Page 70 of Seizing Control: Part Two

My flagrant disregard for the agreement I made with Gabriel has caused ructions within the curia. They don’t know what to do with me and my vocal objections to his hypocrisy. I’ve been tased. Beaten. Humiliated. Forced to act as a watch-out while the honeypots have done their thing when it’s not part of the role I’m being trained to undertake.

I don’t care.

The Adjudicator will have to kill me to stop me going after Slash.

He knew when he recruited me that only one thing turns me into a devil.

Risk’s to Lily’s safety.

When Gabriel went behind my back to cement an additional allegiance with Slash, he brought out my dark side. He helped resurrect Venom. Broken men break other men, and I am beyond broken. Slash’s actions affected my woman. The man I once trusted with her life now poses a danger to my sweet thing.

For that, I will crush my rival to dust.

The second Meeyal leaves Slash’s side, this war begins in earnest...

“Hey, hey,” I murmur when Garrett starts shifting in his crib.

Eyeing Lily, I note that her breathing has evened out. She’s taken my advice to fall asleep. While her trust in my devotion to the little man remains untainted, my violent outburst has broken her faith in me in every other area. I’ll take my windfalls where I can find them, which means I’m holding on to her belief in my good intentions toward Garrett with both hands.

It’s a sign that she’ll eventually mellow toward me again.

Abandoning the rocking chair, I push the pacifier back into the little man’s mouth. He sucks it, but continues to fuss. I engage my earpiece and whisper, “Need the kitchen cleared out.”

“I’ll get it done,” Layla’s second in charge, Ilia, replies. Less than ten second pass before he tells me, “Done. You’ve got five minutes.”

Tucking the baby monitor under my arm, I sneak out of the bedroom and down the stairs. In the kitchen, I efficiently prepare the bottle. Heating it, then testing the temperature on the inside of my wrist like Nadia taught me months ago, I’m done with half a minute to spare.

I report back to Ilia when I reach the landing on the second floor. “Clear.”

“Good,” he states over the sound of his fingers flying over a keyboard. “The prospect is on his way.”

Inside Lily’s bedroom, I lift Garrett out of his cot and angle him in my lap while I get him organised for a feed. The burping cloth is a must, the chubby little man likes his food too much to heed our efforts to slow down his gulping. I’ve worn his vomit often enough to have learned this the hard way. Once he’s comfortable in my arms, I offer him the teat, and he suckles on it like a madman.

Before she stopped talking to me, Lily confided that she’s sad he isn’t being breast fed.

It was the first time that I really grasped how serious she takes her role as Garrett’s mother. Her comment also planted a seed in my head. The notion of Lily feeding our twins intrigues me. I’m looking forward to watching her feed the twins.

Maybe even stealing a little sample myself...

I shift awkwardly in the rocker as my body reacts to the idea.

This six-week sex drought has nothing on the months I’ve gone without her before, but it’s disconcerting to find myself getting turned on at the thought of Lily’s leaking breasts. The books I’ve reach, painstakingly slowly since my dyslexia diagnosis is new and we’re still working out the best techniques to improve my reading speed and comprehension, are full of tips and tricks to best support my woman.

From birthing support to postpartum to child rearing, I like to think I’m ready to be her partner in all the ways that matter. Reality has proven a bitch, though. Our ongoing separation is driving me mad.

She needs me.

I need her.

One hard-headed prick keeps getting between us.

Caught between heaven and hell, I’m approaching fatherhood the way I do everything else.

Headfirst.

By diving in and working out the particulars later.

I’ll follow Lily to the bowels of hell if that means I’m with her.

---