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I deserve to be in hell, and so I will remain in it, from this day to my last day, no matter how many times Annie Wonderfully’s perfect smile floats through my mind, making me long for deliverance.
Chapter 3
Annie
Six weeks later…
I stare at the positive pregnancy test on the side of the sink in my upstairs bathroom, dumbfounded and…happier than I can remember being in my entire life. I’m literally trembling with joy, grateful tears slipping down my cheeks as my gaze locks on the plus sign in the display window.
It’s a miracle.
A winter solstice gift from the Goddess.
“Hey there, baby,” I whisper, my hand hovering over the still flat place between my hipbones.
I swear I can feel her in there, my sweet little girl, growing stronger with every passing day. I can almost see her, a freckle-faced sprite with my light brown hair, my mother’s bowtie lips, and her father’s dark, deep-feeling eyes.
Her father…
I sit down hard on the closed toilet lid, my head spinning as I try to make sense of it all.
Vampires aren’t supposed to be able to have children. Their reproductive organs don’t come back online after the change. I haven’t studied vampire anatomy in any depth, so I’m not sure the exact science behind it, but I know for a fact that vampires can’t make babies.
It’s one of the reasons Blaire and Darcy are perfect for each other.
I’ve been daydreaming about being a mom since I was little, but Blaire’s never been interested. She loves kids and being an auntie; she simply doesn’t want any children of her own. Once she’s had time to think about it, I’m sure she’ll be relieved that she and Darcy will never have to worry about birth control.
As if summoned by my thoughts, distant moans and high-pitched cries echo up through the drain in the sink, confirming that Darcy and Blaire are still “making up” in the basement.
Vigorously making up, by the sound of it…
Meanwhile, Sophie is downstairs setting the table for dinner, while my sister Casey and her daughter, Amy, get settled in their room on the third floor.
I still have a little time.
Time to figure out how to proceed, and how much of this miracle to keep to myself…
A part of me is dying to run screaming through the house, squealing the happy news into the ears of anyone who will listen. But the more cautious part of me warns that my sisters are notoriously awful at keeping secrets. They try, but we all grew up sleeping in a puppy pile in the same big bed and sharing every toy, scrap of food, and item of threadbare clothing for too long.
We don’t have firm personal boundaries.
As a family, we’re enmeshed at a cellular level and always up in each other’s business.
Sophie, my long-lost twin, was raised separately from the rest of us by her “mother”—aka the nightmare person who stole her from our real mom the night Sophie and I were born—but she loves to gossip as much as the rest of my sisters. She might be able to keep a secret if I made her swear on her vintage copy of Jane Eyre, but then, she might not…and I don’t want to risk word getting to Baron about the pregnancy just yet.
I don’t know him well, but I know enough about tortured, broody vampires to realize he won’t be thrilled by our miraculous conception. He might even want me to terminate the pregnancy. And while I can’t imagine him forcing the issue if I say no—he’s far kinder and more compassionate than he gives himself credit for—I don’t want to introduce unnecessary stress into the process when my little one is at her most vulnerable.
The first twelve weeks of gestation are always iffy. It’s why Casey didn’t tell us about Amy until she was nearly five months along.
Sadly, miscarriages happen all the time, and Casey knew that. I know it, too. And I know that convincing my baby daddy that he’ll be a wonderful father isn’t going to be easy. It will likely be even harder than convincing him that he should let go and let himself fall madly in love with me, even though I can tell he wants to.
I could see it in his eyes that night, feel it in every stroke of his body into mine. Baron feels the bone-deep connection between us every bit as much as I do, but for some reason he’s decided he isn’t worthy of love. That’s why he told me to stay away from him—forever and ever—the morning after he took my ancient virginity amongst a chorus of orgasms that are still ringing in my ears six weeks later.
Even with what I now realize must be morning sickness souring my stomach, I still wake every morning from erotic dreams featuring Baron’s hands and lips and tongue doing all those things he does oh-so-well.
Sex, it turns out, is every bit as fan-fudging-tastic as the rumors would have one believe. It was so incredible, in fact, that I would be deeply saddened I’d waited thirty-four years to try it, if I thought any other man could make me feel the things Baron did.
But no man could have before, and no man ever will.
