Damien, Damien!”
“Ah yes, Willow. My Willow.”
He reared back, looked her in the eye. A message, unspoken except in their hearts, passed between them. And they knew.
They both just knew .
Chapter Nine
Azreal glanced at Midea. “Well. We did it.”
She grunted in response.
“Who would’ve believed it? A week ago we were all despairing we would ever get these two together. Hell, a week ago it seemed utterly impossible to get my son to commit to any woman, much less one selected for him by Destiny.”
Midea nodded. “A week ago we were convinced Willow would never agree to the mating ceremony.” They shared a glance. Both, perhaps, a little full of themselves. “I must say, it was a stroke of genius to forbid him from seducing her.”
Azreal shrugged. “What can I say? I know my son. But you were also quite brilliant. Giving her just enough rope…as it were.”
“And now look at them.” They both turned to the altar, to the couple writhing and gasping upon it. The magic around them swirled in counterpoint, two beautiful twining colors, a perfect complement.
“They’ll make a lovely baby.”
Midea made a funny little noise, something between a snort and a laugh. “Babies.”
Azreal tipped his head to the side. “Babies?”
She nodded, biting back a toothless grin.
“You never mentioned there would be more than one.”
“I didn’t want you to get cocky.”
Azreal’s mouth fell open. “They’re having a boy?”
Midea leveled him with a sharp glare. “ She is having a girl. The next Great Mother Witch. That’s what all this has been about, you know.”
“I know. I know. But…” His eyes shone.
“All right. There may be a boy in there as well.”
The Great Warlock brought his hands together in an attempt to contain his joy. “A boy!” He shot a glance at the altar, even as the two bodies writhing there stiffened, cried out. He imagined he saw it then, the twining of two new tiny energies, there in the mists of passion. “We did it. It’s done. Conception. On the Great Altar. Just as the Auspices predicted.”
Midea shuffled her feet and glanced away.
“What?”
An old, gnarled shoulder shrugged. “Not…precisely.”
“What?”
“Technically, the Auspices didn’t see the twins conceived on the altar .”
“What?” Well, hell. “Then where?”
Midea’s eyes twinkled. It was an unusual moment of levity for a dour witch wreathed with the burden of protecting and propagating her clan. “They were conceived in a ratty little brownstone in Brooklyn.”
Azreal sucked in a breath. It exploded into a loud guffaw. “So you knew. You knew the whole time…”
“As usual.” Her expression wasn’t one of conceit as much as simple acceptance of her infallible gift.
He shook his head and chuckled, wondering for a moment how a warlock could ever prevail in this eternal skirmish between male and female energy. And then his gaze fell on Skylar and his humor trailed away.
Another, more potent, emotion rose. He wafted it toward her on the breeze.
She sensed it and turned, stilling when she realized his attention was fixed on her. She sniffed, and looked away.
“Oh go to her,” Midea muttered. “It’s a magical night. You might actually get some.”
A heat rose in Azreal’s cheeks at the thought. Hell, heat rose everywhere. He made his way over the uneven ground to her side. “Sky.”
Her eyes flicked to his. Flicked away. “ Your Lordship .”
It didn’t take any kind of magic to read the sarcasm in her tone.
He sucked on his teeth. Cast about for a topic of some sort. Any sort. Finally he nodded at the altar. “Are you not…pleased? Tonight we accomplished the impossible.”
She glared at him but he sensed a softening in her ire. “Of course I’m pleased. How could I not be?” She looked away. “But that doesn’t mean I forgive you.”
A familiar pain, an irritation, sliced through him. He nodded and turned back to stare, unseeingly, at the altar.
“Ah yes, Willow. My Willow.”
He reared back, looked her in the eye. A message, unspoken except in their hearts, passed between them. And they knew.
They both just knew .
Chapter Nine
Azreal glanced at Midea. “Well. We did it.”
She grunted in response.
“Who would’ve believed it? A week ago we were all despairing we would ever get these two together. Hell, a week ago it seemed utterly impossible to get my son to commit to any woman, much less one selected for him by Destiny.”
Midea nodded. “A week ago we were convinced Willow would never agree to the mating ceremony.” They shared a glance. Both, perhaps, a little full of themselves. “I must say, it was a stroke of genius to forbid him from seducing her.”
Azreal shrugged. “What can I say? I know my son. But you were also quite brilliant. Giving her just enough rope…as it were.”
“And now look at them.” They both turned to the altar, to the couple writhing and gasping upon it. The magic around them swirled in counterpoint, two beautiful twining colors, a perfect complement.
“They’ll make a lovely baby.”
Midea made a funny little noise, something between a snort and a laugh. “Babies.”
Azreal tipped his head to the side. “Babies?”
She nodded, biting back a toothless grin.
“You never mentioned there would be more than one.”
“I didn’t want you to get cocky.”
Azreal’s mouth fell open. “They’re having a boy?”
Midea leveled him with a sharp glare. “ She is having a girl. The next Great Mother Witch. That’s what all this has been about, you know.”
“I know. I know. But…” His eyes shone.
“All right. There may be a boy in there as well.”
The Great Warlock brought his hands together in an attempt to contain his joy. “A boy!” He shot a glance at the altar, even as the two bodies writhing there stiffened, cried out. He imagined he saw it then, the twining of two new tiny energies, there in the mists of passion. “We did it. It’s done. Conception. On the Great Altar. Just as the Auspices predicted.”
Midea shuffled her feet and glanced away.
“What?”
An old, gnarled shoulder shrugged. “Not…precisely.”
“What?”
“Technically, the Auspices didn’t see the twins conceived on the altar .”
“What?” Well, hell. “Then where?”
Midea’s eyes twinkled. It was an unusual moment of levity for a dour witch wreathed with the burden of protecting and propagating her clan. “They were conceived in a ratty little brownstone in Brooklyn.”
Azreal sucked in a breath. It exploded into a loud guffaw. “So you knew. You knew the whole time…”
“As usual.” Her expression wasn’t one of conceit as much as simple acceptance of her infallible gift.
He shook his head and chuckled, wondering for a moment how a warlock could ever prevail in this eternal skirmish between male and female energy. And then his gaze fell on Skylar and his humor trailed away.
Another, more potent, emotion rose. He wafted it toward her on the breeze.
She sensed it and turned, stilling when she realized his attention was fixed on her. She sniffed, and looked away.
“Oh go to her,” Midea muttered. “It’s a magical night. You might actually get some.”
A heat rose in Azreal’s cheeks at the thought. Hell, heat rose everywhere. He made his way over the uneven ground to her side. “Sky.”
Her eyes flicked to his. Flicked away. “ Your Lordship .”
It didn’t take any kind of magic to read the sarcasm in her tone.
He sucked on his teeth. Cast about for a topic of some sort. Any sort. Finally he nodded at the altar. “Are you not…pleased? Tonight we accomplished the impossible.”
She glared at him but he sensed a softening in her ire. “Of course I’m pleased. How could I not be?” She looked away. “But that doesn’t mean I forgive you.”
A familiar pain, an irritation, sliced through him. He nodded and turned back to stare, unseeingly, at the altar.
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