Page 173 of Filthy Rich Vampires: For Eternity

Physically, I felt fine. A little sore from the days I’d spent in bed. I tapped deeper and found my magic there, at its center, the kernel of Julian’s dark power. And if he said the baby was fine... I should be, too. How I felt emotionally was a different story. My soul felt wrung out, taken from my body and twisted like a wet rag.

A squeeze of my hand sent my attention to Julian, who wore a look of strained patience.

“It’s strange. I’m not sorry that my father is dead.” I didn’t quite know how to explain it. “But something about it still feels...wrong.” I shook my head, feeling like the innocent, stupid mortal Julian had first met. “I should be happy. He was a monster.”

“He was,” Julian said darkly, brushing his thumb over the back of my hand in soothing circles, “but that doesn’t mean it’s not complicated. And it doesn’t make you stupid if you don’t celebrate his death. You don’t have to rationalize your feelings. You just have to feel them.”

He was right, but the weight on my chest—that uneasy, queasy feeling—didn’t lift. I turned my attention to other issues. “And the Council?”

They couldn’t be happy that Selah was dead.

“They’re not, but they’re acting like they’re horrified.” His mouth twisted. “Admitting one of them actively slaughtered our kind hasn’t gone over well. The Council is dealing with the fallout.”

“At least they’re preoccupied.”

He snorted. It was a small mercy.

I wanted to linger here with him forever, never wanted to release his hand, but my body had other ideas. “I need the bathroom,” I said apologetically.

He cursed under his breath. “I should have seen to that.”

“I can see to it myself,” I promised him as I rose.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. My stomach answered him and he chuckled. “That’s a stupid question. I’ll get you something to eat.”

Before he could turn to leave, I grabbed his hand. “Julian, about the wedding—”

“It can wait,” he cut me off, something unreadable occupying his eyes for a moment before it left.

I shook my head. “I don’t want to wait.”

A grin tugged at his mouth, but he didn’t give into it. “There’s someone you should talk to first.”

“Someone?” I lifted my brows.

“Aurelia tracked down your mother. She said you asked her to.” His voice was quiet, tentative, and my heart clenched. Then it began to pound. “Maybe you should talk to her before you make any decisions.”

“She’s here?” My mouth went dry.

He nodded. “I’ll find her and get you some food.”

Before I could tell him that nothing would change my mind about him, about marrying him, he disappeared into the adjoining sitting room.

As I cleaned up and brushed my teeth, there was a pit in my stomach that had nothing to do with morning sickness. The last time I’d seen my mother, everything was different between us. With her glamour lifted and along with it the lies and the secrets she’d kept from me, I had wanted explanations. I hadn’t been ready to forgive her. She hadn’t even asked me for forgiveness. Maybe that was why, even now, I wasn’t sure that I could forgive her. But even if I was still angry, I couldn’t help seeing things in an entirely different perspective.

Lifting my nightgown, I studied myself in the mirror. There was still no sign of my pregnancy. I turned, checking every angle. But even if I couldn’t see it and had yet to hear or feel it myself, I knew the baby was there from the love I felt. And maybe it was that love—that unconditional, unbreakable love I felt—that helped me understand why my mother had made all those terrible choices. Understanding didn’t forgive it. It only helped me believe she’d acted out of love.

I emerged from the bedroom and froze. My mother stood near the bed, a tray of food in her hands. Our eyes met, tension like a stretched band between us. One wrong move and it would snap. She was as beautiful as the day we met in Cannaregio. Her copper hair was knotted in a bun at the nape of her neck, accentuating the sharp curve of her cheekbones and setting off her green eyes.

The same color as my own. Would the baby have those eyes?

“I’d ask if you wanted to take this into the other room—to an actual table—but your mate insists you get back in bed,” she called over her shoulder, and I knew Julian remained there in case this meeting went poorly.

“He’s a worrywart,” I said loud enough for him to hear, but I climbed into bed, bracing several pillows behind my back.

I’ll leave you two. Let me know...

Love swelled in my heart, and I sent back the promise that I would. I knew how much it cost him to leave me here. Not because she was here. We both knew my mother would never harm me. But because his fear had yet to calm after recent events. And despite all of that, he knew that I needed this moment with my mother. Alone.

---