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“They’re young.”
“And we’re so old.”
He laughed. “Younger. They can use a night of dissing each other over games, trash talking and bragging.”
He drew her into the bedroom, and into his arms. “And we can use this,” he said, took her mouth.
“There are things I want to tell you.”
“We’ve got all night to talk. I’ve missed you, Lana.” He drew out the pins she’d used to bundle her hair up while cooking. “I’ve missed shutting the world out so it’s just you and me.”
This first then, she thought. Yes, this first. The world shut away so all that remained was love.
He lit the fire; she lit the candles. And the glow of magick joined love.
From two feet away, she turned down the duvet with a sweep of her hand, making him laugh.
“A little something I’ve been working on.”
“So I see. Well, not to be outdone…” He lifted his hands, drew them down in the air. Her clothes slid off to pool at her feet.
Delighted, she looked down at herself. “This doesn’t seem like the act of a serious and sober witch.”
“It’s the act of a man who wants you. My lovely Lana. I haven’t taken enough time to just look at you.”
“We’ll take it now.” She opened her arms.
Yes, this, she thought. This time, with their hands on each other, their mouths meeting. She drew his sweater off to feel the shape of him—leaner than he had been, tauter. So much stress, she thought, so much work and worry.
She’d give him more than that tonight. So much more.
She thrilled at the way he swept her up, wrapped around her as they lay together on the cool sheets. He pressed her hand to his heart, then to his lips. She drew him down so their mouths met. Blessed, she thought, she was blessed to be so loved, to have such love inside her.
His hands, palms rougher than they’d been, roamed over her. He knew, he knew where she yearned to be touched, what glide and press would quicken her pulse. He knew where to taste to send the blood swimming under her skin.
Weak with love, she gave herself to him. Dizzy with lust, she shifted to rush kisses over his chest. His heart beat so strong, so vital. Hers galloped to match it.
She opened, took him in, held tight and close.
“This,” she whispered. “Just this for a moment.”
No movement, no urgency. Just held together, fitted into one. Just that moment of being with his eyes, that rich smoke, locked with hers.
Then she arched, lifted to him. Rose and fell with him, and let the moment, and the next, the next, the next, sweep them both away.
She thought of the night weeks ago, a world away, when they’d curled together like this, replete. When the light inside her had been struck.
With the fire simmering, the candles flickering, she combed her fingers through his hair. A little choppy, she thought with a smile, from her amateur attempt to trim it for him. She brushed her fingers over his cheek—rough with several days’ worth of stubble.
So many changes, she thought, small and enormous for both of them.
And the most enormous she’d yet to tell him.
“Max.” She rolled to sit up, realized then that he wasn’t just replete, but half asleep. The day, full of stress, effort, strain—personal, physical, magickal—wore hard.
She considered waiting until morning, then decided no, now, before she put the candles out. Now, while the act of their love still hummed in the air.
“Max,” she repeated. “I have something I need to tell you. It’s important.”
“Mmm.”
“Very important.”
His eyes flashed open. He pushed up. “What’s wrong? Something happened when I was gone today?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” She took his hand, and with her eyes on his, pressed his hand to her belly. “Max. We’re having a baby.”
“A—”
She saw it, all the layers. Confusion, shock, caution.
“Are you sure?”
Rather than speak, she got up, walked to the dresser, drew the pregnancy test out from where she’d hidden it. It sparkled in her hand. Then in his when she gave it to him.
“It’s what we made together. You. Me.”
He looked up at her, and she saw what she’d most needed. She saw the joy.
“Lana.” He drew her to him, pressing his face between her breasts. Breathed her in, breathed in the miracle of the moment.
“A child. Our child. Are you all right? Have you been sick? Do you—”
“I feel stronger than I ever have. I’m carrying what we made together. Our love, our light, our magick. You’re happy.”
“I don’t have words,” he told her. “Words are my business, but I don’t have the words for what I feel.” He laid a hand protectively over her belly. “Ours.”
“Ours,” she repeated, pressing her hand over his. “I want to keep it just ours for now. I don’t want to tell the others. Well, Eddie knows. I didn’t want to say anything to you until I was sure, so I asked him to get the test. But I don’t want to tell anyone else.”
“Why? It’s momentous. It’s beautiful.”
“Ours,” she said again. “Like tonight. Just ours. And maybe part of it is simple superstition. I think they say not to tell people until the end of the first trimester. And that’s about all I know about being pregnant. God.”
She sat beside him, immediately stood again. “And no alcohol. That’s off the table. It might be why that glass of wine Allegra gave me smelled off. Anyway. God! It’s not like I can just Google what to do and not to do, what to expect. I’m nervous about that part, about not knowing. And maybe I’m selfish and superstitious about not telling.”
“Then we won’t tell anyone else until you’re ready. And we’ll find out … whatever we need to.”
“How?”
“We’ll find a book. There has to be a library or a bookstore somewhere. In the meantime, we’ll use common sense. Rest when you need to rest, good nutrition.”
“I think there are special vitamins I’m supposed to take.”
“Maybe we can come up with those, too. But women have had babies for thousands of years without them.”
On a half laugh, she sent him a steely stare. “Easy for a man to say.”
“It is, isn’t it?” He reached for her hand. “I’ll take care of you, both of you, I swear it. This is meant, Lana. How it happened, when we took every precaution. When it happened. This sign,” he added, looking at the sparkle. “This child is meant. We’ll learn what needs to be done to bring him or her into the world, and to make the world safe for our child.”
She sat beside him again. “You always know how to keep me calm. Give me confidence. I believe you. This is meant. We’ll find a way.”
He turned her face to his, kissed her. “I love you. I love both of you already.”
“Max. I feel the same.”
He took her hands in his. “I pledge to you, all I am, all I have or will have. I will protect you, defend you, love you with every breath. Be my partner, my wife, my mate, from this moment.”
Her heart simply swelled. “I will. I am. I pledge to you, all I am, all I have or will have. I will protect you, defend you, love you with every breath. Be my partner, my husband, my mate, from this moment.”
“I will. I am.” He kissed their joined hands, then sealed the promise with his lips on hers.
“This is all we need between us, but I want to give you a ring. I want that symbol for us.”
“Both of us,” she said. “The circle, the symbol.”
“For both of us.” He lay down with her again, stroked her as they lay face-to-face. “I didn’t ask if you know how far along you are.”
“Nearly seven weeks.”
She saw the understanding in his eyes. “Of course. It’s meant,” he murmured, holding his wife and child.
* * *
The mood stayed bright, a study in group cooperation, for
two full weeks.
Max knew himself, and his brother. As predicted, they clashed more than once over practice and study. But Max reported to Lana they made progress.
Arguments broke out, but normal ones that ebbed and flowed as they might with any insular group.
An early March thaw melted some of the snow, and though it turned everything sloppy, the sign that spring would return someday lured everyone outside for longer stretches.
Poe scavenged a hunting bow and spent an hour practicing every day. Lana often watched him from the kitchen window as he shot arrows into a target he’d drawn on a square of plywood.
