Our Fatal Failings (Twisted book two)

Chapter Twenty Two

My tongue is dry and heavy as I nod. “He was my first and only.” 

“Okay,” Nia says, “what do you want to do?”

I put my hand on my stomach. Inside, beyond my organs, is another life growing. Half of me and half of him. A werewolf no doubt. Could I love a werewolf child? A child of his. No, this child is mine too. “Is it a girl?”

Nia shakes her head. She can tell. She narrows her eyes. “I’m not healer, but I can….it’s faint, but I sense it. A boy.” I almost gasp. A boy. Boys take after their fathers don’t they? No matter what I do, will I be staring Jonah in the face when he grows? Hearing him speak? My hands linger on my stomach. “What am I going to do?” 

“Whatever you want. No one is forcing you to keep it.”

Perhaps a potion would rid the child from my womb. I would be just as I was. No trace of my mate on my body, or in either.

I furrow my brow. I could do it. Easily. 

My hands still remain on my stomach. 

“This child will be Crown Prince right? He’ll inherit the throne?”  That could make him a weapon for our cause. But I don’t want him to be a weapon. Better unborn that a weapon, a child used for the benefit of others.

Oh god, do I know what that feels like. 

“He’ll be the King’s heir.” Iris says, softly. “And soon, someone will discover you’re pregnant. It’ll make the war harder because The King will have two people to fight to retrieve.” 

I bite my thumb nail. “You’re right.” My hands fly back to my stomach. The feeling of them there warms me. In my womb there’s a child. One that belongs to Jonah. But also to me. He might have my father’s eyes and my mother’s smile. Or he might look like Jonah with curly brown hair and mocha skin. An exact copy with a drip of my features added. But he is not Jonah’s alone. He won’t be Jonah’s at all. He’s mine.

I am his mother.

I’m going to be the one to bring him into the world.

He is my child.

Mine.

My heart swells. I close my eyes.

Love? 

I’ve never felt this feeling. Not for Jonah, that...that is a different kind of love. Want, desire, lust, companionship. 

This is something else entirely. 

My fingers splay out on my belly. A fierce pride grows in me. “I’m keeping this child.”

Iris nods solemnly. “And you know the risks?”

“Yes. But this child is as much mine as it is Jonah’s. More mine than it is Jonah’s. Flesh from my flesh, blood from my blood, this child is mine. Even if I have to go it alone.” 

“You’re not alone you idiot,” Iris says. She rolls her eyes. “You’re so dramatic. We’re not going to kick you out onto the street because it’s his baby. A heat is a heat, you couldn’t help it.”

Nia puts a hand on her twin sister’s forearm. Her eyes are soft and mothering. They’re truly night and day--compliments to each other. Whereas Iris is rough and tough, her love hidden, Nia wears her heart on her shoulder and doesn’t hide her wish to protect everyone. “What my sister means is that you, Imani, are one of our truest friends. We would be glad to help you raise your child.”

Tears prick at my eyes. I’ve thought this so many times but every time I’m given another reason to think it again. What have I ever done to deserve people like this in my life?  My voice wobbles. “Thank you.”