Page 17 of The Survivors (The Children of the Sun God #4)
Charis
“Through the trials of my past mistakes and the gift of new life, I find redemption.”
“I’m not a good man,” I whisper while holding my mate’s soft hand.
She doesn’t pull away at my confession. Hope sparks that she might forgive me. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye.
Vasia breaks the silence when I don’t elaborate. “You’re already a better man than I’ve ever known.”
We stop at a downed tree blocking our path. I step over it first and hold out my hand again. “May I?”
She nods while placing her hand on my shoulder. Her eyes hold a trust I don’t deserve.
Once across and back on the path, I start my story. She deserves to learn all the bad about me if the Fates allow me to keep her.
“I’ve been a part of this world for six decades. I’d given up hope of ever finding a mate. Fear of losing someone I fell in love with controlled my distance with the heifers in my herd.
“I sought companionship over the years outside of my people.
“I even fell in love once—a long time ago.
“From a distance, I still keep watch over her and our son and granddaughters.
“After a handful of questions regarding my lack of aging from Charlene, I went for milk and never returned. I’m one of those bastards.
“Anonymous gifts and donations provided her and Charles with a good life.
“As a male, I could have called the beast within our son out at age twelve. I considered it. Weighed the pros and cons. The sorrow Charlene would endure from losing her son to me after I abandoned them, and the pain Charles would face watching his mother age from the shadows, won the internal argument I had with myself.
“Charles will never know of his demigod heritage. He’s a better father to his girls than I was to him.”
Vasia stops walking and faces me. I’m afraid to look at her and see disgust on her face.
Her gentle touch caresses my check. She pushes against my face, forcing me to look at her. Instead of the expression I feared, I see nothing but kindness in her gaze.
“You did right by them the best way you knew how. Will you show them to me one day?”
Helios, what did I do to deserve her?
Before I fall to my knees to thank the Fates, her eyes widen. The sound of splashing at our feet brings our attention toward the ground.
I look back up at her, down at the womb juice, and back at her again.
Don’t panic, Charis.
“Vasia, what do I do?”
Through quick breaths, she asks, “What’s in that bag on your back?”
I slip it off, unzip it, and dump the entire contents on the dry ground.
My mind sees nothing that will help with the unexpected arrival of our child.
Vasia lets out a cry through gritted teeth as the labor pains come on faster than I remember them coming among the heifers in my herd.
“She’s coming now,” Vasia announces.
Now! Like right now!
“Help me sit against that tree over there.”
I scoop her up in my arms, carry her to the one she pointed at, and gently place her on the ground.
Another scream fills the forest. This one louder.
“I—feel—her—head.”
I sink to my knees and push her legs open. She bunches her dress in her fists and drags it upward.
I shove aside my fury that her captors didn’t provide her with underwear. These two will never want for anything.
Vasia pushes the heels of her feet against my shoulders. I brace myself, steadying her with one hand on her knee and the other ready to guide our child into the world.
“It’s okay, Vasia,” I murmur, trying to keep my voice calm. But on the inside, I’m an unsteady mess of fear and awe. As if holding its breath, the forest seems too quiet. The trees stand tall around us. Only the sounds of her labor fill the air.
She clenches her jaw and bears down. A strained cry escapes her lips. I feel her pain—a fierce pang in my chest, knowing there’s nothing I can do to ease this for her.
“Almost there,” I whisper, though I don’t know if that’s true. Her feet on my shoulders is unrelenting. I find beauty in her strength even in this vulnerable moment.
Another push, and I see the crown of our child’s head, dark curls emerging into the light. Vasia gasps, her body wracked with exertion, but she doesn’t falter. I can see the determination in her eyes, a fire that fuels her through every wave of pain.
“She’s almost here,” I tell her, and this time I believe it. I’m overwhelmed, struggling to hold back my emotions, because this is more than I could’ve ever imagined or deserved.
With a final, agonizing push, our daughter slips into my waiting hands. Her small body warm and wet, and her cries breaking the silence of the woods. I’m flooded with relief and a profound sense of wonder as I look down at her—my daughter, tiny and perfect.
Vasia’s breathing is ragged. Her face pale but triumphant. I lay our daughter gently against her chest, and Vasia’s expression lights up. Her eyes glisten as she gazes down at the tiny life she’s brought into the world.
“She’s beautiful,” I say, my voice thick with awe. I feel unworthy of this moment, of her and this little life we’ve brought into this world. A part of me wonders how long I’ll be able to hold on to them, but I push that thought away.
Vasia’s hand reaches up, and her fingers brush my cheek with a tenderness that undoes me. “We’re not going anywhere,” she whispers, as if having read my mind. Her voice is steady despite her exhaustion. “We’re a family, Charis.”
I press my forehead against hers, letting the power of her words settle over me. In this moment, under the canopy of trees and the gentle rustling of leaves, I feel whole, like I’ve finally found the place I was meant to be.
The baby stirs, her tiny fingers curling, and Vasia smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to the soft crown of her head. I don’t deserve this, except I’m determined to become the man she believes I already am.