The Beast

THIRTY-NINE

“So will you tell me more about the people you live with?”

As Bitty asked the question from the backseat of the GTO, Mary glanced at Rhage. The three of them were on the way home, all kinds of ice cream in their stomachs, most of the tension gone from the whole “dad” thing. But boy, that had been a difficult moment—well, for everyone but Bitty. She hadn’t seemed to care one way or the other.

The same couldn’t be said of the two adults with her. Nothing like shining a light on the kid-less issue like that. But at least the rest of the outing had been a wild success.

“More on my people, huh.” Rhage looked up into the rearview and smiled. “Lemme see. Who’s next. We’ve covered the King, the animals, and Lassiter. Who actually should be lumped in with the animals, really. So . . . okay, have you ever met a set of twins before?”

“No, never. I wasn’t allowed to leave my house.”

Rhage blinked. “I’m sorry, Bitty. That must have been very hard.”

“My father didn’t want us to see anyone.”

Mary had to catch herself from wincing.

And as Rhage frowned, she felt him take her hand.

“Lemme ask you something, Bitty,” he said.

“Okay.”

“How did you learn to read? And you speak really well.”

“My mahmen was a teacher. Before she mated my father.”

“Ah.”

Mary turned in her seat. “Would you like to be a teacher, too?”

The little girl’s brows lifted. “Yes, I think I would. But I don’t know where to go to school for that. My mahmen went to school in South Carolina.”

Mary tried to show no reaction. “Really? Your mother never said she was from there.”

“That’s where her parents lived. But they died.”

“I’d heard there was a colony down there,” Rhage chimed in.

“My father was a migrant worker. He used to move with the seasons, working for humans, until he met her. Then they came up here and he became an electrician for the species. His drinking got bad and that’s when things changed. I was born after the bad part happened—or maybe I was the reason for it.”

Mary kept quiet, both because she was hoping Bitty would continue, but also because it was really hard to hear any child say something like that. And then she frowned as she recognized that they were getting close to Safe Place.

Glancing at Rhage, she intended to encourage him to keep going—but he subtly nodded, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Maybe if he continued driving, Bitty would keep talking.

Because none of this was in her or her mother’s file.

“Sometimes,” Mary said, “alcohol can really hurt people.”

“My father was the one who hit us. Not the beer he was drinking.”

Mary cleared her throat. “Very true, Bitty.”

The girl fell silent, and then before Mary could say anything else, she spoke up again.

“May I ask you something, Ms. Luce?”

Mary twisted around once more and nodded as she met the girl’s eyes. “Anything.”

“You said your mahmen had died, right?”

“Yes, she did.”

“So where did you do her Fade ceremony?”

“Well, Bitty, it’s a . . .” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “The truth is, I used to be human, Bitty.”

The little girl recoiled. “I . . . didn’t know.”

“It’s a very, very long story. But I met him and fell in love.” She put her hand on Rhage’s shoulder. “And then some other things happened. And I’ve been in the vampire world ever since. My life is here, with you all, and I’m not going back to where I once was.”

Bitty’s brows drew in tight over the bridge of her nose. “But what happened to your family? Did you bring them with you?”

“It was just my mom and me. And after she died? I had nothing to keep me in that world. Thanks to Rhage . . .” She glanced at him and smiled. “Well, because of him I found my new family.”

“Do you have young?”

Mary shook her head. “No, and I can’t bear children.”

Once again with that recoil. “Ever?”

“No. It just wasn’t in the cards for me. But I have my work at Safe Place and there are so many kids there who need my help.” Like you, for instance. “So I make my contribution to the future, to young people, that way.”

Bitty frowned for the longest time; then she looked at Rhage. “What about you? Do you have young? Before you met . . . well, her?”

Rhage reached out again, his big hand taking Mary’s in a warm, strong grip. “I guess I can have them. But if it’s not going to be with her, then it’s not going to be with anybody.”

“My mahmen said young are the biggest blessing in life.”

Mary nodded through a sudden pain in her heart. “And she was very right about that.”

“So, twins?” Bitty prompted.

Rhage took a deep breath, like he was having to force himself back into normal conversation. “Ah, yup. Twins. So, anyway, we have a set in our house. They’re identical, but they don’t really look anything alike.”

“How is that possible?”

“Well, one was taken as a blood slave.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a practice that’s been outlawed by the King. It’s where one person holds another against their will, using them as a blood source. Zsadist was scarred during his escape, and Phury, his twin—who was the one who got him out—lost part of his leg in the process. But everything worked out. They’re both mated now, and Z has the cutest damn—er, darn—young on the planet. You’d like Nalla. She’s a peach of a toddler.”

“I think I would like to have young someday.”

Mary turned around once again. “And so you will.”

“But you can’t, right? So what if that happens to me?”

“Well, maybe it could. But I like to believe that if you think positively, positive things happen. So visualize yourself in a happy family, mated to a male who loves you and takes care of you and lets you take care of him. And then see that infant of yours all warm and squirmy in your arms. See her eyes that are like yours, or maybe his hair that’s like his father’s. Visualize it and think positively, and make it happen.”

“And anyway,” Rhage chimed in, “even if you can’t bear your young, you can maybe adopt one. Or work with kids, like Mary does. There are always ways around things.”

“Always,” Mary agreed.

They drove along for a little more, and then Rhage headed back to Safe Place. As he pulled up to the curb and put the GTO in park, he cleared his throat.

“So, Bitty.”

“Yes?”

Rhage cranked his massive shoulders around so he could look back at the girl. “I have to work tomorrow night, but the night after I have off. Will you have dinner with Mary and me? I want to go out to eat.”

“To a restaurant?” Bitty asked.

“Yup. TGI Fridays—ever been?”

“Well, no, actually.”

“So what do you say?”

Annnnnd this is just one more reason to love him, isn’t it, Mary thought.

Getting out, she popped the top half of her seat and held it forward.

Bitty looked up at her. “Is that okay, Ms. Luce?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then yes, please.”

“Great!” Rhage clapped his hands. “Oh, my God, you have to totally get the brownie sundae. It’s amazing.”

Bitty stood at the curb for a moment. Then she lifted her hand in good-bye. “Thank you. For the ice cream.”

“Can’t wait for dinner!”

Mary put the seat back into place, leaned in and planted her palm on the still-warm leather from where she’d been sitting. “I’ll see you back home?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Stretching forward, she kissed him on the mouth. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, my Mary.” Rhage tugged her down for another kiss and lowered his voice. “Baths are fun. Did you know that?”

As a smile hit her face and stayed there, she cocked a brow. “Oh, really?”

“I think I’ll run one and get in it right before Last Meal. Come find me?”

“Does this mean we’re eating in our room again?”

“God, I hope so.”

She laughed as she straightened out of the car. “I’ll be home regular time, okay?”

“And you know where to find me!”

As she stepped away, she found Bitty staring back and forth between them. And then the car was roaring and Rhage skidded the tires, leaving tracks.

Mary laughed. “Such a show-off.”

“What does that mean?”

“He’s trying to impress us with his driving.” The pair of them started for the house. “Guys do that. They can’t help it.”

Coming up to the front door, Mary entered the code, and as she opened things wide, the scent of chocolate-chip cookies wafted into her nose.

“Wow. Twice this week with the Toll House.”

She wanted to suggest to Bitty that they follow the sounds of laughter and talking back to the big kitchen and hang out with everyone, but the girl went directly to the stairs. Hoping for some other opening, or chance to talk, Mary followed her up to the second floor, and stopped on the landing in front of her office.

“You’re going to head for the attic?” she said. “I’ll be here doing paperwork if you need anything. Or, you know, if you want to go make cookies?”

Bitty shrugged out of that big, puffy parka. “I think I’ll sit in my room. But thank you.”

“Okay. Well, good-night.”

“Good-night—”

“I’ll be here. Until just before dawn.”

“Thank you.”

Mary stayed where she was, in front of the open door to her office, as Bitty went to the stairs—

It happened so fast. One moment, the girl was walking away. The next, she had turned around and rushed back across the distance.

Her arms went around Mary quick as a breath and held on for no longer than that.

And then Bitty was gone, ascending to the attic without sparing another word or glance.

Mary stood where she was.

For quite some time.

Okay, so then that happened, V thought as his words hung in the air between him and Jane.

You ever think about having kids?

As his mate went really still and very quiet, he cursed under his breath—but that was not the kind of inquiry you could take back. Even if there was a half-dead enemy lying on a gurney between the pair of you.

And the two of you were, like, surrounded by a thousand hearts in jars.

And it was in the middle of a worknight for both parties.

Holy shit, had that really come out of his mouth.

Oh, and P.S., he was so hitting Rhage again when he saw the brother next. Even though this wasn’t technically Hollywood’s fault. All the guy had done was pose the question because, clearly, it was something on his own mind.

V was still gonna punch him, though.

“Wow,” Jane said slowly. She rubbed her nose and tucked her blond hair back. “That’s a surprise.”

“Look, forget I ever said anything—”

“No, I won’t. And are you asking because you want them or because you want to know what I think?”

“I want to know what you think.”

And yeah, it was maybe weird that it hadn’t come up before now, but it had been clear Jane couldn’t have any, biologically speaking, when they’d commited to each other, and a lot of shit had been going on since then.

“Well, how do you feel?” she said.

“I asked you first.”

“Is this a game of chicken? Or an intimate conversation?”

They both fell silent. And then at the same time they said, in exactly the same tone:

“It’s not a priority for me.”

“It’s not a priority for me.”

As V laughed, Jane did, too, and he got the impression that as the tension flowed out of his body, something similar was happening for her, her stance loosening, her exhale one of relief.

“Look,” V said, “L.W. and Nalla are cute and all. But I’m interested in them because they’re a part of Wrath’s and Z’s lives, not because I want something like that for us. Unless, you know, it became a big deal for you.”

“Well, I can’t have kids. I mean, I’m technically dead.” She rolled her eyes. “Can I just tell you, every once in a while, when I say something like that, I get existential whiplash? Like, how the hell did this become my life—not that it isn’t a miracle or anything. But jeez.”

“And you’re mated to a demi-god.”

“Did you just promote yourself?”

“Maybe. Can you blame me?” As she laughed, exactly as he’d intended her to, V got serious again. “Adoption is difficult in the vampire race, but it can be an option.”

“True. Very true.” Jane shrugged. “But you know, I was never one of those women who planned out her wedding or saw rainbow mobiles over the cribs of babies. Not that I’ve seen many babies in cribs.” She frowned. “Holy crap. I’ve actually . . . I don’t think I’ve ever seen a baby sleeping in a crib.”

“And you’re not a freak because of that. I can tell what you’re thinking.”

“Yeah.” She rubbed the back of her neck. Then shook herself as if clearing away thoughts that she refused to buy into. “I mean, of course, I’m not. Just because women can be mothers doesn’t mean they have to be.”

V had to smile a little. But then he shook his head. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with us. And actually, I hate that I just felt the need to say that.”

“Compatibility is the issue. If one of us wanted them and the other didn’t? Then that’s a problem.”

Jane came over to him and put her hands on his shoulders. And it was funny: Ordinarily he couldn’t stand people getting very close to him. Not because of some kind of horrific abuse—although his father’s partial castration of him hadn’t been a party, granted—but because tons of contact and closeness was just too much sensation for his brain to process.

With Jane, though, he never felt crowded.

Same with Butch.

Maybe because the two of them seemed to understand the overload thing with him.

“You look worried,” she said as she brushed his hair back and traced the tattoos at his temple with her forefinger.

“I don’t want anything to come between us. Ever.”

“That’s up to you and me, though, right? So why be anxious?”

“Rhage and Mary have been going through a time.”

“Over having babies? Are they okay now?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“Good.” She leaned her head to one side. “And as for you and me? We can’t predict the future. No one can. So we talk and we sort things out and we keep going. Together. I can’t fathom, right now, a scenario where all of a sudden some biological clock starts ringing and I have a compelling need to do the parent thing. I guess, for me, I don’t feel like anything is missing in my life. There are no hollow spaces that require filling. I have you, I have my work, and I reject the notion entirely that all women are destined to be mothers. Some of us are and some of us aren’t, and the awesome thing is, we get to choose. Same goes for men. So yeah, we just keep talking and everything is going to work out—no matter what the outcome happens to look like.”

Vishous stared down from his greater height, and somehow felt smaller than she was. “You always make sense.”

“I don’t know about that. But I do try to look at everything from all angles and be logical as much as I can—”

“I don’t think I can be a father, Jane.”

His mate shook her head. “I know where you’re going with that. Your parents are not you—and besides, that’s the wrong way to put it. The question is, Do you want to be a father?”

He tried to imagine being weighed down as Wrath and Z were, constantly worrying about some little creature and whether it was killing itself. Yeah, sure, there were good parts to the experience; the joy on his brothers’ faces was very real. But, God, the work.

Was he using that as an excuse, though?

Whatever. “Definitely not right now. No, I do not want to be a father right now.”

“So that’s what we go with. And if it changes, we address it. Same for me.”

“I would never want anything on this planet to hate me as much as I hate my parents.”

There. He said it.

“Lot of reasons to support that position,” Jane whispered as she stroked his face. “And I am so very sorry.”

“Don’t tell me I should go talk to Mary about it, okay? I’m not interested in that shit, true?”

“You know where she is if you need her. And I don’t have to tell you that she would be available to you anytime if you asked.” Jane brushed his hair back. “And I have to say this. As awful as your mother can be . . . without her? You and I wouldn’t be together.”

He frowned, thinking of when he’d found Jane in that crumpled Audi at the side of the road. None of his life-support measures had done a goddamn thing. She had remained unmoving as he had tried to bring her back.

For some reason, the image of his mother up on that bedding platform resurfaced and wouldn’t be stuffed back down underground. The shit lingered . . . like it was a message of some sort.

“I really trust you,” he heard himself say to his shellan.

“And I love you, too, Vishous.”