Page 32 of The Aether

“Oh!”

Vivian’s squeak brought his head around a second before her water broke all over his leather shoes.

“Well, I suppose you’re gettingyourwish, too,” he said. “Our second beastie will be joining us for Sabrina’s birthday celebration.” Scooping Vivian up, he headed for the stairs, only pausing long enough to telepathically call Sabrina inside.

“But Papa!”

“Immediately, Beastie. Your brother is about to make an appearance.”

The air around them contracted, and a small shower of twinkling lights heralded Sabrina entrance.

“Nate?” Their daughter couldn’t contain her excitement. “I’ve been waiting for himforever!”

Vivian snorted. “Not as long as I have.”

“Beastie, I need you to call your aunts. Viv?”

Digging into his shirt pocket, she pulled out his smartphone. “Youdoknow I’m not helpless, Damian. I can walk—oh!”

Patiently, he waited as she rode the contraction.

“You were saying?”

“Oh, shush.” She handed Sabrina the phone. “Here, baby. Please tell them to hurry.”

Waiting until their daughter was out of earshot, Damian asked, “How long have you been in labor, Viv? Why hide it?”

“Just a few hours. The contractions weren’t bad, and I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Woman, I swear, you’d test the patience of a saint.”

“You’re up for the task.” She surprised him when she laughed and patted his cheek.

“Between you and Beastie, I’m going to have a shorter-than-average life span.”

Again, she laughed, but a painful groan followed on the heels of her merriment.

“Did you urge him along?” she gasped out.

“Not at all. I was hoping to put him to sleep to give you a few moments of peace,” Damian replied.

“He’s determined to come today, I think.”

“Your sisters will be here soon. Do you want me to call anyone else?”

“No. But will you stay with me, Damian? Like you did with Sabrina?”

The vulnerability in Vivian’s voice squeezed his heart. “Of course I will. Just you try to get rid of me, my love.”

“Am I?”

Her uncertainty shone from her eyes, and for once, Damian dropped his impassive mask to show her the raw emotion always churning below the surface.

“Oh, Viv. It kills me that you even have to ask.”

Her tears welled and spilled down her cheeks. Damian felt each and every one like acid droplets on his soul, and they burned like the dickens.

After he reached her bedroom, he set her on her feet and cradled her face between his palms. “I love you, Vivian Dethridge,” he told her fiercely. “Never doubt it.”

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