Broken Dove (Fantasyland #4)(215)

When they were gone, I moved back into the house thinking I should write Finnie a letter. Or Cora. Or Circe.

However, I didn’t go to my writing desk.

I went to the stairs, thinking it would be nice when Loretta returned from her honeymoon with Hans. I missed her. I was happy for her, but I missed her.

I then turned to thinking it would be nice when Meeta returned from her vacation sex-a-thon with Ruben.

He’d asked for her hand.

She said she didn’t want to leave me.

He said he couldn’t leave Frey.

They were at a stalemate, working it out at Ruben’s house in Houllebec in Lunwyn. This meant, even if she left to journey to me in Fleuridia, I wouldn’t see her for months.

And I hoped in those months she’d decide to give in to Ruben.

Her friendship and loyalty meant a lot to me (not to mention, she was a master at doing good hair).

But love.

Love was everything.

On this thought, I entered the room and made my quiet way to the exceptionally girlie crib with its frilly green bedclothes, the mobile hanging low over it made of padded gray wolves.

I looked down into the crib and blinked.

In it was Valentine, my daughter, with her little frizz of auburn hair and tiny nose across which danced freckles.

Though, if she opened her sleepy eyes, I would see their pure translucent jade green.

That was not what surprised me.

What surprised me was at the end of her crib was a bag of scoop-shaped Fritos, a box of ballpoint pens, a pouch made of emerald green satin, and an envelope with my name written it.

I reached in and grabbed the envelope.

Tearing it open, I slid out the letter, the words written in green ink.

Ma Colombe,

Your wolf wished you to have these so here they are.

What’s in the pouch, however, is a gift from me.

I dash this to you for things don’t ever stay boring, fortunately. Love is in the air, and with it comes its tribulations.

This time, we shall see if a woman from there can settle into life with a man from here.

I do believe our Noctorno of this world will have his work cut out for him.

But in the end, I’ve no doubt he’ll succeed.

With a little bit of meddling.

My namesake is, of course, beautiful, chérie.

As ever, I wish you happiness,

Valentine.

Smiling to myself, I slid the letter back into the envelope, removed the goodies from Valentine’s crib and set them aside. Then I touched the soft pink skin of my baby girl’s cheek.

The pregnancy was not without its normal dramas. The delivery wasn’t short. It thankfully wasn’t long. And it happened in this world by my choice.

And my choice was, this was my world and I didn’t want to leave it.

And there she was.

Proof that the future beamed bright.

In fact, I was standing by the crib of my sleeping daughter, and I was blinded by it.

Even so, I could stand there for days.

But I didn’t.

I moved to the green pouch Valentine had left. I nabbed it, shoved my fingers in the opening and pulled it wide.

Instantly, a glow emanated from the bag.

I stared at the glow a moment before I dipped my nose close and took in a breath.

Peppermint, with hints of vanilla and licorice.

It was then, I smiled.

* * * * *

Apollo fell to his back, taking me with him.

I was breathing heavily, my hand moving over his slick skin, my eyes moving across the room.

There we were in the mirrors Apollo had fitted to the doors of the wide wardrobe—Apollo on his back, his long strong muscled body stretched out on the bed, me straddling him, my forehead in his neck, my na**d torso pressed to his, our bodies connected. My skin appeared creamy in contrast to the olive tone of his.

We looked amazing.

My eyes slid to the two empty china teacups sitting on our nightstand, but they went back to the mirror when I felt his touch.

I watched his hand glide lazily over the cheek of my behind. Watching it, feeling it, I lifted my head and slid up his chest so I had his eyes.

There it was. That look. The first look he’d ever given me.

Minus one thing.

He was staring up at me with tenderness.

But no pain.

I gave him that.

Me.

Warmth that had not one thing to do with adela tea surged though me and I dropped my mouth to his.

“More?” I whispered.

“You up for it?” he whispered back.

I felt my lips smile. Then I saw the same in his eyes but I also saw more.

Tenderness.

Satisfaction.

Happiness.

Love.

I gave him that.

Me.

“Absolutely,” I murmured, pressed into him and finished, “Always.”

He slanted his head, his arms curved around me, his mouth took mine and he rolled me to my back.

Then, just like Apollo, he gave me more.

He did it right then.

And he did it again, in nine months, when our son Aether was born.