“Someone get this girl a lollipop and shove it deep in her mouth, stat,” William shouted, urging Paris past her to the door. He didn’t knock, but barreled inside. “All right, ladies. Our turn.”
Reyes was sitting beside the bed, dark and menacing, with Strider the blond giant at his left. Both warriors were cooing at the thickly blanketed bundle of joy Reyes held.
Ashlyn was propped up on the bed, pale, shaky and clearly weak. Maddox sat beside her, holding the other bundle.
“Out,” William added. “Paris wants to see Smith and Wesson.”
“Don’t call them that,” Maddox said. Paris had never heard the keeper of Violence use such a gentle tone. It was more startling than being punched in the face.
“What do you want me to call them? Shits and Giggles? Fists and Kneecap? Nah, I don’t like that one. Hammer and Nails? Dude, these kids are hard-core gangster. They need kick-A names, not that blah, blah sh—crap you gave them.”
Slowly Reyes stood, waited for William to close the distance and gently placed the bundle in his arms. The dark warrior patted Paris on the shoulder as he left, and Strider did the same. Only, he stopped and said, “Meet me in the gym when you’re done,” before leaving.
Battling a wave of foreboding, Paris nodded. Then the two were gone, the door closed behind them, and he pushed the upcoming chat from his mind. He made his way to William, who seemed perfectly at ease holding such a fragile being. Only in secret had Paris ever allowed himself to contemplate having a family, because no way had he wanted to father a kid with a one-night stand. Now, with Sienna, who had been denied the chance to be a mother…
He wanted to give her this.
At William’s side, he peered down at the first demon-human hybrid infant to join their crew—and what he saw nearly shocked the piss out of him.
“Gorgeous little fiend, isn’t she?” William said, beaming down. He tickled her belly. “Oh, yes, she is. Yes, she really is.”
Gurgling happily, the baby waved her little fists. Her eyes were open and clear, a vibrant, crackling orange-gold, and so freaking intelligent, despite the fact that she peered up at William with total, absolute adoration. And yeah, she was gorgeous. Already had a cap of honey-colored hair, the corkscrew curls spiking up from her head. But the real shocker? She had a mouthful of teeth. Really, really sharp teeth. And those cute little fists? Topped off by curling claws.
“Will she ever be able to pass as human?” he asked quietly, not wanting the probably sensitive mother to hear.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Ashlyn answered anyway. “Time will tell. Either way, they are both beautiful beyond imagining.”
Figured that she’d heard him. She herself might be human, but she could hear any conversation anywhere, no matter how many years had passed. That was her curse. And weren’t the twins in for a real treat, never able to hide anything from mom.
“What’s her name?” he asked.
“Ever,” William said with no small amount of disgust.
Ever did a fist pump in the air. With pride? Or anger?
“The name is perfect, just like her,” Ashlyn said. Her eyelids were fluttering closed, as if she were having trouble staying awake.
“Go on to sleep, sweetheart,” Maddox told her. “I’ll take care of everything.”
“Thank you,” she said as she sighed, head already lolling to the side.
“Want to hold her?” William asked Paris.
“Ashlyn? No, thanks.” Maddox would brain him, same as Paris would brain any warrior who tried to hold Sienna. Not that any besides William and maybe Lucien could even see her at the moment.
William rolled his eyes. “You know what I meant. The baby.Ever.”
“Oh, uh, yeah. I totally knew what you meant.”
“Do you have to be so loud?” Maddox snapped in that quiet, gentle voice so at odds with the roughness of his features.
Paris held up his hands, palms out, whispering, “No way on the holding of the kidlet.” He was too big, and too hard to do anything but bruise the little girl. Besides, Ever growled in his direction, her lips peeling back from her fangs, and it was very clear she was happy where she was.
He moved around to the other side of the bed, where Maddox held the boy. Of course, the warrior beamed with pride as he smoothed the blanket from the kid’s face. Like Ever, the baby looked months old. He had a cap of black hair and his eyes were the same shade of violet as his daddy’s and diamond-hard. Two little horns peeked from his skull, and there were patches of scales on his hands. Those scales were black and as smooth as glass.
With focused intensity, the boy studied Paris. And Paris had no doubt the kid had sized him up in a single heartbeat, learning his weaknesses, his flaws, and his bad habits, and was preparing for attack.
“What’s his name?”
“Urban,” William answered before Maddox could, and again he was all about the disgust.
Ever and Urban. Cute, in a Hollyweird sort of way. “What made you pick those particular names?”
“We didn’t,” Maddox said. “They did.”
His eyes widened. “They can speak?”
“No, but they are very good at communicating.”
And that would be…how? “So, I hear the birth was troublesome. How’d William save the day?”
Maddox stiffened, even as William shook his head and placed Ever in the bassinet beside the bed. When he straightened, William rocked his hand over his neck in a slicing motion. A kill-that-line-of-convo- nowgesture.
“That goshdarn mothertrucking a-hole cut my woman up, ripped the babies out and sewed her back together.” Maddox’s nostrils flared, so heavily did he breathe. “Without anesthesia.”
William popped his jaw. “There wasn’t time. They were clawing their way out, and waiting any longer would have killed your Ashlyn for sure. And better a dagger slice, which is smooth, than the savage tearing that comes with claws. And by the way, you’re welcome. They’re all alive.”
Well, all right, then. Like a coward, Paris abandoned ship, leaving William to endure Maddox’s wrath on his own. He made his way to the gym on the bottom floor. Strider was there, as promised, running the treadmill like a man possessed. Which he was.
Blond hair was plastered to his scalp, and rivers of sweat ran down his deeply tanned skin.
The white-haired Torin was at the far side of the room, bench-pressing enough weight to have fractured the marble floor. Shock rooted him in place for a moment. Torin never approached the masses, too afraid of someone accidentally touching him.
How’d he get here, anyway? Last Paris had heard, Disease had turned down Lucien’s offer for air travel. And when the hell had Torin gotten so ripped? He usually holed up in his room, covered from neck to foot in black. Now, without a shirt, Paris saw the guy had the chiseled body of someone who could kick his ass.
Both men stopped what they were doing when they realized he’d entered. Paris whipped off his shirt, his gun holster and his blades, stored them on a bench and moved to the treadmill beside Strider.
“What’d you want to talk to me about?” He hit a few buttons, and then the thing was lifting and moving, giving him a grueling incline and a sprinting pace that felt unbelievably good. He hadn’t exercised like this in a long time.
“What’s this I hear about you having an invisible Hunter on the premises?” Strider asked, catching a towel Torin had thrown at him. He wiped his face, his gaze remaining on Paris. “The Hunter possessed by Wrath, I might add.”
Shoulda known.“She’s not a Hunter, not anymore, and she’s not up for discussion.”
“Like hell she isn’t. My woman is here.”
“Yeah, and your woman can take care of herself.”
Pride flickered in Strider’s navy eyes. “True enough. Fact remains, though, that an unseen enemy is the most dangerous. Your girl can do all kinds of damage to everyone here.”
He cranked the speed up another thousand notches, until his boots were hammering into the base and rattling the entire machine. “She’s not out to hurt us.”