Page 89 of Daring Her Vampires
“Allie didn’t,” he whispers, and I flex my jaw.
“You are nothing like Fredrick,” I hiss.
“I know,” he sighs.
“Do not compare yourself to him,” I command, knowing he thought it for a second. “She was forced. He didn’t influence her or treat her gently.” My stomach rolls thinking of her story.
“You're right. I would never do that to anyone. Women should be respected in every way.” He looks at Sally. “We’ve done things we aren’t proud of, but we did the best we could at the time. Sometimes we pushed the limits, but we never crossed the line. If we were truly bad, the universe wouldn’t have given us such a gift.”
“I should have told her,” I whisper harshly.
“What?” He glances up.
“That I fucking love her.” My heart squeezes. “I didn’t think I could love anyone.”
“Of course you can. You show your love to Allie and me.” I look away. “You can’t admit that to us, but you can for her.”
“It’s different,” I grumble.
“Why? Because we’re men?”
“Fuck off.”
“I love you, too, brother.”
“Shit.” I turn and run my hands through my hair.
“You have time to tell her. She’ll wake soon,” he says, sobering.
“How do you know?” I turn back.
“Can’t you feel it? The bond growing inside you.”
I close my eyes. “Yes,” I say softly. “How can I love her so deeply so quickly?” Her heart was racing minutes ago, growing accustomed to the change. It’s beginning to slow; her body is becoming like ours.
“How can possessive creatures such as us share her?” I open my eyes. “It’s magic. Fate. Whatever you want to call it. I love her too. The universe knew who we needed. She has shown us what is possible.”
“She will give us a family.” I sit on the bottom of the bed and cup her calf. “A daughter.” I still have not wrapped my head around that thought.
“Hopefully, more children,” Atlas whispers, smiling softly. “The next generation of Sallys.” We share a grin.
“Wild. Beautiful.” I look at her face. “Her family is going to be mad we didn’t tell them.”
“We’ve shared enough moments with them,” he grumbles.
“They won’t see it that way.” I can picture Micah using his power to punish us, at least try to.
“I don’t care. This moment is ours. She will wake, and she can tell them.”
“I predict many uncomfortable family gatherings for years to come,” I say dryly.
“The ones we have had haven’t been uncomfortable?” he asks.
“Right,” I mutter, scowling. “Do you think we will be accepted anytime soon?”
“They won’t have a choice.”
“Micah will want to kill us.”
