My females.
Mine.
Claiming Jolie was a pleasure and joy I’d never let myself dream of. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring her into my life, a gift from the goddess.
The claiming wasn’t just about Jolie, though that would have been enough to reshape my entire existence. When I looked at Lilibet, her small body sleeping peacefully curled against my chest, something fundamental shifted inside me.
I had never wanted to be a father. The very concept had seemed foreign for someone like me. But watching Lilibet laugh, witnessing how she looked at me with absolute trust awakened something deep and tender I didn’t know I possessed. She was my daughter, in every way that mattered. The thought of anyone threatening her, of her ever knowing the kind of darkness I’dgrown up in, of her thinking she was anything less than perfect made my blood burn with fury.
Together, they had given me something I’d never believed I deserved. A family. A reason to be braver… to be better than what I was.
I lifted a hand, my fingertips threading through Lilibet’s impossibly soft pink curls, each strand feeling like spun silk. The delicate ringlets caught the dim light, creating a halo of rose-gold that framed her sleeping face. When another hand joined mine in stroking her hair, I glanced upward to find Jolie watching me with an expression that made my breath catch in my throat.
Her eyes were liquid amber, half-lidded and drowsy, radiating a bone-deep contentment that seemed to emanate from her soul. The way she looked at me sent warmth blooming through my chest. I felt the gentle pressure of her hand against mine, our fingers still tangled in Lilibet’s curls, creating an invisible thread of connection that pulsed with unspoken understanding.
The stillness of the moment enveloped us, broken only by Lilibet’s rhythmic breathing, a gentle lullaby that seemed to slow time itself. I sensed the weight of Jolie’s gaze as it traced the contours of my face, her eyes speaking a language that transcended words, conveying depths of emotion that made my heart race.
Jolie’s fingers gave the most delicate squeeze while the corners of her mouth curved into a smile so tender it nearly undid me.
My mind spiraled helplessly to memories of her beneath me, her skin flushed with passion, her body arching against me as waves of pleasure crashed over her. The memory of her climaxing in my arms remained etched in my mind. The need to touch her, to taste her, became an almost physical ache. Unableto bear the sweet torture any longer, I shifted, drawing myself closer until I could finally press my lips to hers.
The kiss was tender at first, a gentle meeting of lips. Her mouth was warm and soft beneath mine, yielding in a way that made my heart flutter against my ribs. I could taste the sweetness of her breath, felt the delicate tremor that ran through her as our mouths moved together.
When she deepened the kiss, her hand came up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing across my skin. There was something achingly beautiful about the way she kissed me. Unhurried, exploratory, as if she were memorizing the shape and texture of my lips. A soft sigh escaped her, barely audible, vibrating against my mouth in a way that sent heat cascading through my entire body. The world narrowed to this single point of connection, this gentle dance of lips and breath.
“What are you doing?”
The simple question, delivered in that drowsy, sugary-sweet voice that could melt the hardest heart, broke our lips apart. We glanced down in unison to find Lilibet staring up at us, her emerald eyes bright and impossibly alert for someone who had been deep in slumber mere moments before.
A smile played across her features, innocent and curious. “Are you kissing?” she asked, her small head tilting slightly as she studied our faces.
Jolie’s fingers, still intertwined with mine in the mass of Lilibet’s curls, gave a gentle squeeze. Her laugh was soft and musical, a melody that seemed to dance on the edge of the early morning light filtering through the room. “We were,” she murmured, her gaze flickering to mine.
Lilibet’s eyes darted between us. Her pink curls were delightfully mussed from sleep, creating a halo that made her look impossibly adorable. “That’s not how you kiss me,” she observed with a matter-of-fact tone.
Jolie’s cheeks bloomed with a pink as dark as Lilibet’s curls. “No,” she began, her usual eloquence deserting her as she seemed suddenly at a loss for words, her amber eyes widening with amused panic.
“No,” I chuckled softly, the sound rumbling low in my chest as my gaze centered on Lilibet’s face. “Only mates kiss like this.”
“Mates?” Lilibet repeated, her small brow furrowing in confusion, the word rolling around her tongue as if she were tasting something entirely foreign. I glanced at Jolie, understanding passing between us like a shared breath. She’d worked so tirelessly to shield Lilibet from the harsh realities of harem life. But in order to shield Lilibet from the reality of her dealings with Qurbaga, she’d kept her completely sheltered regarding male-female relationships.
“Like mommies and daddies who live together with their younglings,” Jolie explained, her voice taking on that gentle, storytelling cadence she used when weaving tales for Lilibet. Her smile was wistful, touched with a bittersweet longing that made my chest tighten. I could only imagine the countless stories she’d told Lilibet about how families were supposed to be, something she most likely never thought either she or the youngling would ever experience. Her gaze met mine, those liquid amber eyes shimmering. “Mommies and daddies who love each other.”
Lilibet’s green eyes narrowed, her features arranging themselves into the most serious expression a three-year-old could muster. She fixed me with a look that seemed far too knowing for someone so small. “Do you love MeMe?” she asked bluntly.
Love.
It was not a word in the Zarpazian language, yet I understood the concept thanks to Vraxxan and Lucy. I knew what it meant, and I knew without a doubt that I felt it—feltit with a fierce, consuming intensity that burned through every fiber of my being.
“Yes,” I admitted, the word emerging barely above a whisper, raw with vulnerability. My gaze found Jolie’s across the space between us, and my heart lay itself bare. “Yes, I love her.”
Lilibet’s attention shifted, those bright eyes now studying Jolie’s face with the same unwavering focus. “Do you love him, MeMe?” She delivered the question with the same matter-of-fact tone, as if she were simply cataloging the most natural truths in the universe.
Jolie’s breath caught audibly, a soft tremor running through her entire being like ripples across still water. Her eyes shifted from me to Lilibet, her expression transforming into something profound.
“Yes,” she whispered. The word emerged like a prayer, like a confession, like a promise all wrapped into one precious syllable. “Yes, I love him.”
“Good,” Lilibet declared, punctuating her pronouncement with a yawn so broad it made her entire face scrunch. Her eyelids fluttered with the approaching pull of sleep, but her voice carried perfect clarity as she added, “I love DeDe too.”
