Dreaming Of A Blood Red Christmas (Kindred, Book 8.1) (8 page)

Ah, but my son does not eclipse his mother. Nothing could dim her Light.

"You're even more beautiful," I whisper and lean in, laying a soft, reverent kiss on her parched lips.

Immediately I offer her a drink from a straw in a glass of water. I must ensure she is taken care of. After all she is not only my world, but my babies' world now too.

"Are you ready for the next?" the doctor says, still at the other end of the bed.

"Bring it," Lucinda declares and the doctor rubs on her lower belly, somehow encouraging my daughter to join us, as I pick up our son and cradle him in one arm, holding my wife with the other.

This time Lucinda knows what to expect and manages the delivery with aplomb. The pain no less excruciating, but the goal now one she can envisage. Within minutes my daughter has arrived.

I think my legs are going numb, because I need to sit down in a chair. My daughter is blindingly gorgeous, without a doubt she will take after her mother and not I. Brown hair, I think, although it is hard to tell with all that birthing muck. Amisi quickly towels her off and then wraps her up securely, placing her on Lucinda's chest, like she did our son.

Lucinda murmurs words of greeting, letting the baby grip her finger tightly. It astounds me the child can make such a motion at such a tender age. She holds on for dear life, as though she knows this woman is her salvation.

I am not sure what the doctor does then, or what happens in the room, or where Amisi goes. It is as though the world spins hurriedly around me and I am a statue in the centre of a brightly coloured storm. An ache has started in my chest and I rub it absently. Staring into the eyes of my son, whilst flicking adoring gazes at my daughter as she snuggles in the embrace of my wife.

I have a family. Oh, my vampyres have long been a family of sorts, but this is decidedly different. I have a family.

A wife. A son. A daughter. Me. A vampyre, given this most glorious gift.

I close my eyes and say a prayer to Nut. Thanking our goddess. Words are not enough, so I send her what I can of my Light, willing her to understand my gratitude.

When my eyes open Lucinda is watching me and we are alone in the room with our babies. But not for long. Nut appears. Not that I can see her, I can just tell. Laying a blessing on each child's head, a blazing of bright white Light that hovers over their bodies for a fraction of a second, and then leaving us with only a sense of calm.

I will myself to get up off the chair I had obviously collapsed into and sit on the side of Lucinda's bed. We stare at each other for several long moments, neither able to express the love and awe we feel inside our chests. But I know she feels it too. I see it in her eyes. In the wonder-struck look on her face.

"Are you all right?" I ask eventually.

"Never better," she says with a genuine smile.

I shake my head, in awe of my wife all over again.

"You were magnificent," I say, and dear God, my voice cracks.

"So were you," she replies with such pride.

"What on earth did I do?"

"Aside from growling throughout the entire thing?" she teases and my vampyre reminds her he is present with a flash of magenta from my eyes. "You both did well." She amends her statement to appease the dragon-within. "You stuck it out. You do know that Marcus has lost a whole heap of money."

I frown. What the hell?

Lucinda chuckles, readjusts her hold on our daughter and explains.

"He bet you'd have to leave the delivery room, because your vampyre would either attack the doctor or go crazy with all the blood."

She is smiling a mile wide at the vision, little does she know how close we actually were.

"I wouldn't leave you," I say instead of divulging that snippet.

"No," she agrees simply. "And now we're a family."

I have to kiss her, I only wish I could hold her in my arms. But for now a kiss will do.

I move in, position the babies so they are safe, but included in our huddle, and then lower my lips to hers. She tastes of life. Of love and wild passion. Of miracles and wishes and Light and rainbows of colours. She tastes divine.

"
Je t'aime, ma douce
," I murmur against her soft lips.

"
Je t'aime, papa
," she whispers back, making me smile.

We both look down at our miracle babies. I had forgotten to check, so with infinite care I lift the upper lip on my son. No fangs. Actually, no teeth at all.

Lucinda snorts in amusement. "Thank God they're not toothy already." She shudders and presses her free hand to a breast. Ah.

"But what are they?" I ask. "They have heartbeats."

"And Light," she adds.

I carefully unwrap my son's blanket and stare down at his naked form. He's asleep, but I am not sure how long he will suffer the indignity of being exposed. This one has loud vocals.

"Look there," Lucinda says, voice hushed, possibly still in awe.

I glance at where she is indicating and see a faint outline of something along his right arm. It is hard to tell what it is, it is almost translucent, extremely difficult to detect. Multiple colours are hinted at, in a
Sigillum-
like design, from his shoulder to his wrist.

Lucinda has unwrapped our daughter and found a mirror image, vaguely visible on her left arm.

"
Sigillums
," I say.

"Not the
Lux Lucis Tribuo
one," Lucinda points out. No, that is a star-shaped geometrical design. But I must admit these vague representations are similar in that they too are geometrical. But where the
Lux Lucis Tribuo Sigillum
is on the right cheek and a star, these are on the arms and, for now, indecipherable.

I shrug my shoulders, I do not have an answer.

"Maybe it's part of me and part of you," Lucinda suggests, lifting her hand to the
Sigillum
that appeared on her neck when I marked her with mine, erasing Gregor's. It is uncannily similar, but much brighter and obviously in a different location.

"Yes," I agree. "It could well be." And it would make sense with the fact that her Light and my
Sanguis Vitam
became entwined during the deliveries.

We have marked our children. Not only do they carry our genetics, but no matter what they end up being, they also carry our supernatural marks.
Sigillums
must be accepted, you cannot mark another as yours without their consent. These are wee babies, but as I look at their beautiful faces, watch their chests rise and fall with each breath. Hear their hearts beating in tandem, and feel that Light that fills them up wrap around my soul. I
know
they accepted ours.

We are truly a family, bonded together, blood-kin in its truest, purest form.

I smile. It feels too big for my face. My eyes lift to Lucinda's and I cannot express how elated I feel. The world is a most magnificent place.

I look back down at my son, my heart fit to bursting, and with an emotionally laden voice say, "Hello, Lucien."

Lucinda matches my grin with one as wide as mine, looking down at our daughter and softly saying, "Hello, Éliane."

Our "light" and our "sun." Perfection.

Our little Christmas treasures.

"Welcome to the world," I whisper. And what a world it is.

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Find out more about Nicola Claire books at:

nicolaclairebooks.blogspot.com

The response to the
Kindred Series
has been fantastic and humbling. So many readers have taken the time to get in touch and let me know how much they fell for Lucinda and Michel. It is truly a most wonderful feeling to know others see your creation in the same light as you. So, with this in mind, and the fact that almost every person who wrote a review on Amazon pleaded for more, I decided you all deserved it... and
Dreaming Of A Blood Red Christmas
was born.

This is not meant to answer
all
the questions I purposely left unanswered at the end of the series, but only tie up those little loose ends I'd already written inside my head, but couldn't quite get into
Kiss Of The Dragon
.

I hope you enjoyed it, and thank you.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

For loving them like I do.

Nicola Claire

I'm a Kiwi, through and through. I had the wonderful luck of growing up in the North Island of New Zealand, or "The Land Of The Long White Cloud", (the Māori call it Aotearoa). I've lived up North, down South, and in the "Big Smoke" Auckland City, all of which feature at some point in my stories.

Five years were spent as a Paramedic in Auckland, so I know that city pretty well. From its spectacular beauty, to its hidden secrets, I've probably caught a glimpse of it all. And that's why I choose Auckland as the setting for most of my books. Even though I've moved on, the City Of Sails managed to give me lasting memories of a vibrant, lively, young and slightly gritty place - what more could you want for the backdrop of a good novel?

Mixed with my time living overseas in England and Germany when I was young, New Zealand has shaped me, moulded me, into the writer I am today. We Kiwis have a sense of humour, are loyal to a fault, are passionate about our country, and are pretty down to earth kinds of folks. I hope that some of that abiding love comes through in the worlds I've created in Auckland, New Zealand in all of my books.

The first memory I have of writing a "book" was in Primary (or Elementary) School. I was so proud of that story about a naughty little monkey and still have the stapled together booklet hidden away somewhere. Throughout school I wrote countless little tales, allowing my imagination to run free from time to time, but it wasn't until after I'd had children, lived life a little, seen a bit of the world, that I felt ready to really let those creative juices flow.

My first attempt at an adult full length novel was a science fiction story about aliens. Yeah, I know, a rather big undertaking. Suffice it to say, that story will never see the light of day. But I had the bug, I wanted to get some of those fantasies swirling around inside my head out. Even if it was just for me.

So I read, and read, and read some more. I analysed what genre I liked best, and what exactly it was I liked about it. Then I worked out what others liked about that genre too. At some point it all fell together and the first four books of the Kindred Series came to mind. I just started tapping away on the keyboard one morning and didn't stop for four or five months.

All the practice runs from when I was just a little kid, throughout all the daydreaming fantasy stories I'd played out in my mind, to my failed - but highly constructive - attempt at Science Fiction, paid off. I found my writing voice and haven't looked back since.

My latest book is set in my all time favourite genre: Paranormal Romance. I'm a romantic at heart, but an even bigger sucker for the supernatural. I crave a good love story, but adore the rich and complex and imaginative worlds the paranormal can provide. I mean, let's face it, the options are almost limitless. As long as the make-believe world you're creating is really quite believable in the end.

And OK, maybe people who wield the earth's elemental powers and were created by gods is not really believable, but I guarantee the experiences they have are. And not only that, despite those fantastical and exciting abilities there is also a rich world backed by Greek mythology to give a sense of depth, and it's all rounded out with a little quantifiable science fiction to give an unusual twist to the storyline in the end.

I wholeheartedly support author J.R. Ward's premise of "plausible surprises" in my books, even the mystical needs to make sense, and preparing the reader for the shock and awe to come is an important part of the writing process.

So, keep an eye out for my new Paranormal Romance series: Elemental Awakening. Love may not always be enough, but you can be sure there is a whole lot of it in "The Tempting Touch Of Fire."