Page 29 of Inked Athena

“She’s great.”

She’s perfect. She’s mine.

Having children was always on my to-do list, but only in an abstract sort of way, floating somewhere between diversifying my investment portfolio and cleaning out the freezer. It was an organizational must—to secure my legacy, if nothing else—but I didn’t long for it. I wasn’t striving towards it with any kind of meaningful effort.

Now, the possessive beast in me roars with approval at the image of Nova growing large with my child, marked forever by her connection to me.

“No need to elaborate.” Myles whistles. “I’m suddenly understanding why you’re so ‘busy,’ so I’ll make it quick.”

“Finally.”

“John and May Morris got back to me, and everything will be ready for your arrival. They’re thrilled, actually. They didn’t think you’d ever actually make good on your investment.”

That makes two of us.

“Great. If that’s all?—”

“Yeah, yeah. Go take care of your woman,” he grumbles. “I’ll just keep slaving away for next to no gratitude. Don’t mind me.”

“I won’t.”

I hang up with the sound of Myles’s curse in my ears and a smile on my face.

My woman.It has a nice ring to it.

My wifewould be even better.

When I burst back into the suite, my attention stalls on Nova. She’s lying on our bed, a blanket pulled over her lap. She looks like a different woman from the one who limped into that cabin a few short weeks ago. Her face is fuller and glowing, the bruises along her jaw are healed, and the bite marks along her arm are fading to soft, pink scars that I’ll learn to love just like I love the rest of her.

The thought stops me in place, ringing through me like a frying pan to the top of the head.

I love her.

Fucking hell, I love her.

My face splits into a wide smile, and Nova matches it. She’s radiant as she blinks back tears. “I’m sorry—I couldn’t wait. I had to know. Did he already tell you, too?”

“Tell me what?”

“You’re smiling, so I thought—” She shakes her head, still grinning. “It doesn’t matter. I’m pregnant, Sam. For real.”

The air leaves my lungs in one heavy exhale. “Pregnant.”

She bites nervously at the corner of her mouth, her fingers twisting in the comforter. “Are you happy?”

I turn to the bushy set of eyebrows in the white lab coat. Dr. Floris is marking something on a chart and humming under his breath. “Are you sure?”

“Most definitely,” he assures me in a crisp Sardinian accent. “Early, but absolutely pregnant. I’ve prescribed some folic acid, but that’s standard. At this point, everything is healthy and stable.”

There’s relief, but somewhere deep down, there’s something else. Some part of me that snags on his words.

At this point.

As in, at some point in the future, things could turn to shit. At some unknown time, maybe not too far off, everything could turn sideways.

Because that’s what love is, isn’t it? Giving someone else the opportunity to rip your world to shreds. It’s breaking off a piece of your heart and offering it up to the universe or fate or whatever fucked-up force makes decisions about who lives and who dies and who gets happily-ever-afters.

It’s not usually men with blood on their hands.

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