Beauty's Beast(46)

“No, Alon, not yet.” The look of pain flashed across his face and pierced her heart, but she continued on. “There is something you don’t know.”

He interrupted her. “We could find a way to be together that wouldn’t threaten you. Blake and Aldara have done so. We could, as well.”

She wanted to tell him he had been wrong about that, that she had delivered the twins. That they were perfect and beautiful and mysterious. But she had to tread cautiously. She did not know how Alon would feel about discovering he was suddenly a father.

“I have to show you something first, and then, if you still wish me for your wife, I would be honored.”

She drew him up and he rose, cautious, uncertain as she led him to the closed door to the nursery. She paused with her hand on the knob and stared into his worried blue eyes.

Alon did not like the conditional acceptance. What was behind this door that she believed might change his mind about her? There was nothing, nothing in this world that could make him love her less. So why then was his heart pumping like a piston and his forehead slick with sweat? Had she found another? Was he there beyond that door?

Samantha pushed open the door with caution, as if something might spring at her as she peeked inside. Alon braced for attack, mentally choreographing his moves, including pulling Samantha behind him. His senses rose to alert, but he heard nothing and smelled only powder and clean linen. Then it reached him, the scent of his own kind. The hairs on his neck rose.

He pushed past her to meet this challenger.

“Alon,” Samantha whispered, capturing his arm in a surprisingly strong grip. “Quietly.”

If she expected to sneak up on a Ghostling, she did not know his kind. None ever found them sleeping.

Alon stood in the strange small room, sweeping the corners for some threat. His head turned, his eyes darted and he saw nothing, no one.

Samantha pushed in, standing beside him. He remained on alert.

“Where is he?” Alon asked.

“Where is who?”

“The male Ghostling. I have his scent.”

The furniture was odd. The dresser held a small plastic pad upon it, and there was a low rocker, two covered baskets and what seemed to be a topless cage made of wood that sat on wheeled legs. Blankets and bedding filled the little container. Above it hung a series of small fluffy creatures tied on strings.

He did not know what this was or why he could not see his rival. He searched the ceiling for the familiar gray smoke but found nothing.

“What is this place?” he said, now keeping his voice hushed as uncertainty filled him.

“Haven’t you ever seen one like it?” she asked.

Was that amusement in her voice? He glanced toward her and saw her smiling.

“Never.”

She snuggled against him, resting her head upon his shoulder. Clearly she perceived no threat. He allowed her to bring him forward toward the square box with wooden slats along one side and a funny little blanket draped over the other.

“Here they are,” she whispered.

They? Alon followed Samantha’s lead, leaning to peer into the raised box. Inside were two tiny pink babies, sleeping side by side with their hands clasped.

He rocketed upright and backed away. He did not stop until he hit the windowsill. Alon tried and failed to speak and succeeded only in lifting one hand to point at the infants.

Samantha crossed to him. “Alon, breathe. You’re turning purple.”

His mouth gaped like a hooked bass, and finally the air returned to his lungs.

“Babies!” he gasped.

She giggled. “Babies,” she agreed, capturing his raised hand and lacing her fingers into his.

His gaze jumped from the sleeping box to her. She smiled indulgently at him as she stroked his cheek with her free hand.

His head spun. He could swear the floor beneath him heaved, for he had to stagger a step to keep from being tossed to the carpet. Samantha held on, an anchor in his stormy sea.

Fingers of anxiety squeezed his larynx. “Mine?”

But they couldn’t be. They were pink and perfect. She shook her head and he covered his eyes as the truth tore into him. She had found another, had had another the entire time she was with him. Who was he? Where was he? And why had he left her here alone to raise these children?

“Alon, look at me.” She lifted his chin and waited until he opened his eyes. He stared down into the perfection of her face and the lovely dark calm of her eyes. “They’re not yours. They’re ours.”

And he knew it was so, could feel the truth of her words echoing in his heart, but more than that. He perceived her anxiety over his reaction to this news, her hope that he would accept them and her dread that he would not. What was happening here? He released her hands and clasped her shoulders so he could stare at her smiling face.

“Ours?”

She nodded, her sweet, lush mouth curling into a smile as pride beamed in her eyes.

“Yes. Ours. You’re a papa. This was what I had to show you. If you still want to marry me, you will not gain just a wife, but also a family.”

“But how?”

She laughed and patted his hand. “The usual way.”

Her love for him vibrated through him from the point of contact and traveled to his heart.

“But you’re alive. The birth, I don’t understand.”

She snuggled against his side, wrapping her arms about his torso as she rested her head against his chest.

“Helped to have two healers and two Seers and a Ghost Child in the family. Oh, and a midwife, too.”

He looked horrified and she realized what he thought. “Did it hurt?”

“Just the usual amount. A normal C-section and my dad healed me the same day.”

Alon gathered her up in his arms as relief swept through him. It was one of his fears, that she would want babies, babies that he did not dare to give her.

They stood that way a long time and then more questions sprang up in his mind, one after the other, like new green shoots amid a forest blackened by fire.

“What are they?” he asked. “I was born in my fighting form. And I was never pink and...” He stopped himself before he said “weak and helpless.”

She read his thoughts. “They’re not helpless. They can already roll over.”

She clasped his hand and drew him back with her to look at the twins.

“I’m not sure what gifts they have yet. But I know, whatever they are, that they will be wonderful.”

Such complete confidence she had, while he was still drowning in panic.

“What if they attack your family?”

“Don’t be silly. They’re infants.”

He knew better. The yearlings of his kind were as dangerous as hungry tigers. But then he recalled what his mother had said. They had never attacked her or their father. They never killed humans, either. How did they know?

“I could fly at birth,” he said absently, gazing entranced at the two little souls.

“I’ll keep the windows closed.” She giggled and looped an arm about his waist.

“They don’t look like me,” he said. But they smelled like him, he realized.

“Oh, no?” She lifted the closest baby, who woke with an irritated cry and blinked open its eyes. “This is Andrew.”

Samantha rested the infant on her shoulder and cradled the small, fuzzy head as she turned so Alon could see his son’s tiny face. The baby boy blinked open his eyes and stared at Alon.

“This is your papa, Andy.”

Alon gaped in astonishment at the haunting yellow eyes that were so familiar in his kind. But his eyes were that color only when he was in fighting form and never while in human form. The contrast of familiar and unfamiliar increased his anxiety.

“Take him.”

She didn’t give him time to refuse. Suddenly he had a little malleable lump of baby boy molded to his shoulder. He was warm and fragrant, with hair as soft as the belly of a rabbit. Alon’s heart squeezed with joy. He closed his eyes to savor the lightning bolt of emotion that left him full of hope and joy.

“It’s a miracle,” he whispered.

Samantha laughed. “I’m glad you think so. They need feeding every three hours.”

He wondered what they ate. Alon turned to grin at Samantha, still clasping the little bundle. “I love him already.”

Samantha blew out a breath as she nodded. Was that relief? Did she really think he could look at these babies and not want to keep them right here next to his heart?

“I still want to marry you,” he said.

She rested a hand on Andrew’s small back. “Then that is what we shall do.”

Alon swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you. That I left you alone—”

He was about to say “alone to give birth,” but she cut him off. “No more of that now. My family was with me.”