Shadow's End (Elder Races, #9)(94)

They had upset Bel. He snarled wordlessly at the trio.

Eyes widening, Aryal threw out her hands. “What?! You said it was an emergency!”

“Yes,” he snapped. “I’m sorry.” He turned to Bel. Her mouth hung open again. “I’m sorry,” he told her. Unable to resist her beautiful, astonished face, he kissed her soft mouth quickly. “I’m still calming down. Aryal and Quentin, get out. Peter, come here.”

Quentin and Aryal backed out of the apartment.

“Just you wait,” the harpy said bitterly to her mate as they left. “Like everything else, somehow this is going to end up being my fault.”

Quentin retorted. “Seriously? Somehow, like everything else, this has become all about you?”

“That’s what I’m talking about!”

Their arguing voices faded.

Graydon met Bel’s brimming gaze. Self-consciously, he told her, “I’ll acknowledge I might have overreacted a bit.”

Her face shook. Oh gods, she wasn’t going to burst into tears again, was she?

Laughter pealed out of her. Bright and silvery, the sound danced around the room, like bubbles floating in a glass of champagne. Hanging on his neck, she laughed so hard tears came to her eyes.

It was such a happy sound, it took him over completely. Entranced, he soaked up every delicious, intoxicating moment.

The healer, Peter, had relaxed. Laconically, he said, “I’m pretty sure someone who laughs that hard is going to make their medical emergency worse. Maybe burst a spleen.”

Bel hiccuped and stared at Graydon accusingly.

After a moment, he offered her a small, sheepish grin. “There could have been one. You never know.”

She broke into peals of laughter again.

“Looks like my work here is done,” Peter said. “You’re welcome.”

When he started to edge toward the broken door, Graydon told him, “Not so fast, bucko. Come over here.”

Sobering, Peter strode over and squatted beside them. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Despite himself, Graydon bristled at the other male’s nearness.

Wiping her face, Bel sobered too. Stroking Graydon’s arm, she told Peter, “Nothing wrong, exactly. I just think I might be p-pregnant, but I can’t tell for sure and we both panicked. Can you help us?”

Like virtually everybody else in the Tower, Peter’s expression softened as he looked at her. “Obviously, I’m not an obstetrician. My specialty is acute trauma—all of the Tower’s on-call healers are essentially ER doctors. But I might be able to give you a simple yes or no, so you can at least sleep tonight. Then you can follow up with a doctor of your own choice. How does that sound?”

“Okay, yes,” she said. “Thank you.”

Peter looked at Graydon. “If I’m going to scan her, I’m going to have to touch her. Get in control of yourself, or leave the room.”

With an unpleasant shock, he realized he was growling, low in his throat. Bel hooked fingers underneath his chin and turned his face back to her.

“Hey, you’ve got this,” she said softly. “You can do it. Don’t drive the nice healer away, especially after you were the one to call him here—stop that, don’t look at him. Eyes here, Graydon. Look at me.”

He concentrated on the sound of her voice, the delicate rose color of her cheeks, the expression of love and lingering laughter in her eyes.

“That’s it, I’m done,” said Peter. As his head snapped around, the healer stood and backed away rapidly, hands up. “All I did was a quick scan—a peek in and out again.” As they stared at him, the healer grinned. “Congratulations to both of you. You are, in fact, pregnant. I couldn’t be happier for you.”

Pregnant. Or, as Bel had said, Preg. Nant.

“Holy shit,” he whispered.

He met her incredulous, joyful gaze. She started shaking again, and burst into tears. As he snatched her close, she started to laugh too. She threw her arms around his neck.

“I’ll let myself out, shall I?” Peter muttered. “It’s not a big deal, especially since there’s just an open doorway to walk through. I’ll pull the pieces of the door sort of back into place for you.”

Now that the other male was well and truly leaving, Graydon ignored him and concentrated on kissing Bel breathless.

Preg. Nant.





TWENTY-ONE


Healing did happen, over time. So did happiness.

Graydon would never stop missing Constantine, but over the next several weeks, the nightmares did eventually fade.

He and Bel began to search for a small house outside the city, with a big private yard, where they could go sometimes for weekends and vacations. When they found a charming little Cape Cod cottage, she moved what furniture and artwork she wanted to keep into it.

At her request, he also took her shopping so she could buy several pairs of jeans. He didn’t have room to consider that she did it only to humor him. She was too transparently gleeful when she slipped on her first pair of Levi’s. As he watched her simple, grinning pleasure, he began to realize Ferion hadn’t been the only one who had lived a life constricted by a narrow role to play.

After they went shopping, he took her out to Ruby’s Diner for lunch. To his mild surprise, nobody recognized her. She had wound up her distinctive hair into a bun and tucked it into a Yankees’ baseball cap. She ordered apple pancakes and coffee, and polished off the meal while she laughed at Ruby’s ribald sense of humor, and it was easy.