Page 35 of Monster's Secret Baby

"That's fear," she insists. "Not desire."

I lean in, letting my lips hover near her ear. "They look remarkably similar on you. Always have."

She pushes against my chest, hard. "Stay away from me."

"You don't mean that." I catch her wrist before she can retreat, my grip gentle but unyielding. "If you truly wanted me gone, you'd have run again. You'd have taken Brooke and disappeared the moment you saw me in Saufort."

"I've built a life here. I won't run again."

"No," I agree, sliding my thumb across the inside of her wrist, feeling her pulse leap in response. "You won't. Because deep down, beneath all that anger and hurt, you know we belong together."

Her free hand flies up, striking me across the face, sharp and stinging. I don't release her, don't even flinch.

"I hate you," she whispers, and there are tears gathering in her eyes now.

I smile, because hate is not indifference. Hate is passion, and passion I can work with. Hate means she still feels something—and feeling, for Harmony, has always been her undoing.

"Hate me all you want," I tell her, finally releasing her wrist. "It won't change what's between us."

17

HARMONY

It's been almost three weeks since Adellum materialized in Saufort like a phantom from my past, and I still flinch at unexpected shadows. Each time the restaurant door swings open, my heart leaps to my throat—half terror, half something I refuse to name.

Today, I'm kneeling in the garden behind Marda's restaurant, fingers buried in the cool, damp soil when Brooke's delighted squeal pierces the late morning quiet. My spine goes rigid.

"Look how high!" She shrieks, and I know, without looking, that he's there.

When I stand and brush the dirt from my apron, the sight of them steals my breath. Adellum has her perched on his shoulders, her tiny hands gripping fistfuls of his white-blond hair that's starting to grow out. His massive gray wings are partially extended, creating a shadow that dapples the ground beneath them. They're beautiful together—his dusky bronze skin against her golden-brown, both with those otherworldly silver eyes that seem to hold all the light in the world.

"Mama, he's taking me flying!" Brooke announces, beaming down at me.

"Absolutely not," I say, wiping my hands on my apron and stepping forward to claim my daughter. "Feet on the ground, little one."

Adellum's mouth quirks—not quite the full, easy smile I remember, but something harder, a challenge. "I'd never drop her." His voice is deeper than I remember, or maybe memory has softened all the rough edges I tried so hard to forget.

"I didn't say you would." I reach up, and reluctantly, he lowers her down.

"But Mama?—"

"Maybe another day," I tell her, a lie that tastes bitter. There will be no other days. Adellum can't stay here, can't be part of our lives. The sooner he understands that, the better.

Brooke sighs dramatically and wriggles free from my grasp. "Can I go see if Marda has any leftover sweet rolls?"

"Stay where Marda can see you," I call after her as she darts toward the kitchen door, leaving me alone with the man I've spent four years trying to forget.

Adellum watches her go, a muscle working in his jaw. "She's extraordinary."

"She is."

"She has magic." It's not a question.

"She does."

His gaze flicks to me, sharp as a blade. "Whose is she?"

I look away, focusing on the rosemary bush that needs pruning. "She's mine."

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