To The Fairest Page 3

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  That night I woke up to find Sam wrapped around me. His lips were moving against the back of my neck, his arms were strong and unyielding around my waist, and I could feel the hard line of his cock pressing against my ass. I shivered, sensation racing through me as desire struck full force. When he touched me, it was hard to remember why I had been so worried, so upset. It was hard to remember why I would try and keep secrets. All I wanted was his hands, his voice whispering against the shell of my ear, his nails dragging across the sensitive, quaking, surface of my abdomen. A threat as much as promise. I ground my hips against him. Arched my spine, lips parting on a sigh of pleasure. Then he was reaching for my pants, shoving them down, and biting a hungry trail along the side of my neck and shoulder.

  Things got hazy after that.

  Afterwards, I lay panting on his chest, my body slick with sweat. I was warm, relaxed, for the first time all day, and I ran my fingers through the long, dark, strands of his hair. Somehow comforted by familiar feel and scent of his curls.

  “I’m pregnant.” The words sort of stumbled out of my mouth. Fighting amongst each other to get free. I wanted to tense in preparation of his response but my womb was still quaking from the last orgasm he’d given me and my body wouldn’t let me forget the pleasure just yet. His hand, petting along my spine, down to the top of my buttocks, and back up again, never paused.

  “I know.” He said simply.

  I rested my chin on his chest so that I could look up at him laying amongst the pillows.

  “How?”

  His eyes softened, a brief flash of purple swirling in their depths before they went back to their normal, spiraling, hue.

  “I can hear her.” He told me simply. His arm tightened around me. “I can feel her.” Sam smiled, a little sadly, before asking. “Can we keep her?”

  Her.

  We were having a daughter.

  I buried my face against his neck, body shaking as tears took over.

  “I hope so.” I whispered. The worst part was that while I meant it more than anything, I couldn’t be sure if that was enough to make it so.

  Chapter Three

  Since I’d gone to the doctor as ordered, I went to my mother’s the next day to catch up on some much needed practice. I figured that if the baby was responsible for whatever darkness I’d seen in my magic, then I needed to learn everything I could about it. Not only about what pregnancy meant to a Black Widow, but the mortality rate for children of mixed species. Last night Sam had spent a good hour explaining all the ends and out to me of dragon offspring. The information was about as bad as I’d assumed it would be.

  “When our females give birth, there is usually more than one baby.”

  “Are we talking Olsen Twins or John and Kate plus Eight?”

  He lifted his hand, palm up, in an indication that I should aim higher and I’d felt my face pale. “For the most part, when our women are pregnant, they have to stay in dragon form.”

  “Why?”

  “Our kind don’t develop our scales until we’re out of the womb. So until then, it’s the mother’s job to protect their flames and their hearts until they can do it for themselves.”

  “So I’m going to have a little fireball bouncing off the walls of my uterus?”

  “Basically.”

  That had been alarming enough. Now it was time to talk to Danielle and see what she could add to my knowledge of the paranormal birds and the bees. Since I’d been gone for a while, Danielle had me start off slow instead of diving right back in where we’d left off. Which had consisted of making a flower grow. The rose in question sat dead and lifeless within a glass dome. In fact, it was so lifeless, it effectively ruined my mood whenever I happened to glance in its direction. When I’d first seen the flower, I thought the task Danielle had set for me was a relatively simple one.

  Turns out, that wasn’t the case at all. I’d been her pupil for a year now and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get the rose to return to its former vibrant glory. I could summon a storm, I could catch a star, I could even transform a human into a frog (I had mixed feelings about that one), but I couldn’t make the flower bloom. Danielle on the other hand went through life with her living vines doing all the grunt work normally reserved for servants. What made it worse was that she did so with such calm and grace that it was almost as if she’d forgotten that she was using magic at all.

  Meanwhile, turning a leaf green for less than a minute made my nose bleed and knocked me unconscious for almost an hour.

  The obvious difference in our skill set drove me crazy.

  I knew that we weren’t in competition or anything, but I still felt as if I should be doing better by now. More. It was frustrating. I’d never wanted to excel at anything before. I was so used to keeping my head down because of what I’d perceived to be a curse that I had never really let myself strive for excellence. But it was about more than just proving something to myself.

  That rose represented my graduation.

  If I could just bring the damn thing to life I wouldn’t have to deal with these lessons anymore and I could go back to building a life for myself. A normal, married, childbearing, life. At the thought of children my concentration broke and the spell I’d been steadily weaving for the past five minutes shattered like so much glass. I had been in the process of manipulating air. It was a challenge, but not so much so that I would be putting a strain on myself. The bubble of concentrated air beneath my feet dissolved and gravity took over, sending me crashing to the carpet with a squeal of dismay. Before I’d taken a sick leave I’d been able to lift myself nearly five feet in the air, and hold it for half an hour. I could probably still pull it off, but I didn’t want to admit that my premature meeting with the floor was the result of a wandering mind.

  Danielle sighed and shook her head, worry lines apparent around her eyes and mouth. I could tell that she thought I wasn’t well enough to come back yet, and as I got to my feet I didn’t bother to dissuade her of the notion. Everyone was always telling me how my mother couldn’t be trusted, but I knew she followed a very strict collection of rules. I also knew that there was no way in hell I was telling her about my baby. She may have a certain code that she lived by, but looking out for herself was pretty high up on her list of essentials. She used human blood to keep her skin clean and clear and under control. There was no telling what uses she could find for a mixed breed baby. I needed to keep the news a secret from my mother for as long as possible. After all, I was only just learning to like her. I didn’t want her to ruin it by reminding me of what a conniving bitch monster she was.

  Speaking of bitch monsters…

  For the first time that I could remember my mother’s outer looks were beginning to match her inner ones. She looked…old. Or ‘ratchet’ as the kids were saying these days. Her hair was brittle and there was more blond than gray in it these days. There were wrinkles in her face, age spots, her body creaked as her bones moved, and she walked with a visible stiffness that left me concerned.

  It was like she aged a hundred years in the space of only a few months.

  I knew that she had stopped feeding ever since she’d lost Rachel, but I’d had no clue just how bad things could get. Now, instead of looming over me exuding attitude and confidence, she lurched to the nearest chair and sat down with a sigh.

  “Are you all right?’ She asked with a frown.

  I nodded as I got to my feet. My left ass cheek ached, but that was about it.

  “Good.” She continued. “That’s enough for today. We’ll pick this up again at your next lesson.”

  “But I just got here.” I protested. I’d never complained about being let out early before and her eyes narrowed in thought. “I mean.” I said, trying to curb my enthusiasm. “I thought we could try the flower thing again before I left. The sooner that’s out of the way, the happier I’ll be.”

  Usually when I spoke of hurrying our training along she just looked irritated
with me. Today there was a flash of sadness, maybe even regret, in her eyes before she cleared her throat and glanced away.

  “Ma?” I asked, uncertain and after a moment of silence she nodded and got to her feet.

  “All right dear.” She said calmly, once more exuding her usual cool confidence. “We’ll work on the rose for a bit, but afterwards I want you to head straight home and get some rest.” She shook her head. “I don’t care what Leon says. You’re far too pale for this to be a stomach virus. I thought Jews were better doctors than that. Maybe she gets confused if you ask her to do anything other than fill in a cavity.” She whipped her skirts around her legs angrily, righteous in her southern, bigoted fury.

  “Ma.” I said, her strange behavior forgotten under this recent reminder of what a horrible person she was. “Doctor Leon isn’t Jewish. In fact, her name doesn’t even sound Jewish so I’m not sure where you got that from you psychotic anti-Semitic bitch.” This last was muttered beneath my breath so she couldn’t hear.

  It wouldn’t have mattered if I’d had the gumption to insult her with my inside voice, because she had perfected the art of tuning me out. I followed her from the music room and down the hallway. Her grumbling familiar and somehow comforting despite the vitriol she was spewing. Sometimes I wondered if Danielle Greyson had been a Nazi in her former life. But I couldn’t figure out how she would have had the time considering her other roles as a KKK member, Russian communist, and South Korean dictator. She could only have one of course, there was no way in hell God would have reincarnated this woman more than once or twice before understanding that she was as good as she was going to get.

  Danielle led me to her charm room. Apparently most magic users had one. It’s where they stored spells and curses that they’d created over the years. Sort of like a book of shadows only with instantaneous results. Danielle’s charm room was relatively small, her charms few thanks to the years she’d spent without any magic at all. The number of bottled spells that she could lay claim to only covered one wall while she kept the majority of her magical artifacts packed away in cardboard boxes that had long since been shoved out of the way.

  The dead rose inside of its glass prison sat in the center of the room on a high top table. We never lay hands on the flower or the glass, but no dust marred the surface. I’d noted on several occasions how the rose seemed to be unaffected by the world around it. As if it weren’t fully present in this one. It was eerie, really. I’d tried throwing a gust of wind at it one day when Danielle wasn’t looking and I could have sworn that something had simply sucked the magical gale away.

  Now, I moved to the same position that I did every time I came to work with the rose. Sitting cross legged on the floor before it I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It was a lot like doing my centering ritual, but instead of sinking into my own mind, I focused instead upon the flower. Under Danielle’s tutelage I’d come to appreciate the fact that almost all things had their own energy, or aura. It was just a matter of tuning into it. Tuning in to its vibration. It was sort of like music. You had to do little mini adjustments until the vibrations matched up and synchronized into a lovely, perfect, harmony.

  I knew the song by heart now so it didn’t take long to fall into the rhythm.

  As usual the world went dark once my consciousness merged with that of the rose. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t bring a spark of life to the barren landscape and soon I was scowling.

  “Don’t try so hard.” Danielle snapped. “What have I told you?”

  I sighed.

  “Life is held within the earth.” I intoned. “It is mother. It is father. It is the cradle and the grave. If I can conquer the green and growing things then I can hold life in the palm of my hand, blah, blah, blah.”

  She slapped me across the back of the head and I winced, ducking under the assault before straightening back into position. I held a certain amount of respect for this mother earth nonsense…just not much. It was a shock to find that Black Widows had the mindset of modern day wiccans. They skipped the morally upstanding aspects of the religion of course, but they were diehards when it came to respecting Mother Nature, and paying tribute to the creatures that lived and governed the five elements. Danielle may catch a rabbit and boil it alive to steal its agility and grace, but damn if she wouldn’t give thanks after the fact.

  For whatever reason I simply couldn’t wrap my mind around the idea of some Grand Mother living at the heart of the world, and my lack of imagination was proving to be my downfall. Magic was fun and all but sometimes I wish I could go back to believing that I was nothing more than human. At least then I could cheat or give up when something wasn’t having the desired results. Magic was something I had to actually work at. I loved succeeding but it turned out that failures, especially ones that seemed so simple, were turning out to be a real drag on my self-esteem.

  “You can’t just know the basics, Alexandria. You must feel the truth. You must believe it.”

  I ground my teeth, my face scrunching up in faux concentration. I already knew I was going to fail, but I had to make a show of it before changing the subject. My mother was a wily one and if she sensed something was up, she’d start investigating. Eventually I groaned aloud and let my upper body collapse onto the ground in a show of dramatic defeat.

  “Alexandria.” My mother said stiffly. Any show of flair and overacting was forbidden unless she was the one in the spotlight. Greyson family rule number five. “Get. Up.” She sounded peeved and I hid a smile by throwing my hands in the air and groaning again.

  “This is so stupid.” I lamented.

  “You’re acting like a child dear.” She said archly. “Get up and try again.”

  “No.” I grumbled back. “Why didn’t you start shoving this crap down my throat when I was still young and impressionable? You know? Like a normal bible thumping parent with an imagination and a dream.”

  She drew a sharp, offended breath, and I grinned beneath the fall of my hair. Anyone living on this side of the Bible belt knew better than to insult, or question, the Christian faith and the method in which it was taught. Though my mother had grown up, literally, in another world, she’d taken to every southern stereotype like a hog to mud. Implying that she should have been teaching me anything other than traditional Christian values and beliefs was anathema to her.

  “Alexandria Marie Greyson.”

  Shit. Full name.

  Code Red.

  I straightened and looked up at her in alarm.

  “Yes ma’am?” I responded, all sweetness and honey. Her eyes narrowed as she looked down at me but I simply blinked owlishly back until some of the threat had seeped from her body.

  “One does not simply ‘shove’ the idea of the Grand Mother down another’s throat.” She said distinctly, still angry but righteously so. “It is a realization that must come through months, even years, of practice and introspection.”

  Hold up.

  “Years?” I squeaked, and she grinned, satisfied by my obvious distress.

  “Of course. What you’ve learned so far is the equivalent of a few parlor tricks. This—” she waved a hand towards the flower. “—is going to take you to an entirely different level. One that requires discipline and understanding. Tapping into your full power before you’re mentally ready to accept it is like hooking up a vibrator to a Chevy. It’s fun for a minute or two, but eventually something going to blow a fuse. And it ain’t gonna be the vibrator.”

  I could tell she wanted to accompany the last with a cocky Z snap, but she refrained. Albeit barely. I rolled my eyes. She’d been watching way too much television lately. Rather than comment, I tried steering the conversation back to where I wanted it.

  “But you still could have introduced me to all of this earlier.” I told her. “Why didn’t you? Wouldn’t it have made things easier now?”

  There it was again.

  Sadness, regret, grief.

  For a moment the emotions engulfed her entire
being.

  Then, just as quickly, she was back to normal and shaking her head in thought. I blinked, nearly convinced that I was starting to see things.

  “It’s important to keep Black Widows from maturing early. If a girl starts using her magic too young she’d have to be put down. Which means that if given the choice, any mention of her nature or magic is kept from a young woman until she begins showing signs of the gift.”

  “What about boys?”

  “Excuse me?”

  I strived to play it cool. All I needed was to get the ball rolling and Danielle Greyson could spend an entire afternoon going on about babies and measuring my love for her by her lack of tangible grandchildren.

  “I was just wondering what would happen if a Black Widow gave birth to a boy? Do only women have the power?”

  To my surprise she came to her knees beside me and gripped my hands. Looking into my eyes she spoke very slowly, very carefully.

  “We don’t speak of the boys.” She said, and there was a horror hidden within her that I had never seen before. “You’d be smart, to never think of them again. Our males are not like you and I. They are…” her lips tightened and she jerked her hands away. “Monstrous.” She finished finally. Getting to her feet she swiped the palms of her hands down her hips as if to erase the feel of something dirty.

  “That’s enough for today Alexandria.” She said softly, eyes landing on everything but me. “Go home for a few days. A week should do it. Eat. Rest.” Her lip curled. “Play house and live in sin with your little lizard.” She seemed to gain a bit more of her pep after insulting Sam and our lives together and my jaw got tight as I gained my feet.

  I’d never thought I’d have to work this hard to get my mother to share information about babies and birth. Maybe my questions weren’t leading enough? I sighed, as if exasperated with her. Surprisingly, it wasn’t hard to do.

  “Why do you hate him so much?” I began, as we left her charm room behind. “When I was dating James you started planning our wedding before I even brought the man over for dinner.”