Midnight Shift, page 18
“Yes, yes,” she mumbled, along with other grunts and moans of pleasure. “Shit.” Her eyes started to droop. He gave her hair a sharp tug, because he liked the way the small pain brought her pleasure to a bright point. “Shit, this feels so good.”
“Say my name,” he rasped, his thrusts solid and deep. “Say my name and make it real.”
“Yes,” she cried out as her back bowed. “Trace!”
He opened himself to the sensation of her orgasm as wave of spasms wracked her and a frenzied euphoria danced through her body. Grinding herself onto him, she milked his cock for every ounce of pleasure, riding the ecstasy as Trace’s orgasm tore through him and a roar ripped from his throat. He held her tightly, almost vise-like, until the last of his climax ebbed, and he softened inside her.
They held each other for a long moment, neither of them saying a word, just pure, unadulterated and silent happiness.
The door opened.
Benie and Trace looked up, Trace feeling just a smidgen of guilt.
Ian brushed his fingers through his curly locks and pursed his lips. “Glad to see nobody’s dead.” He closed the door behind him.
Trace and Benie turned back to each other. Trace was the first to sputter then laugh. Benie followed soon after. It was like air had been vented into a vacuum and, for the first time in a long time, he could breathe easily. He felt good, and he wanted the feeling to last forever.
Chapter 18
“Interesting.” Helen Downing, midwife extraordinaire, well versed in other reproduction, tapped her lower lip with the bell end of her stethoscope. Benie was four months into her pregnancy now, and the midwife had insisted she get an ultrasound. Especially since her frequent bouts of fever when Trace and Ian weren’t near kept reoccurring. But getting an ultrasound meant Benie had to leave the safe house and go to the midwife’s office. It was the first time she’d been out in the world in two months. She’d jumped at the chance.
Helen the midwife had a round face with gray hair and gray eyes, which made her pale, nearly white skin almost pasty-looking. Needless to say, she gave Benie the jitters. It was hard to trust someone who didn’t register on the color scale. But Helen had been attentive and kind, and Benie felt a little bad for judging her based on appearance alone.
Ty Wasape and Eustan waited out in the hall at Gray’s insistence that they take extra security. As Benie’s pregnancy developed, he worried Garrick would grow desperate in his plan to get rid of her.
Benie suffered through the cold gel and the even colder roller ball Helen pressed into her stomach without even the hint of a sigh.
The midwife’s eyes narrowed at she looked at the screen just out of Benie’s view.
“Interesting,” Helen said.
Trace and Ian stood beside her, looking at the ultrasound picture as if it were some ancient text no one could decipher.
“Interesting?” Benie rubbed her slightly bulging tummy. The cold gel for the ultrasound was still tacky to the touch. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
The midwife blinked rapidly and worried her lower lip. “Not sure.”
“Is there something wrong with the baby?” As if cued, a fluttering movement tickled her abdomen.
Benie’s lovers said nothing, and there was more blinking from the midwife.
“Is there some kind of weird abnormality?” Benie groaned and closed her eyes. “Please don’t tell me it has two heads.” She was only partially joking. The way they were all looking worried her.
“Sorta.”
“Holy shit! I have a two-headed baby?”
“Not exactly.” The midwife pulled the ultrasound monitor into Benie’s line of sight. “You have a triple uterus.”
“A what?”
“Triple uterus. It’s like you have three uteruses in one. Sort of looks like a fleur de lis. But that’s not the unusual part…”
Irritated, Benie yanked her gown down and sat up. “Of course, having three wombs isn’t unusual enough. There has to be more.”
“I don’t know how to tell you this, but you have two fetuses.”
“Twins?” The room started spinning. “I feel sick.”
“Not twins. I’d say the fetus in the middle is about four months, while the one on the right is approximately two months.”
Covering her eyes, Benie lay back on the exam table. “This is not happening.”
“I recommend we terminate the younger fetus.”
“Well, I recommend you stop calling it a fetus.” Benie sat up again. Her balled fists clenched and unclenched. She narrowed her eyes at Helen. “It sounds like you’re talking about a pickled pig ready for dissection. Get the fuck out of here before I figure out the most efficient way to terminate your stupid ass.”
The midwife took several steps back, but didn’t leave the room. “But your majesty, terminating the second fet…baby may be the only way to make certain the heir conceived of the Triune will survive.”
Up until this point, Ian and Trace had been smart enough to keep their mouths shut, but now they were gaping. “Two kids?” Trace asked.
Ian leaned forward, examining the ultrasound picture again. “If the second isn’t part of the Triune, does that mean it has only one father?”
Trace and Benie both turned to stare at him.
“Either way, I think we should consider Helen’s recommendation.”
“Oh, shut up, Ian!” There was no way she’d do that. It might have been irrational, but Benie loved Ian and Trace, and she couldn’t imagine any circumstance where she’d willingly kill a little person they’d created together.
Waving his hand, Trace said, “It doesn’t matter. I don’t care if you’re the father, or I am, I’m with Benie.”
A bad rendition of “Papa Don’t Preach” ran through Benie’s head as she channeled all her anger and determination into four little words. “I’m keeping my babies.” Then added, to make her point, “Both of them.”
The colorless midwife shuffled her feet. “As you wish, but I’m afraid your turns of fever will get worse.”
Benie put her hands on her hips. “I don’t understand. What does that have to do with having two pregnancies?” Holy-fuck. Two babies!
Helen tapped her notes. Irritatingly, it reminded Benie of her Uncle Myron. “The Triune is not only nourished by the mother, but the father’s as well, and with two pregnancies, it’s going to be double duty. I’ve only seen this happen once before, and neither the mother nor the infants survived to full term.”
“You’ve got to be kidd…oh.” The baby…one of the babies, kicked. She assumed it was the older.
“I’m afraid the second child has put your system out of balance.”
“Oish. Okay, so Ian and Trace are fucking handcuffed to me. Is that what you’re saying?” That had been happening before everything went out of whack. “But I don’t understand why I’m getting so sick, especially when Trace and Ian are away from me for only short periods of time.”
“This is only speculation, but think of this imbalance as a pressure cooker. As the double pregnancy hormones are secreted in your system, it builds up and spills over into the rest of your body like steam in a sealed pot. Now, if that steam has nowhere to go, then the pot explodes.”
“Are you calling Trace and Ian release valves?”
The midwife blinked a whole bunch more. “I wouldn’t call them that, but apparently your children seem to think they are. It appears that the Triune, in an effort to protect herself from the hormone’s toxicity, is doing her level best to keep her fathers nearby as protection.”
Trace patted Benie’s stomach. “Smart girl.”
Benie swatted him away. “Stop that.”
He smiled. “Well, she is.”
Ian’s expression was more thoughtful, but he nodded his head in agreement.
Helen sighed heavily. “There’s another problem.”
“Of course there is.” Benie had just about had enough. “A father trying to kill me, three uteruses, two babies, overactive and apparently toxic pregnancy hormones…what’s one more problem?”
“It’s another reason for termination of the second…child. While proximity will relieve some of the toxicity, the stress will put a strain on the second pregnancy, which could cause a miscarriage, and in turn cause the Triune fet—” The midwife caught herself. “Infant to go into distress, and you could lose both. That’s what I was trying to tell you before.”
“Sort of sounds lose-lose.” Benie rubbed her eyes, suddenly tired, weary, and sad. Could she really terminate a pregnancy? On the other hand, how could she not? She wanted a second to breathe. “I need a minute alone.”
Helen placed a tentative pat on Benie’s shoulder. “Yes, of course. I’ll be out in the hall.”
Ian wrapped his arms around Benie first. Trace joined their tiny circle. “Whatever you decide…”
The air became thick and Benie felt claustrophobic. “Can you guys wait out in the hall too? I need a minute to gather myself. Then we’ll talk. Okay? We’ll make this decision together.”
They each kissed her, murmured comforting words, but in the end, Benie sat on the exam table in an unflattering hospital gown feeling utterly alone. Her breath quickened, and it felt harder to get air in. Stupid anxiety attack. She’d had them before.
She crossed the floor to one of the three windows covered by blue curtains and opened it. As she gulped in the fresh air, trying to catch her breath, she didn’t notice the shadow slipping into the room.
“Hello, daughter.”
Benie’s eyes widened as she pivoted around. Standing less than six inches from her was Garrick. He was wearing a sweater vest over a man’s blue dress shirt, buttoned tight from the collar to the cuffs, looking all Mr. Rogers meets Nightmare on Elm Street. The short, neatly cut gray hair and fashionable wire-framed glasses finished out the effect.
Before Benie could scream, his hand went over her mouth. She smelled the pungent aroma of a sweet honey. Her legs felt suddenly wobbly, and her mind fogged. A couple seconds more and she passed out cold.
Chapter 19
“The compound is impenetrable, even if we knew for sure Garrick had her, which we don’t. He’s taken precautions to make sure no one can sneak back in.” Myron Gray paced the room outside the midwife’s office. Max, Destan, and Eustan, all dressed in identical jeans and black T-shirts, which made them impossible to tell apart, stood near the office door. Ty Wasape, who stood taller than the brothers, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.
Trace picked up a medical book from the sink and chucked it against the wall. “He fucking has her. Proof or no proof, you know it as well as I do.”
The triplets took a step, but Gray gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. The three dragons relaxed. The small man raised his hand toward Trace in a “calm down” gesture. “Likely,” he said. “But until we know for certain, there’s no sense in rushing in blindly and getting ourselves killed in the process.”
“He has her,” Trace said firmly, the overwhelming frustration making his voice sharp.
Ian shook his head, and Trace could tell he’d been fighting the shift, his wolf’s demand for action, for nearly two hours. “We have to think about this logically. Why would Garrick take her? Wouldn’t he just have her killed on sight?”
Trace punched the top of the desk, his body vibrating with sheer rage. “Do you think she left on her own? That bastard has her, and there’s no telling what he’s already done to her by now. I can’t allow it. I won’t…”
The silence after Trace’s outburst sat in the room like three-day old tuna.
“I’m not disagreeing with you,” Ian finally said. “I think you’re right. But he must not want to kill her anymore. At least not right away. Think about it. Our marks are still active. She’s alive. If Garrick wanted her dead, we wouldn’t still feel the Triune.”
“She’s alive.” Trace’s hand went absently to the mark on his shoulder.
“Exactly.” Ian threw up his arms. “She’s alive. We both know it. So…”
“We need more information.”
“Yes.”
Trace half-mused, “You know, you’re pretty smart sometimes.”
“I have my moments. If I’d been really smart I never would’ve left Benie alone in the room. That would’ve been genius.”
Trace agreed with Ian. They shouldn’t have left Benie alone in the room. He turned to Gray. “Whatever happens, it needs to happen fast. Before Benie becomes toxic to herself.” He didn’t add and the pregnancy, because if they couldn’t save Benie, then nothing else mattered.
“We make a plan,” Gray said. “I’ve already got Eustan on every contact he has in the Caledon regime. So far, no one has heard anything.”
“You have a burner I can use?” Trace asked.
Gray snapped his fingers and the large Native American bear shifter reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a flip phone. He handed it to Trace.
Ian sidled next to him. “Who are you calling?”
“Someone who owes me a favor.”
* * * *
Keane Silvertail paced the floor of his office. Since Calder’s escape, Garrick had shut him completely out. The king of Caledon refused to allow Keane to put wardens on him for a protection detail, and according to Keane’s ears in the palace, the king had been coming and going in frequent intervals…until last night. They reported that Garrick had closed off his chambers and ordered, “No one in or out,” on the penalty of death.
What was the lunatic up to now? The man had been unstable for as long as Keane had been chief warden. But unstable or not, Garrick had had the right of rule, and Keane was loyal to the throne as had his father and his father’s father. He still could find no information or confirmation about the girl Garrick wanted dead, but from the tattoo on Trace Calder’s shoulder, Keane had a developed a theory about her. If he was right about the woman, the wound in Caledon made by Garrick’s rule might be healed.
His phone rang. The number unknown. He swiped his finger across the screen and put it to his ear.
“Hello?”
A female voice on the other end said, “We need to talk.”
“Shade?”
* * * *
Benie’s mind drifted, heavy with fog and disorientation. The last thing she remembered was the triumphant look on Garrick’s face, right before…She bolted upright, ready for him this time.
Ow. Her head throbbed with the sudden movement and the brightness of the room. As her eyes adjusted, she took in her surroundings. The king-sized bed she rested on was soft and plush, covered in rose pink silk sheets and down pillows. The floors were white marble with blush pink veins. The high white walls were accented by billowy curtains of a darker rose color, making the tile colors pop.
Confused, she propped herself up on one elbow. Not what she expected. Instead of shackles, her arms were adorned with gold-colored forearm cuffs—too light and too hard a metal for real gold. Her legs were decorated similarly with three-inch wide anklets, and she felt a metal collar around her neck. The hospital gown was gone and replaced with a diaphanous floor length gown.
“Oh man.” A sinking feeling formed in her gut. “I’m dead.” She scrambled from the bed and padded across the cold floor to the nearest window. There were white bars no more than two inches apart behind the pane of glass. Every window was the same. She tried the door.
Locked.
If this beautiful prison turned out to be the afterlife…
Voices carried from beyond the door. Benie scooted her body tight against the wall, positioning herself so that if the door opened, she’d have the element of surprise. The jiggle of a key in the lock brought her to full alert. She shimmied from the gown as her skin rippled and changed to adapt to the white wall and marble floors, everything except those flipping gold bands. Benie tried to slide them off. They wouldn’t budge. She looked for a latch, anything that would pop them open. They appeared to be solid. “Crap.”
Benie scouted the room looking for something, anything to use as a weapon. Other than the bed and its bedding, the room was bare. She didn’t think a pillow fight was the best means of defense.
She ran to the nearest window and yanked down the high curtain. An aluminum dowel fell with it. “Fan-fucking-tastic.” It was flimsy and blunted on both ends.
Keeping it anyway—if nothing else it might startle whoever came in—she ran back toward the door, sliding the last couple of feet as it opened.
A dark blond man stepped inside. He wore black pants with black leather boots and a white shirt, which fit him snugly across his broad chest. A jagged scar ran down the left side of his face, red and puckered, fresh. She recognized him as the amphyr from the fight after Trace’s escape. The wound had been made from Benie’s knife. How had he survived the bullet wound to his heart?
His left eyelid had been sewn shut, while his other eye, ice blue, stared down at Benie with cold contemplation. The effect was instantly terrifying, especially since she had no defense against the brute.
So much for the element of surprise. She screamed, bringing the curtain rod around in an arcing swing. Unsurprisingly it snapped in half as it hit the hulking man’s shoulder. Without flinching, he kicked the door closed behind him.
Benie followed with a palm heel strike, thrusting her arm straight up with her hand flat and her wrist locked. She connected with his nose, and he staggered back, dark blood gushing from his nostrils.
The door flew open and a hulking barbarian with pale blond hair and bronze skin ran inside. He had a sword held aloft his head, and without hesitation he charged forward.
Benie yelped, scrambling backward, as she recognized him as the man who’d brought Trace to her during the rescue. Easily, he sliced through the neck of one-eye. The amphyr’s head hit the floor before his body.
She knew the guy stalking toward her. She’d seen him in Trace’s mind when he’d showed Benie what happened to him. Keane Silvertail. The man who’d tortured her mate.
