Page 19

TRINITY

T he first pain hits like lightning striking through my body, shocking me awake from a fitful sleep. I gasp, clutching at my swollen belly, the sheets tangling around my legs as I struggle to sit up.

"Vael," I whisper, then louder as another wave crashes over me, "Vael!"

The door to my room flies open so quickly it's clear he wasn't far away. His tall silhouette fills the doorframe, red-gold eyes practically glowing in the darkness.

"What's wrong?" His voice is tight with concern.

"I think—" My words cut off as another spasm seizes me. I grab the bedpost, knuckles turning white. "They're coming."

He's beside me in an instant, one large hand covering mine on the bedpost, the other hovering uncertainly.

"Tell me what to do," he says, and the vulnerability in his deep voice nearly undoes me.

"Get Jackie," I manage between clenched teeth. "And send for Mireva."

He hesitates, clearly reluctant to leave my side.

"Go!" I command, attempting a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. "I'm not having these babies this second."

The next hours blur into a haze of pain and preparation. Jackie arrives first, her practical efficiency exactly what I need. She helps me into a birthing gown, arranges the room, and places a cool cloth on my forehead.

"You're doing great," she assures me, her platinum braid swinging as she moves about the room. "First babies always take their time."

Vael paces like a caged predator, his imposing frame making the spacious room suddenly feel small. Every time I gasp or moan, he's at my side instantly, looking as terrified as I feel.

"Where the fuck is Mireva?" he growls after a particularly brutal contraction leaves me breathless.

As if summoned by his curse, the healer glides into the room, her sea-glass eyes taking in the scene with serene assessment. Her green-black locs are tied back, and her bronze skin seems to shimmer in the lamplight.

"The children choose their own time," she says cryptically, setting her bag of herbs and implements beside the bed. Her cool hands press against my stomach, and I swear I can feel energy flowing from her fingers into my skin. "And they seem quite determined to meet their parents."

The labor intensifies as night gives way to dawn. I lose track of time, aware only of the rising and falling waves of pain. Through it all, Vael refuses to leave, even when Jackie suggests he might wait outside.

"I'm staying," he says with such fierce determination that no one argues further.

He sits behind me, supporting my weight against his chest, his strong arms creating a fortress around me. I've never been held like this—like I'm something precious, something worth protecting.

"You're the strongest person I've ever known," he murmurs against my hair during a brief respite between contractions. "You can do this, Trinity."

The pain returns before I can respond, more intense than before. I cry out, unable to hold back.

"That's it," Mireva encourages, positioning herself at the foot of the bed. "It's time to push now."

I bear down, squeezing Vael's hands so hard I'm certain I must be hurting him, but he doesn't flinch. My entire world narrows to this single task—bringing our child into the world.

"I can see the head," Mireva announces. "One more push."

With a primal scream that seems to come from some deep, untapped well within me, I push. There's a moment of searing pressure, then blessed relief as our first baby slides into the world.

The tiny, indignant cry that follows is the most beautiful sound I've ever heard.

"A girl," Mireva says, quickly wrapping the squirming infant in a soft cloth. "A beautiful daughter."

Jackie moves to take the baby, and Mireva hands our daughter over. "Trinity, get ready for the next."

Before I can even fear having to go through it again, my body seizes with another contraction.

The second birth happens faster than the first. Within minutes, another cry joins the first, and Mireva holds up our second daughter, slightly smaller than her sister but just as perfect.

"Two daughters," the healer announces, her usually inscrutable face breaking into a rare smile. "Both healthy and strong."

Jackie helps clean and swaddle the babies while Mireva tends to me. I lean back against Vael's chest, exhausted beyond words but filled with a strange, new emotion I can't quite name.

"Look what you did," Vael whispers, his voice thick with emotion as Jackie brings our daughters to us. "Look what you made, Trinity."

I gaze down at the two tiny faces, one with soft, dark brown hair and gold-flecked eyes, the other with wavy black hair and eyes that shift between red and amber in the light.

"We made them," I correct him softly, a tear sliding down my cheek. "Both of us."

Vael's arms tighten around me, and I feel something wet against my hair. When I tilt my head back, I see tears tracking down his ash-gray cheeks. This fearsome demon, this dangerous bounty hunter, is crying as he looks at our daughters.

Something shifts inside me then—a wall crumbling, a door opening—and I realize with startling clarity that our arrangement has become something else entirely when I wasn't paying attention.

"Would you like to hold them?" Jackie asks, already moving to place one of the bundles in my arms.

I nod, suddenly desperate to feel their weight, to know they're real.

The first baby—our firstborn—settles against my chest, her tiny fingers flexing against the blanket.

Vael carefully accepts our second daughter, his massive hands dwarfing her small form with such gentleness it makes my heart ache.

"Hello," I whisper to the babies, my voice breaking. "I'm your mother."

I stare down at these tiny creatures we've created, and something profound happens inside me. A surge of emotion so powerful it steals my breath—the same sensation I felt when I first saw them, but stronger now as I cradle our firstborn against my chest.

"She's looking right at me," I whisper, captivated by the golden eyes gazing up with an intensity that seems impossible for a newborn.

This wasn't supposed to happen. I never wanted this. I was meant to fulfill our bargain—bear Vael's children, then walk away to start my life. Freedom was the goal, not... this overwhelming feeling constricting my chest. Not this fierce, consuming love.

"They're both perfect," Vael murmurs. He hasn't moved away since the birth, still pressed against my back like he can't bear to increase the distance between us. His chin rests lightly on my shoulder as he gazes down at our daughters.

The tiny bundle in his arms makes a soft sound, and he immediately adjusts his hold, those deadly bounty hunter hands impossibly gentle. "Shhh, little one. Your father's here."

Your father. The words hang in the air between us.

Jackie finishes cleaning up and approaches the bed with a warm smile. "They'll need names." She tucks a strand of platinum hair behind her ear. "Strong ones, for strong girls."

I glance up at Vael, suddenly unsure. We'd never discussed names—another sign of how much I'd been lying to myself about my involvement in their lives.

"Liora," I say, surprising myself. The name falls from my lips unbidden, as if it had been waiting there all along. I touch the soft brown hair of the baby in my arms. "This one is Liora."

Vael's eyes meet mine, something unfathomable in their red-gold depths. "Liora," he repeats, testing the sound. His lips curl into a smile. "It suits her." He looks down at our second daughter, whose eyes now blink open to reveal their red-amber color. "And this fierce one?"

"Kaelin." The name comes as naturally as breathing. "She looks like a fighter."

"Like her mother." His voice is gruff with emotion.

Mireva, who's been quietly gathering her supplies, pauses by the bed. "Good names. Strong names." She places a hand briefly on each child's head. "These two will forge their own paths in this world."

After Mireva and Jackie leave us alone, promising to return soon to check on us, I find myself unable to take my eyes off the twins. Liora snuggles against me, serene and watchful, while Kaelin squirms in Vael's arms, already making her presence known with tiny, indignant noises.

"Here, let me..." Vael carefully transfers Kaelin into my other arm so I'm holding both girls. He slides off the bed, and for a panicked moment, I think he's leaving. Instead, he kneels beside us, one large hand spanning both tiny bodies.

"Look what you've done," he says again, voice thick with wonder.

"I never thought I'd feel this way," I admit, the confession breaking free before I can stop it. "I didn't want to be a mother."

"And now?" His eyes search mine.

I look down at our daughters. "Now I can't imagine anything else." The truth of it shakes me to my core. "They're... they're a part of me. Of us."

Vael rises just enough to press his forehead against mine, his horns carefully angled away. "I told myself this was about legacy, about duty." His voice drops to a whisper. "I was wrong."

He stands abruptly and paces to the window, his broad shoulders tense against the backdrop of Aerasak's crimson sky. When he turns back, his face is transformed by a tenderness I've never seen before.

"I'm going to build them a nursery," he announces suddenly. "Right through there." He points to the wall adjacent to my bedroom. "With a connecting door, so you—we—can reach them easily." His hands gesture animatedly. "And they'll need toys, and... what else do babies need?"

I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. This is the same demon who once told me with cold certainty that his only interest was in producing an heir. "They need time, Vael. They were just born."

He runs a hand through his tousled black hair. "I want them to have everything. Everything I never had."

And I can see through the panic that he already loves our girls as much as I do.

That cracks another wall around my heart, but I'm too drained right now to care.