The moment my phone rings and wakes me, I’m annoyed. Deimos kept me up from the moment Edric left, and he finally dozed off long after sunrise. At first, I try to ignore the phone, but as soon as it stops ringing, it starts up again. Groaning, I roll over to Edric’s side and grab my phone off his nightstand. “What?” I growl. “What do you mean what?” Edric asks on the other side. “Oh God, I’m sorry,” I say, genuinely happy to hear his voice. “I’m just annoyed.” “Why?” “Deimos was up all night.” “Really? He’s usually such a good sleeper.” I yawn loudly and rub my burning eyes. “I think he’s teething.” “Already?” “Yes. He’s been chewing on everything, including my nipples.” Edric laughs softly. I’m sure if it were his breasts, he wouldn’t be so amused. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Did you speak to the doctor about putting him on solids?” “Uh-huh. He says no.” “I’m sorry, my love. Give it another month or two I’m sure--” “In less than two months, we’ll have our second baby. I don
Edric's POV: I knock on my dad’s door, my heart beating wildly with apprehension. “What do you want?” he calls out. Sighing, I push the door open and step inside. “Dad. Are you drunk?” “Not yet. Unfortunately.” I sit on the edge of his bed, watching as he walks over to his bar on the other side of the room and pours himself two fingers of whiskey. “Do you want some?” “It’s not even twelve yet.” Joshua shrugs, takes the bottle from the bar, and plops down in an armchair. “It’s happy hour somewhere.” “Dad. Why are you doing this to yourself?” He empties his glass and pours more whiskey. “Why shouldn’t I do it? My pack was ripped from me, all my dreams for your future has been destroyed, and to top it off, you defied my orders and let that…thing live, because that little slut of yours wanted him.” I grip my thighs tightly, focusing on the way my nails cut through my jeans and into my skin as I try to keep the anger at bay. “She’s my mate. Don’t talk about her like that.” “Then ag
Edric's POV The moment I switch on my cellphone it starts pinging. It’s not unusual after my phone’s been off for a while, but there are a lot more messages than I would normally get. I start to scroll through the texts, most of them inconsequencial, while keeping an eye on Jessica. She’s out of her depth, but enjoying the whole experience so far. She keeps looking around her with lively curiosity, and on our plane ride here, I encouraged her to ask all her questions – it helped to pass the time and occupy my thoughts. I haven’t been able to reach anyone since yesterday, and I’m worried sick about Maya. My fears don’t ease up when I read the last few texts from Stephen. “Where are you?” I frown and scroll down my message. "Answer your phone, dammit." And then. “I’m taking Maya to the clinic. She’s unwell. I suggest you get on a plane.” I stare at the message for a while, trying to process what I'm reading. The whole pregnancy has been rough on her, and it might be nothing, but then
Abbadon's POV I wake in the middle of the day. Something that hasn’t happened to me in many, many decades. I frown, trying to figure out what woke me. I went to the other side of the world, put thousands of miles between Maya and me, and it didn’t help. I can still feel her. I can always feel her. It never ends. It’s torture. It is her panic, her pain, and crushing sorrow that woke me. For a few weeks, her emotions ran between fearful, curious, sad, ecstatic, annoyed, and sometimes a tinge of desire. Just the usual range of a well-adjusted being’s emotions. She was happy, for the most part, excited about something, though what that something was I couldn’t tell. Any normal-thinking person would say that she’s excited about her baby, but all through her pregnancy, until recently anyway, she was depressed, lonely, consumed by regret and grief – she went from that to joyful in a blink. It made no sense. And now this. It’s not depression. It’s the kind of desperate sorrow and fear th
“Are you ready to take a little ride?” Edric asks while pushing a wheelchair into the room. He left an hour ago to take a shower and check in on Deimos while the Omegas cleaned me up and changed me. “I can walk,” I say in reply. “No, come on, you went through a lot, and I bet walking will be difficult right now.” He’s not wrong. I am shaky and weak, and it feels like a horse kicked me square between the legs. “Fine,” I concede, too tired to argue. Edric helps me off the bed and into the wheelchair. I wince as my butt touches the seat. “Deimos is doing well,” he says. “Cedric tells me his two bottom teeth finally broke through, and he’s a happy baby again.” “Thank you,” I say, feeling a twinge of intense longing for my older son. “Can you bring him down when we’re done? I want to see him.” “Not just yet, sweetheart, you need to rest.” “But--” “He’s not the one you should worry about right now. He’s healthy. He’s happy, and you stored enough milk to keep him well fed for at least
Abbadon's POV I land just outside the palace grounds in a piece of stinking wetland that's crawling with all manner of deadly creatures. Brett meets me in the darkness, his eyes downcast, searching for danger. “If I’m caught--” he starts. “Then lie. How’s the pup?” “They named in Warwick.” “Well, that’s very nice, but I really don’t care about his name.” Brett shrugs and folds his arms over his narrow chest. For a Lycan he’s small and weak, hell he’s small and weak for a regular werewolf. “Not doing too hot from what I hear.” He grins. “What goes around comes around, right?” I grab him by his throat. He has just enough time to release a grunt before I cut off his air supply and lift him into the air, laughing at him when his arms and legs flail about as he tries to kick and punch me. If he shifts, I’m fucked. “I will kill you,” I say and drop him in the stagnant, rotting water. “Where are they?” “The clinic,” he squeaks while he rubs his throat. God, I want to kill him. I want
Edric’s POV As per usual, I want to rip Abbadon’s head off his shoulders, but there’s an uneasy kind of friendship based on our mutual suffering growing between us. It’s very unsettling, but at the same time comforting to know there’s at least one other person who understands what it feels like to be Maya’s mate. “You should know she can’t remember you,” I whisper. “I gathered. Why did she do it?” “Our best guess? She didn’t know how to go on, so she just wiped the last five and a half years from her memory.” “Shit,” Abbadon mutters. “That has to be difficult for you.” “Yeah,” I say, not sure if he really cares. “We’re trying to…reconnect, but it’s not going well. There’s this…chasm between us that I just can’t bridge, and I’m terrified that I’ll never get her back.” What am I doing? Why am I telling this vampire of all people my biggest fear? Because he understands, it’s as simple as that. “You’ll get her back. It’s just bad timing. When the little guy is better, and she recove
The second Abbadon and I made contact everything came flooding back. The spark that ignited between us was physical and painful, and in a flash, it was all there. Everything I’ve been trying to get away from, all the pain and the memories, the very reason I tried to wipe him from my mind in the first place. I turned to rage at Edric as I always do, because it’s easier that way, but when I looked into his eyes and saw the shock and pain, I knew I could never tell him how I felt. Never burden him with my love and longing for Abbadon ever again. I made a choice on the spot. I chose to be happy, to stop pining for Abbadon. To start ignoring the loss of his presence in my life, and to stop blaming Edric for everything that’s gone wrong. I’ll force it away if I have to, but I can’t keep doing this to Edric, it’s killing him. Winston comes skulking back, peaking into the room. “Are we all good here?” “Yes,” Edric says, his arm tightening around my shoulders. “The vampire’s gone?” “Hm-hm