After all, Lucifer, Hera, and Dracula have never been closer.
A fact that still makes me vomit to this day.
There are some things you don’t want to see, hear, or know about, and your parents banging is one of those, even though Lucifer and Dracula still insist that they’re enemies with benefits.
Yuck. Ew. Vomit. Gag.
Once a month, we meet with the Fomorians in either Mount Olympus or Hell to discuss the state of the afterworld and all that jazz. Athena has kept her word and has been a surprisingly welcome addition to our little makeshift family. She took Mason under her wing, treating him like her own son, and now, Mason is second in command of the Wild Hunt.
I just hope Athena doesn’t get any ideas about fucking him, son or not...
“Why don’t I just go instead?” Mason suggests tentatively, venturing a step forward with his hands raised, as if he’s afraid he’ll need to fend me off. “I could write everything down for you and—”
“No,” I growl. “I’m the future leader of the world, dammit. I can sit through one meeting while pregnant.”
“You’re two days past your due date,” Vin says, his eyes fierce, his tone acerbic.
“It’s actually three now,” Barret pipes in helpfully.
“What can we say?” Cal reclines back on the couch with an indolent smile. “Our little mate is nothing but stubborn. She’ll give birth when she wants to give birth, and not a second sooner.”
“Damn right,” I reply, folding my arms over my chest and scowling. “Now, can we get a move on?” I address this at Dimitri, who’s in charge of directing the portal to the correct destination.
One of his eyebrows twitches, anger lining his face, before he concedes with an exasperated sigh. “You’re impossible, Mrs. Dracula.”
“You’re impossible too, Mr. Dracula.” I smirk widely, and his own lips quirk in a responding smile. His eyes briefly flick to the ring adorning my finger—and then the ring on his own, matching the ones my other mates have.
With a mocking bow, Dimitri gestures toward the portal, and I give him a smug smirk before stalking inside.
Even after all these years, it still feels weird walking through a portal. It’s like I’m standing on an icy surface that’s cracking and shattering beneath my feet, drawing me into its glacial depths. I have to hold my breath to keep from gasping as I fall, fall, fall...
Before abruptly being spit out into a motherfucking hospital room.
“What the hell?” I whirl around, my hands clenched into fists and anger pressing into my lungs like needles.
Frankie stands across from me.
“Violet,” he says calmly, not at all affected by my ire. “Why don’t you have a seat?” He gestures to the bed behind him.
“Is this some kind of Chris Hansen, true crime bullshit?” I demand as my stomach spasms. The familiar claws of pain scratch down my spine, but I try to keep the agony off my face.
I’ll never admit to these fuck faces that I’ve been having god-awful contractions for over an hour now.
“We’re your mates, Violet.” Frankie cocks an eyebrow at me and takes another step closer. “Do you think we wouldn’t notice when your contractions started?”
“They’re not that—holy fucking shit with a side of meatball diarrhea!” I feel as if my damn womb is trying to tear me apart from the inside out.
Why did I agree to have sex?
Why, oh why?
I should’ve just been content to remain a virgin forever. Who needs cock? Not this girl, surely.
“Violet, just let us take care of you.” This comes from Alex, who has materialized behind me, alongside the rest of my mates. Our eyes meet, and a bolt of ice slashes through my chest.
Or that could just be the damn baby trying to crawl out of my body like a demon from The Exorcist.
“I’m fine.” Tears burn in my eyes even as I say that. “I’m totally fine. I’m not going into labor. I’m not. I’m not!”