face covered by the swaddling cloth, Charity only had an impression of size and weight. She ruefully acknowledged their daughter definitely took after her father. Already she was twice the size of a human baby.
      Her husband's arms came around her and tugged back the fold that shielded Hope's face. She was asleep, one small fist pressed to her downy cheek. Dark black hair swirled thickly over her head and her skin was a soft blush color, with rose red lips. As if she sensed their unwavering regard, her heavily lashed eyes fluttered open. Like her father's, they had no white. Unlike her father's they were deep, dark green, and in their depths, a silver flame burned.
      "She's so beautiful." Melmanon's reverent whisper drew Hope's eyes and the silver flame flared anew.
      "She recognizes you!" Charity's heart swelled at the proof of the bond between father and daughter.
      Melmanon's voice was thick, and she heard the rasp of deep emotion when he spoke. "I love you."
      "I love you." Charity's own voice was thick with tears.
      In their daughter's face she saw the incredible miracle of life, every struggle leading to this moment of perfect cla
rity.
      "Let's go home."

Stephanie Snow

Stephanie lives in Southern California where the days are sunny and the nights are…well, not. She works (when she must), she writes (when there's nothing on TV), and she collects her government check every weekend (party!). She has a very nice family (who tells her she's adopted), a very nice boyfriend (that we're scared of), and a cute cat (that she clearly doesn't deserve). Her greatest aspiration is to someday be immortalized on YouTube. Preferably engaging in "lewd and lascivious acts" (per the police report). Sadly, the last time that happened the only people who got it on video were the crew from "COPS." You can email Stephanie if you're like Dr. Dolittle and you can talk to the animals. If not, just visit her MySpace page, www.myspace.com/stephanie_snow.