Page 17 of Taken by the Twins (Sombra Demons #7)

EPILOGUE

MALPHAS

A s the first human-demon spawn to be born in this age—the only human-demon child that any living Sombran knows of—it is only fitting that my Shannon and mine’s child will arrive on the night of the gold moon.

We knew that they would. The doppelseers foretold our spawn’s arrival, knowing that the twin moons of Sombra would be out, the gold one heavy and round as it shed some illumination on our world of shadows. They didn’t know the exact gold moon it would be, but every demon can sense the approach of the gold moon instinctively.

After all, during the gold moon, mated males experience mate sickness to a certain degree, whether they are bonded or not. They need their females, and any bond between them is strengthened by an intimate touch when the gods shine down on us through the power of the mystical moon.

Petting your female’s cunt. Tasting it. Leaning back as she takes your cock into your mouth, pleasuring it with her tongue… there are ways to be intimate with your mate to silence the mate sickness without making it so that your mate will carry your spawn. But if you do choose to claim your female when the gold moon is at its peak, you will conceive.

I thought my Shannon knew that. With my essence running through her veins, telling her all she needed to know about her Sombra male, I thought she understood. She was the one who welcomed me into her cunt before our deadline ran out that fateful gold moon. I would’ve ended up, trapped in Sammael’s enchanted chains, tossed in the demon duke’s dungeons by Glaine if Shannon hadn’t claimed me with her words, then her cunt later that night.

Now it has been many cycles since I laid my beautiful human out on her bedding, giving her my cock, and creating an immortal bond that will tie us together for the rest of our immortal lives. It has been just as long since the seed I planted in her womb blossomed into something precious. Something that is part of Shannon, part of me, and the spawn I will do anything to protect.

I worship my flower. I did from the moment she ripped me out of my bathtub, summoning me to her human realm, and seasoning me with sage before serenading me by banging one of her cooking utensils against the metal vessel. There isn’t anything I won’t do for her, and seeing her cradle her belly with one hand while squeezing tightly to mine with the other, I pray to the gods above to allow me to take her pain so that she can birth our child easily.

It’s possible. Like how we have a bond that stretches between us, allowing the essence exchange, if Shannon wills her pain to me, I can shoulder it.

We already have a connection. Her colorless hand is wrapped around my red one, the way she’s gripping me reminiscent of the red-and-white minty treats that Shannon slipped into my oversized sock—no, I correct, my stocking—that I left out for Santa Claws again this year. She knows they are my favorite, and while I am still rather worried about a jolly prowler sneaking into our quarters while we are asleep, I celebrated the human holiday with her while waiting for our spawn to arrive.

Now they are almost here, and as my mate squeezes my hand tightly before throwing her head back, moaning, I can’t wait to meet them.

After another short cry, my mate relaxes against the bedding before gritting out, “I really hope I’m not breaking your fingers.”

“You are fine, my mate,” I coo, soothing her.

“I mean, you’d deserve it, Mal. You and your magical shadow dick did this to me in the first place, I’ve been knocked-up for two Christmases now, and if that’s not bad enough, this kid of ours is too solid to be shadow.” My mate blows air out through her nose, rubbing the bottom of her belly. “ Fuck . These contractions suck ass.”

“Give your pain to me.” My voice is pleading, and I stay solid myself so that she can grip my hand fully. As my shadows, a touch would give her pleasure, but the way she is sweating along her hairline, I don’t know if that would be enough to overwhelm her discomfort. No. It’s better that I take it, and Shannon focuses on birthing our child. “Through our bond… without essence… I shall take it from you.”

She narrows her pretty blue eyes at me. “You can do that?”

“I can try.”

She exhales roughly, staring up at the ceiling, watching the golden moonlight stream down from one of the holes. “Just don’t leave me, Mal. That’s all. And if I get nasty when I start to push, just remember that I love you.”

Reaching out with a shadowy claw, careful not to scratch her cheek, I turn her so that she has no choice but to look at me. “I adore you, my Shannon. I always will.”

Her eyes glisten. After spending so long at my mate’s side, it no longer unnerves me that they’re dim. In fact, I startle when I approach one of my fellow demons since glowing eyes staring out of a mass of shadows belong to Sombra, and I? Malphas? I belong in Shannon’s world with my mate.

We are in Sombra now. As soon as Shannon recognized the signs that our spawn was coming, we opened up the pathway that leads from Jericho to Nuit. It’s instinctive now, after all those trips we’ve taken to meet with the healer, and I was carrying my mate to the house I keep in the village within minutes.

Apollyon and Lilith saw our approach. Lilith came with me so that she could help get Shannon comfortable, while Apollyon went in search of Azazel. That was hours ago, and both the clanmother and clan leader have left us to our privacy. Azazel keeps checking on my mate, watching her cunt closely, waiting for a sign that our spawn is crowning before disappearing into the front room.

That, I fear, is my fault. I am her male. Since our bonding, I am the only one who should be blessed with the sight of her cunt, and it took me many cycles to get past my jealousy over the healer needing to look for himself.

I’ve been good. But between the way his gold eyes gleam as he ducks his head near my Shannon’s spread legs and her pained, muffled panting as another contraction hits her, I’ve found myself growling under my breath in a way that seems to unnerve Azazel.

I have no choice but to swallow the sounds when Shannon’s grip on my fingers actually seem to mangle them. “Okay. Okay . I don’t think that was just a contraction that time. I think this baby is coming now .”

“Azazel,” I bellow.

The healer appears in an instant. He’s in his shadows, flying through the open doorway, shifting to his demon form as he crouches down in front of my mate. After a previous warning, he keeps shadows woven around his lower half, but he also adds them as a layer of his claws so that he can reach up and wait to receive our spawn.

I’ve never watched one be born before. And, my attention solely on my mate as Azazel instructs her to push when he tells her to, I don’t see it happen now. I do, however, hear the high-pitched keening cry as our spawn comes into the world.

“It is a female,” Azazel announces as he gathers the child up in his shadows.

For a moment, Shannon closes her eyes. Lying back on the birthing nest, she shudders out a relieved breath, then asks in a raw voice, “Where is she? Can I see her?”

Azazel pauses, his back to us. The healer hesitates, and then he murmurs, “Lilith has offered to act as my help. She will clean the afterbirth off and swaddle your spawn while I tend to you, Shannon. Then you can meet your babe.”

I want to do so, but I’d prefer to see the healer examine Shannon and make sure my flower is doing well after the birth. I trust the clanmother implicitly, and after spending the last year visiting Nuit, so does Shannon.

While Azazel takes care of my mate, I drop a kiss to her sweaty brow. “You did amazing, my Shannon.”

She looks tired, yet exhilarated. “I’m so glad she’s here. But just in case I haven’t told you a million times already? You want to fuck on the gold moon? Use your hand, babe. Kay? I’m one and done.”

“One spawn is enough for me,” I promise.

“Good.”

Shannon closes her eyes, resting while we wait for Lilith to bring our child back to us. Azazel finishes first, declaring that Shannon will need to take three separate herbs, two potions, and sleep as much as possible as a new mother, but other than that, she will recover well.

That is the best news. I’m soaring from hearing that—and that’s when Lilith shuffles into the room, holding our newly clean spawn, wrapped up in a blanket.

She murmurs her congratulations before offering the spawn to Shannon. Then, as the blanket falls away from our daughter’s face, both the clanmother and Azazel slip out of the room.

And I suddenly understand.

Our daughter has my eyes. Bright and gold and glowing healthily, they reflect against her pale skin.

No. Not pale.

Colorless.

I am red. Shannon is white. She would joke that our spawn would be pink. She is part Sombran so, no matter her color, I expected she would be made up of shadows.

She has none .

Shannon chuckles, a finger going to the tiny nub on our daughter’s brow. “Looks like Amy won the pool. They’re not fully developed horns, not yet, but she definitely won’t pass for human. ‘Course, her eyes are glowing, too. See, Mal? She has your eyes. Your eyes and my skin tone. Ooh, see these tiny little tufts of hair, too? She might just be blonde like her mom.”

My lips quirk upward, a small smile at her obvious delight—even as my heart starts pounding.

Shannon doesn’t realize what this means. When she delves into my essence, she will, but for now, I understand the concern written on Lilith’s features, and the hesitation on Azazel’s before they left us alone in our quarters.

I understand it, and I refuse to acknowledge it.

This is our spawn, and no matter her appearance, I will love her always.

Azazel bows his head. “I will inform Apollyon that we have a new villager in Nuit.”

I would have expected that Lilith would go and tell her mate; both that our child is here, and that she resembles Duke Haures’s unique appearance. But if Azazel needs a reason to leave our quarters, that is fair enough.

Besides, there are things I must discuss with my mate that I’d prefer no one else overhear…

I know my mate. Shannon has explained to me her reasons behind the two of us staying in Jericho, the mortal village where she has no clan but for the coffee shop she visits and the bookstore that Loki’s female gifted to mine. I am immortal. After the essence exchange, my mate is, too. She will never age. She will never get sick. Never die unless either Duke Haures commands it, or she chooses to end her existence.

She won’t. In all my years, I have never met one who is as full of magic as my mate, or with a thirst and joy for life. But that means she will spend the rest of her days in Sombra. Until she must leave, once it is clear that she is immortal, she wants to linger in the human world.

Our child changes everything. The wee female will need her mother, and though Duke Haures’s first law makes it clear that I must forever be Shannon’s secret in the mortal world, how can she hide our child?

She might have been able to conceal that she was expecting, but depending on what features of mine our spawn had, and which belonged to her beautiful mother, she would have to be hidden away to keep from breaking Duke Haures laws—and catching the attention of some of the crueler humans who live in the mortal realm.

There are those in Sombra who will hate my mate and our daughter because of their human blood. Now I see that she looks nothing like a Sombra demon at all—with the exception of the most powerful of us… and before he was the duke, Haures was left to the shadows because of his lack of any. I don’t deny that demons can be as cruel as humans, and I only hope that Nuit is free of those bigots.

If not, I have learned much about hunting from Nox. To provide for my mate when we are in Nuit, I barter my art and skills, but Nox reminded me that I have a family to protect. This close to the edge of the shadows, if a demonic creature—one without any essence of their own—attacks, I need to be able to shield Shannon, plus our new daughter.

I will. She may be different from the rest of the worlds, both demon and human, but she is ours, and she is precious.

Shannon’s brow is furrowed. Her heart has slowed its drumming to a more content beat. Our spawn is wrapped in a soft dark yellow blanket that Shannon packed in her bag before we left our home. She said it reminded her of my eyes, and now it matches the only spot of color on our tiny daughter.

“She’s beautiful,” whispers my mate.

I brush a claw over her forehead. “Of course, my flower. She is your spawn.”

Exhaustion has stolen much of my Shannon’s sharp tongue. Her eyes are half-closed, a hum in her throat as she holds our spawn close to her chest. Instead of teasing me, she nods slowly. “She’s yours too, Mal. She’s ours, baby.”

Baby. In Shannon’s human language, the word refers to spawn, but when she uses it for me, it’s as much a term of endearment as fiore mi in Sombran is. She is my flower, I am her ‘baby, and our spawn will be?—

“Alana.”

“What’s that?”

Shannon has a list a hundred names long, all of the possible names of our child. She has them separated by male and female, and of them, only a handful are my suggestions. Part of me was still so surprised that this beautiful creature is my mate. That she lies with me, that she sleeps with me, and that we’re building a family together. If she wanted to be in charge of the naming, that is her right as our spawn’s mother.

But only during an emotional moment on Christmas Eve, when I showed her the decorating I did as part of her gift—painting a mural of Sombra on one wall of our spawn’s future nursery, a mural of New York on another, all so that the child will know they are from both worlds equally no matter where we live—did Shannon admit that she was undecided when it came to our child’s name.

She couldn’t share her pregnancy with her family. For many cycles, she hid it from her friends. Just like how Duke Haures’s first law insists that I am hidden from the mortals in her realm, the same was true of our child. They would be half Sombran no matter what features they received from the both of us, and it was as important to keep the secret of the demon realms from the human world.

I kissed her on the forehead while sitting together next to our indoor, decorated tree, and told her that, when we saw our child, we would know.

And I do.

“Alana,” I repeat. “I think we should call her Alana.”

Shannon will need to understand that our child is unlike anything I expected. I am Sombran. I am shadows.

And my daughter has none.

She will have horns. She has my golden glowing eyes. But the rest of her… she is as colorless as Duke Haures.

Rumors have run for millennia that the duke was blessed by the gods with powers that allow him to rule, but unlike his people, he has no shadows. Neither does our spawn.

What sort of powers have the gods granted her?

“Alana,” echoes Shannon. “I like it. It’s pretty.”

“It’s the name of the Queen of Demons,” I tell my mate. “Before Duke Haures, we had King Yelios. But before there was a king ruling Sombra, there was Queen Alana, the most powerful demoness to ever live.”

Shannon lets out a soft whistle. “History, too. And you think it’s fair to name our kid after a legendary queen.”

She has no shadows. I think we must.

“Yes.”

“Then Alana it is.” Shannon nuzzles the top of the blanket. “My pretty girl. I can’ wait tobe your mom.”

My heart swells. I will ask one of the clan hunters to teach me more than Nox did. I will plead with Apollyon to allow us quarters in the heart of the village. Anything to protect the two females who own that heart… I will do anything, I vow, watching Shannon snuggle Alana close.

I don’t know how long I do so. Shannon will need to be moved from the birthing nest to one where she can be more comfortable. Alana will need to be fed, and so will my mate. And, yet, though our world has changed, I cling to this moment for as long as I can… until Apollyon peeks his head hesitantly into our room and, before I can move to stand in front of my mate and my child, he says, “Malphas? Duke Haures is here to meet with you.”

Me?

I move in front of the bedding right as Duke Haures, wearin his crystalline crow, comes marching into the room.

I’d expected to go to him. To leave our quarters and greet the duke outside, but there he is, and I’m too stunned to react at first.

“Your grace.” I am a simple clan artist. I know of Duke Haures—everyone on Sombra does—but I’ve never heard of him leaving Mavro for anything, least of all coming to greet a newly born spawn. Spawn are born everyday?—

—but when Duke Haures’s strange blue eyes land on the wrapped bundle in Shannon’s arms, his odd features twisting as though he doesn’t know what to make of our miracle, I suck in a breath and drop down to one knee, showing our ruler the proper level of respect he would expect from a male with a mate and a child to protect.

He flicks his fingers, clicking his claws together. “Rise, Malphas.”

I do. “What an honor to have you here?—”

“I came as soon as I was told the child would be born this moon.”

Shannon clutches the bundle that is Alana. “Mal? What’s going on?”

I wish I knew.

I smile at my mate, then face the imposing ruler again. “Duke Haures. I never expected to see you here in Nuit.”

He grins, flashing his tusks. “This is the first time I’ve visited the outskirts of my domain in centuries. It is your honor, artist. Now, if you would, show me the spawn.”

A pulse of refusal comes down our bond. I send reassurance back, then ease toward my mate.

“Trust me,” I murmur softly to Shannon.

Her eyes—tired, yet frantic—go wide. But the reassurance reaches her, and she nods. “Support the head, Mal,” is all she says as I gently scoop up the bundle.

How did he know? Did Azazel or Apollyon have some way to reach Mavro already, telling Duke Haures of what he’ll find in the blankets as I shift my daughter, showing her wee colorless face to our ruler?

I think so because the only reaction Duke Haures gives is a solemn nod.

“Just as it was foretold,” he says, his voice booming, though Alana does nothing but stare curiously at the awe-inspiring demon staring at her. “She is the spawn of the prophecy.”

I blink.

Shannon grunts, pushing her aching, tender, raw body up and off of the nest.

And my mate… my love… my flower… glares at Duke Haures, himself, lord of Sombra and says, “What the fuck are you talking about?”