Fire and Flame (28 page)
The female’s voice softened. “Sara?”
“Yes, this is Sara.”
“I’m on my way.”
****
Brent didn’t recognize the patterns on the ceiling he woke to. He scanned the surface until he caught a glint of dark hair to the left. Derrick stood with his chin dug into his chest. A feminine gasp startled the big guy upright.
Brent’s attention snapped to the right where Sara’s golden figure hurried to his side.
“How are you feeling?” She settled onto the bed without touching him. “Does anything hurt?”
“No,” he said, only just realizing it. “Where am I?”
“The master bedroom,” she replied without a trace of misery in her tone. “Derrick was in your bed when the Healer arrived and my bed was too small for the Healer to properly fix you up.”
His focus swiveled to his friend’s lowered head. Brent’s voice went gruff. “Why was Derrick in my bed?”
Sara covered Brent’s palm, perhaps to soothe his ire. “He feels awful for what happened.”
“He should. You could have been killed!”
“We weren’t killed,” Sara argued in a calm, collected tone.
“Why was Derrick in my bed?” he repeated at a louder volume.
Derrick answered for himself while Sara made soothing noises. “I let Vanessa seduce me like an idiot. She drugged me when I was defenseless.”
“Where was Colin through this?” Brent growled.
The orange-haired witch spoke up from further in the room. “Vanessa hit me over the head with a baseball bat.”
“Where is Vanessa?”
Sara smoothed her hand over his while the three of them stood in uncomfortable silence. Brent’s attention shifted to Sara. “Princess?”
She choked on her next breath. Sara extracted her hand from his then stood. And then she paced to the side of the room away from him.
“She’s dead,” Sara replied almost inaudibly.
He could hardly believe her answer. “You—”
“Don’t hate me, Brent,” Sara exclaimed as she rung her hands in the hem of her pink T-shirt. “I thought she was involved in the attack on you. It was basically defensive.”
“Hate you? Why would I hate you, Sara?”
She drew her bottom lip between her teeth before giving her explanation. “Because she wasn’t the only witch I killed last night without remorse.”
Brent heard himself laughing before he realized he was doing it. “I definitely don’t hate you for saving us all.”
“You don’t?”
She sounded small and worried. It made his heart clench. “I’ll only hate you if you tell me I dreamt you saying you love me.”
“You didn’t dream it,” she was quick to respond.
He was vaguely aware of his friends quietly stepping outside as Sara joined him at the bed. She took hold of his hands again as she held his gaze with her wonderfully blue irises.
“I love you, Brenton Conley,” she clearly stated. “And I have news.”
His scoff scraped his throat. “Nothing can top that news.”
“Don’t be so sure.” She grinned in a mischievous way that shot desire down his body. “The Healer found something when she fixed up my hands and feet.”
He held his breath for the bad news.
“We’re pregnant,” she declared, beaming more beautifully than he’d ever seen. “So now you’ll simply have to make an honest woman out of me.”
Brent’s rich laugh filled the room. “I’m going to enjoy making you honest, filthy rich, and the dirtiest little princess in the entire country.”
Epilogue
Indianapolis - near future
“Back to you, Sara.”
Sara gave the camera her cheeriest smile. “Thanks, Susannah.” Her lips lowered into a grave expression in light of the upcoming news on the teleprompter. “In national news, there are still no leads in the string of industrial fires that have plagued Grand Rapids, Lansing, and Detroit, Michigan. Authorities believe the disasters that have claimed the lives of twelve may be linked to a rivalry between two competing automobile part manufacturers, perhaps owned by organized crime families in the state. However, few are coming forward with information. If you can provide any assistance, please visit our web site for information on how to contact the investigating team. Now, a quick look at your weather for the weekend.” Sara’s smile returned in time to face the green screen to her right. “Steve, is it going to be a good one?”
The camera indicators switched. Sara caught a glimpse of a familiar face in the gloom at the back of the studio. Brent’s glimmering irises soon moved into a bright area behind the glass. He appeared to be a foot and a half taller than she recalled him being.
The increased height was quickly attributed to the black-haired toddler smacking chubby hands atop Brent’s unruly hair. Brent carefully bent so he could grab hold of a golden-haired four-year-old boy’s hand before the little one ran straight for her. The boy watched with a grim expression on his little face as Brent made a gesture for him to be quiet then pointed to the nearby stroller. So like his father, the boy dutifully took up the spot at the handles of his sister’s conveyance.
“It looks like this weekend is going to shape up for a perfect picnic in the park for you and your precious ones, Sara,” the weatherman declared in a louder volume that caught her attention away from what truly were her precious ones.
Sara’s cheeriest smile came easily as she gazed into the camera’s lens. “Sounds great, Steve. We can’t wait. That’s all for tonight’s report. This is Sara Conley wishing you and yours the fondest of nights, Indianapolis.”
She remained smiling long after the
on air
sign went dark. Then she undid the microphone with practiced motions. Brent and the stroller were halfway to her when she made it around the large desk.
Her husband’s features were crinkled with mirth as he grabbed the boy atop his shoulders by the waist, swinging him down to the floor. “We came to pick up Mommy for our special night.”
Sara’s right eyebrow lifted slightly. “Special night? What special night? Our anniversary isn’t for another month.”
Brent leaned into her, pressing his lips firmly against hers. Sara responded by slipping her tongue within so she could give him one of the “angel kisses” he enjoyed. A low noise escaped his chest. Rather than do what he ordinarily did after making that sound, Brent drew back.
“You know exactly what special night this is,” he said with a faux scolding tone.
She couldn’t help but grin. “Maybe I need a hint. It’s been a long day.”
“Tonight is the five year anniversary of the night you told me you loved me.”
“Oh, that.” She rolled her eyes as if it were nothing.
“Yes,
that
. That was the very first of the best nights of my life.” Leaning forward yet again, he whispered in her ear. “And tonight will be yet another.”
A tug at her skirt interrupted all sorts of naughty thoughts swirling about in Sara’s head. A small voice followed it with, “Mommy, can we get ice cream?”
Sara gazed down at the expectant blond-haired boy. “Come here, Fin.” She held out her arms for him to climb up. “Oh, you’re such a big boy. Your granddaddy would have been so proud of you.”
“Granddaddy Fintan? Like my name?”
Brent ruffled the boy’s hair then took over the weight. “Exactly.”
Fin gestured at the snoozing black-haired baby in the stroller. “And Sonya was named for Grandmama?”
“Uh huh,” they replied in chorus.
“So what was Dylan named for?”
Sara lifted the toddler into their little circle. “Dylan was named because your daddy liked it.”
“I like it too,” Fin beamed as he reached to give his brother a hug.
“Ouwie,” the younger boy grumbled. “Too tight, Fin.”
Together they carried the children to the door. Brent took the lead with the stroller while Sara and Dylan discussed what kind of ice cream they’d get. Once in the Lexus, the boys went quiet so their parents could talk.
“The fires are getting worse,” Sara remarked with a small sigh.
Brent nodded gravely. “The Great Lakes Region could do with a little of our calming influence, don’t you think, princess?”
She gave him a mischievous smile. “I do, priest. It looks like our romantic getaway to Bermuda is going to have to wait until after a visit to Lake Michigan.”
“Oh, surely we can arrange both.” He pretended to pout. Brent’s fingers soon slipped around over her knee for one of his stimulating squeezes. “We are independently wealthy with countless godparents eager to watch the angels.”
Sara turned her head on the headrest for a gaze into the back seat where the angels sat strapped into their safety seats. A sullen look formed in Fin’s eyes because they were taking too long to get his ice cream.
Though he had her hair and eyes, he was every inch his father’s son. In contrast, Dylan’s bright smile and gleaming green eyes turned bashful when he realized Sara was looking at him. He played up the shyness until she tickled his foot. Then she stared at the snoozing girl, black-haired like her father but with her eyes, already she was breaking hearts at a year old.
“It’s not that we lack in babysitting options. It’s that I’d miss them too much to be gone for long.”
She caught Brent’s attention when she swiveled back. His grave expression was no longer because he hurt. Sara set her palm to his cheek, gently stroking his freshly shaved skin with her thumb.
Quietly he said, “I love you, princess.”
“And I love you, priest. You’re a dream come true.”
A word about the author...
Anya Breton is a web monkey, Apple fangirl, and crazy cat lady that is mildly obsessed with rubber chickens and wholly believes that Peeps are evil. (Yes, the marshmallow candy.)
She was born in New England into a family of weirdoes. Being an only child, she quickly learned to amuse herself with quirky pastimes. It was only inevitable that she'd turn to reading and writing. After writing fanciful (and sickeningly sweet) love stories, Anya branched out into erotica, paranormal romance, young adult, and urban fantasy.
She currently resides in the American Midwest with her cats and a good man.
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