A Warm Heart in Winter(42)

Until Qhuinn pulled out. And rolled his mate over.

Usually, Blay was an elegant, lithe mover. Not right now. He landed face-up in a boneless flop, his blue eyes glassy, his mouth parted in a pant, his color high from the exertion. Grabbing one of his mate’s thighs, Qhuinn curled up the knee and angled himself back in.

This time, he went slow.

“Look at me, Blay,” he whispered.

When those beautiful peepers managed to focus, Qhuinn brought his glossy hand to his mouth. One by one, he licked his fingers, drawing them in, savoring them, extending his tongue and running it up his palm.

Blay moaned and came hard, ejaculating all over his own abdominals.

Which gave a male something to clean up, didn’t it.

But that was going to have to wait while he—

“Oh, God,” Qhuinn grunted as he found another release of his own, his head falling back, his eyes squeezing shut, his body doing what it did best.

Which was showing his true love exactly what the male meant to him, and how beautiful Blay was.





Daddy?”

As Z opened the door to his bedroom suite, the little voice brought a smile to his face, even though the night had been full of things that were far from happy. Yes, Balz had survived. And yes, the house had been patched up. But for so many reasons, Z’s soul was tossed and turned, an ocean that was raging.

And yet that one word, spoken in that voice?

Zsadist lowered himself down to his knees, even though he wasn’t yet over the threshold of his family’s private space. Suddenly, though, he didn’t care who might see him in this moment when he was so vulnerable.

Besides, he knew nothing else but what was coming across the antique rug at him.

Darling Nalla, sweet, darling Nalla, who was toddling and babbling and living her very best life, was walking toward him, her arms outstretched, her legs chugging along, her healthy body tilting from side to side. The very best part? She was beaming at him.

As if they had been separated by a century, instead of a mere hour or two.

He still couldn’t believe it. He still couldn’t believe that he and his shellan had created this miracle together—and just as wondrous was the fact that in spite of every ugliness inside of him, in spite of the filth that lurked beneath his skin, even with the slave bands that were tattooed around his neck and on his wrists, and his hideous scar . . .

“Daddy! Love you, Daddy!”

With total abandonment, Nalla threw herself at him, knowing he would catch her, secure in the faith that he would always protect her, ever keep her safe. As his huge arms went around her small, warm body, he was gentle with the pressure.

“Daddy!” In response to his embrace, her arms wrapped around his neck and squeezed tight, her soft cheek against the side of his face. “You’re back!”

Every time she saw him, she spoke in exclamations, as if his return to their suite, her bedroom, the house, the dining room, the playroom, was the single most exciting thing that had ever happened in her entire life. He kept expecting her to get over this, bracing himself for the time she got used to him or maybe didn’t love him with such distraction . . . but it didn’t seem to be happening.

He wasn’t aware of having shut his eyes until his lids opened.

Across the room, Bella was leaning back against the bureau, her arms linked over her chest, her face cast in a dreamy way.

Like the sight of him with their daughter was her favorite thing in the world.

And instantly, his seas calmed, the churning waves easing.

Z stood up, transferring Nalla’s weight into the crook of his arm. Kicking the door shut, he went over to his shellan. As he approached, she lifted her lips, and as soon as he was in range, he dropped his mouth to hers.

With a shudder, he remembered Balthazar flipping off the side of the house and falling down to the ground. Then he saw the male’s extremities twitching, the gloves patting at the snow, the soft shoes that had found those crevices in between the stones kicking at the base of legs that otherwise did not move.

The final image was of the snowflakes, few and far between, that drifted down onto the open eyes that stared out of that frozen face.

“What time is it?” Z asked roughly. Not that he really cared.

“Last Meal is coming soon. It’s about five?”

“I’m hungry,” Nalla announced.

Z smiled at his daughter. “Well, then, let’s go down and get you fed.”

“Yay!”

More with the hugs, and as Z closed his eyes again, he found himself back outside in the cold, hearing what Balz had said as he’d come back from wherever he had been—

Right back open with those lids. Yup. He was not shutting the damn things for any longer than a blink right now. And maybe for the next five years.

“I’m ready to eat, too,” Bella said as they headed for the door.

Stepping out into the Hall of Statues, Z smelled the fresh plywood from down in the sitting room, but there were other scents on the air, too, aromas of well-cooked food reminding him they were all going to get through the storm. In fact, they had gotten through it. Things were raging outside, the wind ferocious and the snow no doubt falling by inches that would turn into feet. But they were safe and warm and dry—all who lived in the house, not just his own little family.

Downstairs in the dining room, people were gathering, and as they came up to their three seats, he passed Nalla off to Bella.