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“Would that be such a bad idea?” I ask, and his hand stills, his head snapping up to look at me. “I mean, maybe not right this second, but perhaps, someday?”
“Are you saying that you want to have our babies, Nightingale?” Jude’s voice is an uncharacteristic whisper, and I glance over my shoulder to see him holding a tray with three mugs of what smells like hot chocolate.
I swallow, taking a second to think about it. I said the words to Aeron impulsively, but now that I really think about them, I see the truth. “Yes.”
Jude whoops, dropping the tray, hot chocolate spilling everywhere as he rushes over to the bed and launches himself onto it.
“What the fuck, Jude?!” Aeron yells, trying to sit up, but Jude is already wrapped around both of us and talking a mile a minute as he kisses every inch of me. My ribs twinge but I ignore the pain as Jude’s happiness infects every atom of my being.
“We’ll take them to Disneyland and Disney World, and Tarl can teach them how to throw knives, and I’ll show them where the best places are to kill a man in less than sixty seconds—”
“Jude!” I admonish him, laughing as he pushes me to my back and then settles between my legs, already hard and ready to go. “We cannot teach our future children how to kill and torture people!”
He pauses, his brows dipping as if I’m the crazy one for thinking that murder is not a suitable subject of education. “Why not? It’s a really useful skill set.”
“Well, regardless, it’s not happening now,” I tell him, my voice firm, although it’s fucking difficult to concentrate with his dick poking my rapidly dampening folds. The tearing wasn’t too bad, and I’m all healed up now according to Doc, though we haven’t taken things that far yet, the guys giving me time to fully heal, inside and out.
“No, you’re right,” Jude answers, leaping off me and strutting over to the door, his jaw set and his chin held high.
“Where are you going?” I sit up on my elbows, staring at his delicious fucking ass as he walks away, dick bobbing with every step he takes.
“We need to decorate a nursery,” he informs me matter-of-factly as if it’s obvious, not even pausing to look at me as he strides away. “We have a couple of spare rooms, so I’ll just start clearing one and get ordering. I think yellow is a good nursery color, don’t you?” He turns then and does look back at me, his gaze alert and unwavering, as if my answer is the difference between life and death.
“Um, yeah, I love yellow,” I haltingly reply, my head spinning with how we’ve gone from one of my nightmares to picking colors out for our future, nonexistent children’s nursery.
Jude just nods, sauntering out of the room, and stepping over the mess of hot chocolate as he goes. Aeron huffs a laugh, falling back on the bed and dragging me down with him. “You’ve started something now, Dove. I hope you were serious; Jude will join forces with Knox, and they’ll have you pregnant quicker than you can blink.”
“I’m not sure what just happened…” I blink rapidly, and he just laughs again, pulling me closer and pressing a kiss on the top of my head.
“Best get some sleep, my love. I’ve a feeling you’re going to be busy real soon.” His tone is full of amusement, and I give him a half-hearted whack on his hard pec, which hurts my hand more than him, the fucker.
“I’m not a broodmare, Devil Man,” I grouch, snuggling closer and letting my eyes drift shut.
“Not yet,” I hear him murmur, but sleep drags me under, his steady heartbeat a soft lullaby.
Lark
“Forgive the world” by Nessa Barrett
The next week passes by in a blur of contentment. Jude gets obsessed with the nursery, packages arriving daily as he buys everything and anything that a baby may or may not need.
Fucking hell, I should have kept my big mouth shut.
Knox and Tarl have clearly heard of our conversation, and I’m not surprised in the least when a hand-carved, light oak cradle arrives. Knox keeps sending me these searing looks that have my core aching to be filled, something which they are still refusing to do until they deem me fully recovered. Cuntblockers, the lot of them.
I’m getting bored being trapped inside all the time, even though it’s a self-inflicted isolation. I haven’t wanted to go outside really, choosing to stay indoors surrounded by my guys and just breathing them in. It's like our time in the cells has rocked my foundation, and I need them close at all times.
“I want to go somewhere,” I declare at breakfast one morning, licking syrup leftover from my pancakes off of my fork. I’m going to have to watch my weight around Jude, he’s a fucking feeder and his food is too delicious to refuse.
“Where would you like to go, Princess Nightingale?” Jude asks, and I smile at the new nickname. I like it.
“I don’t care, anywhere! I just want some fresh air,” I grumble, slumping in my seat and toying with the hem of the T-shirt I’m wearing. One of Knox’s I think, by the size and smell of cloves.
“Well,” Aeron says, striding into the room and looking every inch the polished, future gang leader he is in a pristine, navy blue suit. “How about we take a visit to the stables? They were finished a few days ago and Dad is placing his new Arabians in there today. Knox and Tarl are already there, lending a hand.”
My eyes widen and I leap from my seat, wrapping my arms around him.
“Yes! I’d love to see them,” I gush, placing a sticky kiss on his cheek and wrapping my arms around him in a hug. He doesn’t even grimace at the fact that I’ve made his suit less than pristine, instead, he just stares down at me with a smile twitching his luscious lips, his own arms encasing me.
