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As he left the gym, I felt an unfamiliar clench of jealousy. Brien had mated a human, after all—a slayer, for fuck’s sake. Yeah, she’d later asked to be turned, but at the time, he hadn’t known she would and had claimed her anyway.
I reminded myself that I’d made that pact with Cain for a reason, and that nothing had changed. If anything, now I’d made lieutenant, it was even more critical for me to mate with a vampire. Brien—my primus—clearly believed so.
So then why did my chest feel like a boa constrictor was wrapped around it? A boa constrictor that squeezed tighter with every breath I took?
19
Eden
“So.” Rio faced me on the couch. “What’re you going to name the kid? Because ‘Rio’ would be so dope. We can call him Rio the second.”
He stretched out his long legs along the cushions, forcing me to inch closer to the far end as I hemmed a pair of tiny purple joggers (Rio’s suggestion after he’d come across a bolt of purple fleece at Bluebeard Cove’s craft store).
I chewed on my lower lip like I was actually considering his naming suggestion. “Uh, no.”
“Why not?”
“Because there’s only one you. Two Rios would be a travesty. Think what the kid would have to live up to.”
His mouth hooked up. “True.”
We met each other’s eyes and laughed.
“Seriously, though.” He rested his feet, encased in thick orange-and-blue socks, against my thigh. “What are you going to name him?”
I moved a shoulder. “I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it.”
“Huh. What names are on the list?”
“I like Talon.”
“Not bad. It’s badass, you know?” Folding his arms under his head, he contemplated the ceiling while I finished hemming the first leg and moved to the second. “So the kid would be Talon, Junior?”
“Nah—I don’t like Juniors. We can give him a different middle name.”
“Does Talon have a middle name?”
“No.” I pushed the needle through the folded fleece. “He only uses his first name. It’s not unusual with vampires.”
“Really?”
“Mm-hmm. I think it’s because after they’re turned, they cut their human connections. Most of them, anyway. Talon takes care of his mom.”
“She’s still alive?”
I nodded. “She’s in her sixties, I guess. I don’t know about his dad—he’s not in the picture.”
I finished the hem and cut and tied the thread before stabbing the needle into a pincushion. “What d’you think?” I held up the tiny pants.
“Let me see,” Rio said and I tossed them on his lap. He held them up in front and made a comical face. “You sure they’re big enough? They look like they’re for a doll.”
“He’s only going to be seven or eight pounds when he’s born.”
“That’s insane.”
“They grow fast.”
“If you say so.” He threw the joggers back to me. “They’re pretty lit, though. You should make him a tiny hoodie to go with them.”
