Broken Dove (Fantasyland #4)(142)

But due to Loretta having an injury and Finnie having a toddler, we ended our rides early enough to settle in our rooms and get a good hot meal.

Therefore, the last few days, Apollo had set about making it so he and I spent time with Chris and Élan alone before they had their baths and went to bed.

This was, I knew, his way of dealing with the Chris situation as well as simply offering the children more opportunities to get to know “us” as an “us” and that meant more than just the Apollo and me “us” but the family “us.”

Normally, I would love this.

The way Chris was remote during these times, which Apollo kept brief likely in deference to his son’s feelings, I didn’t like it all that much.

Nevertheless, I pinned a bright smile on my face and said, “Okeydokey.”

The instant he heard me say that word, Apollo smiled a warm, intimate smile that should have warmed me through and through.

It didn’t.

It simply made me feel emptier.

I didn’t let him see this.

I said my goodnight to Finnie and took Apollo’s hand.

He pulled me out of my seat and led us to his children.

* * * * *

That night after Apollo made love to me, we were lying face-to-face in each other’s arms.

I was thinking of what Apollo would look like holding a kitten. Envisioning it in my head, I felt all warm and squishy inside (or warmer and squishier, I always felt pretty warm and squishy after Apollo made love to me).

I didn’t know what Apollo was thinking.

Until he told me.

“You are very natural with Viktor,” he murmured, his voice sexy-sleepy.

I had to admit, I appreciated his sexy-sleepy voice and I wished I could focus on that.

But instead, I closed my eyes tight and pressed closer to his warmth, visions of Apollo cuddling a kitty disintegrating and visions of Apollo cradling our redheaded daughter (or son) crowding in.

They were beautiful.

And they hurt.

I opened my eyes and shared, “It’s easy to be natural with him when he’s tuckered out. I lost count of how many times he made a play toward the front of the sleigh so he could launch himself on Anguish’s back.”

“His father’s son,” Apollo murmured.

That was the truth.

He gathered me even closer and his voice was still drowsy (and hot) when he said, “Watching you with Viktor, I now understand how you find me beautiful when you see me with my children.”

Oh God.

He was killing me.

Since he was and I was fighting that feeling (and that feeling took a lot of fighting), I said nothing.

Apollo, as was his way, read that I needed him to leave it at that. I knew it when he changed the subject to ask, “I must request a favor.”

“Anything,” I whispered, the feeling in that not hidden because I meant it.

A lot.

I’d give him anything. Anything I had to give.

I just didn’t have very much to give.

But what I had was his.

“Keep an eye on Loretta and Hans. Something is brewing.”

This, too, was the truth.

It seemed a turnabout had happened.

Understandably, Loretta was a little freaked she’d fought a battle against magical creatures and sustained a war wound. The wound wasn’t terrible, it wasn’t great. There were some herbal remedies Draven was giving her that took the edge off the pain during the day, different ones that helped her sleep at night.

However, something had switched on for Hans, knowing the depths of Loretta’s loyalty to me.

At the same time, something had switched off for Loretta, knowing he didn’t want her before, the implication being perhaps he thought her frivolous and not worth his time, now something he knew not to be true (when, of course, it wasn’t true before either).

The problem was, when a ladies maid was crushing on a handsome soldier with aristocratic blood, and he didn’t return her feelings, she was screwed and not in the way she’d want to be.

But when a handsome soldier with aristocratic blood had his sights set on a pretty, spirited, loyal ladies maid and she gave him the cold shoulder, shit could happen.

Hans was getting impatient.

Visibly.

Finnie, Meeta, Bella and I had been watching as this situation was unfolding and had conferred on it repeatedly over the last few days.

We thought it was awesome.

“I’m already keeping my eye on it,” I told Apollo.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice lower, quieter, even more drowsy, and thus very sweet.

Therefore I whispered, “Goodnight, baby.”

He gave me a light squeeze and whispered back, “Goodnight, dove.”

I felt his big body relax, shifting slightly forward, some of his weight settling into mine.

And when it did, I tipped my head back.

Apollo had extinguished the lights but the fire in the grate was still blazing. Still, the weak light of the flames barely illuminated the shadows dancing across his features.

He was beautiful at rest.

He was beautiful all the time.

His beauty shined outwardly and reached deep into his soul.

He had it all to give and he wanted me to have it.

And I was taking it.

I lay in that bed in the warm safety of Apollo’s arms, having it all.