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A directive from Azrael, no doubt.
He’s been distracted, locked inside his head, but he always comes back to me at night. The moment we’re alone in the sanctuary of our bedroom, he’s on me. We spend every night lost in each other, doing what comes naturally to us. He makes love to me like every day might be our last. I know that’s what I’m afraid of, but I can’t bring myself to admit it because speaking the words out loud gives them credence. It makes it real, this idea that the curse is too powerful, that it may never be broken… that even if he’s chosen not to sacrifice me, it doesn’t mean our story won’t end in tragedy.
Looking at him this morning, I can see it in his eyes. Beneath his determination to protect me, fear still lingers. We haven’t spoken of Salomé or Caleb. I don’t know if he’s even had any updates on The Disciples, and truthfully, I don’t have the energy to ask right now. Between spending hours every night with Azrael wearing me out and this pregnancy, I think we’re both exhausted.
“What do you think?” Azrael asks.
We stand side by side, observing the adjacent room that used to house my things. Now, my belongings are in the bedroom I share with Azrael, while this space is slowly starting to look more like a nursery. There are small touches of pink from the items we chose together. Blankets, stuffed toys, a framed piece of art yet to be hung. The baby’s clothes are folded on a table, waiting for a place to store them. We ordered furniture and a crib—all a shade of cream for a new beginning. But those things will take time to arrive.
“I think the walls need to be redecorated,” I say, forcing the words past the knot in my throat. “I want to do something soft in pink and cream.”
“I’ll hire a contractor,” Azrael agrees. “We can have it done this week.”
Despite the tension in my gut, I can’t help smiling at him. Everything with him is just that simple. I ask, and he supplies. There’s never any argument about that. If I want something, he makes it happen without question. And I know if he gets the chance—if we get the chance to see this child grow—he’ll be a good father.
“I was thinking about names.” I turn to face him, subconsciously touching the wedding ring on my finger.
Azrael arches a brow, and I’m not sure if he realizes where I’m going with this. It’s impossible to miss the frisson of tension in his jaw. We’ve had an argument from the beginning of our marriage over my last name, and I don’t think he wants to rehash it.
“I know it’s still early,” I say. “And I could probably look through a hundred baby name books and change my mind, but I feel strongly about this.”
“Okay.” He shifts. “What is it?”
“I realize our families have a complicated history,” I tell him. “But if it weren’t for that history, we would never have found each other.”
His eyes soften a fraction as he reaches down to touch my face. “I want to believe I would have always found you somehow, Willow. You were meant to be mine.”
My heart quickens as I place my hand over his. “I know.”
A beat passes, and it would be easy to get lost in each other right now. But I want to finish our conversation before I forget. Azrael seems to sense this, and although I’m sure he’s wary about where this conversation might be headed, he urges me to continue.
“You were talking about names?”
“Yes.” I offer him a tentative smile. “I was thinking about a way to honor our families and begin anew. An olive branch, of sorts. So, I came up with a combination of your mother’s name, along with the woman who ultimately brought us together. What do you think of Amélie Elizabeth Delacroix?”
The softness in his eyes transforms to warmth as he grazes my chin with his fingers. “That’s… perfect.” His voice dips as he repeats the name reverently. “Amélie Elizabeth. I love it.”
“So, it’s settled then?” I ask hopefully.
“Settled.” He nods. “I was expecting another fight about the last name.”
“I know,” I admit. “But I’ve been giving that some thought too.”
His eyes move between mine, the gold more intense than I’ve ever seen it as he waits for me to explain.
“If we’re determined to break this curse, the first step should be putting the past behind us, right?”
He pulls me closer, the heat of his body pressing against mine. “What are you proposing?”
“In my heart, I will always be proud of my Wildblood heritage,” I say. “But I think, more than anything, I’m proud to be your wife. And I want all three of us to be united in this way. You, me, and Amélie should all have the Delacroix name.”
