Page 54 of Coerced Queen

I hover, my panic turning up a notch.

Making a split-second decision, I cross the floor.I stop over the crib, staring down at her red face and frantic sobbing.I act out of pure instinct, not thinking about what I’m doing when I lean the crutches on the side of the crib and reach down to lift her into my arms.

I’m not prepared for how light she is.I had no idea she weighed so little.Nothing almost.Neither am I prepared for how fragile she feels when I press her frail, delicate body against my chest.She goes quiet at the contact.I cradle her against me with her head in my palm.She’s so small my fingers can easily overlap around her skull.My heart expands with something foreign and frightening, something that feels a lot like the first time I got onto a plane.

I drink in her smell, that innocent scent of baby powder and shampoo.She fusses a little, letting me know with sniffling sobs she’s not happy.

“There, sweet angel,” I coo.“What’s the matter?Is your tummy empty?Is your diaper wet?”

She makes another baby sound, fisting her minuscule fingers into my T-shirt.I home in on that hand, on every perfectly shaped little fingernail, and I’m dumbstruck with the miracle I hold in my arms.

I brush a fingertip over her doll-sized knuckles, admiring the softness of her flawless skin.Letting go of my T-shirt, she wraps those impossibly small fingers around my forefinger in a surprisingly strong grip.

Fuck.

I’m a goner.

My heart threatens to burst with more unknown feelings.Just like that, Claire De Luca conquers my soul.All five pounds of her.She already has me wrapped around her finger.She doesn’t even have to try.I’m all hers, ready to lay down my life for her.

She makes a gurgling sound, nestling against my chest as if she belongs there.

I rock her gently.“There, angel.Daddy will take care of you.”

Cradling her in my arm, I lower her gently to look at her face.She has Anya’s lips and nose.The resemblance is striking.My ribcage squeezes when I think about a little girl with red pigtails and freckles chasing butterflies in the garden.Because I may not be here long enough to see that.

“But I’ll love you for longer,” I whisper, tracing the delicate line of her jaw.“Into forever.”

She turns her face to mine, searching for the source of the sound, and when she fixes her gaze on me, her little body goes rigid.The hold on my finger disappears as she balls her hands into fists and goes red in the face while crying at the top of her lungs.

Startled, it takes me a second to come to my senses.To realize.And then I understand.Then I know what she sees.

My jaw clenches involuntarily, my anger directed at myself as I try to remove the object that causes her distress as quickly as possible by laying her down in her crib and putting distance between us.

“Saverio, no.”

My wife appears at my side.

“It’s not what you think.”Anya touches my arm.“She doesn’t know you, and she got a surprise, that’s all.”

I turn the battered side of my face away.

Anya’s tone is pleading.“Sav.”

I shake off her touch.

I don’t have to look at her to sense her hurt at the rejection, but I do it anyway because I can’t help myself.She’s wearing a bathrobe knotted around her waist, her hair hanging sopping wet around her shoulders.She should dry it before she catches a cold.I want to tell her to go do that.Instead, I take my crutches.

I’ve been an idiot.

“Sav,” she says again.

“I’m sorry.”

For everything.

For the murder she wasn’t supposed to see.

For what she does to my body, provoking this obsession in me.

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