Conclave (Devil's Night, #3.5)

by Penelope Douglas

Lev smiles at me, his eyes peeking out from under his black hair, and he rises, leaning over me. “At your service anytime, Miss Fane,” he whispers.

“I love you.” I pause and then add, because I can’t help myself, “Mr. Fane.” “Oh, Jesus, fuck,” he grumbles and sits up. “I need a drink.” Huh? I hold tighter, damn-near falling off as he tries to get up from the chair. “Off me, now,” he orders. “I need a drink, Rika. Many drinks.” I slide to the floor, the carpet scraping against my ass. I wince. “Hey.” He pops the cigar in this mouth, shaking his head, and storms for the door. Rika Crist just doesn’t sound right. He’s going to lose this one. “We only have a weeks’ supply of food on this boat!” I yell as he opens the door. “So, don’t wait too long to come to terms with this!”

“What’s going on?” “He’s crazy,” Bryce said. “He can’t work with people!” I laughed under my breath. I heard Kai sigh, because he was as much at his wits’ end as I was. Like, seriously. No one here could think for themselves. You had to tell them every little goddamn thing, and God help you if you had to give them more than one instruction at a time, because their brains would fucking short out because they couldn’t remember all that AND remember to breathe at the same time.

“He’s temperamental, but he’ll compromise,” Kai explained to Bryce. “We’ve been through this before.” “Compromise?” Bryce whined. “He threw an ax at my head!” “If I’d thrown it at your head, I would’ve hit your head,” I growled low. There was silence, and then I heard Bryce’s voice. “I’m outta here, man.”

I immediately spotted Banks sitting on some chairs, holding her and Kai’s son. Madden. Mads, for short. Mads Mori. Poor kid sounded like an assassin.

I was going to be such a screw up. I’d do so many things wrong with her and this kid. “Six, seven, eight…” But fuck, I was going to love them. I didn’t care about being perfect. I just wanted to be everything my father wasn’t. I wanted this with her a million more times, and no matter all the shit that still lived inside me, I already knew I was better than him. “Nine, ten…” The doctor pulled back, Winter collapsed, and I heard a shrill cry fill the room. “It’s a boy!”

“What does he look like?” Winter whispered up at me, her voice raspy. I smoothed my hand over both their heads. “Like next year he’ll be running around in the fountains with us,” I told her. “He’s perfect, baby. Black hair, a little pissed off…” She snorted, and I thought about what he’d look like in a year when he was walking and running and laughing and playing. I wanted the noise. I wanted it all over the house. I wanted it filling our lives from here on out.