Anne Bishop - Twilight's Dawn

“What’s wrong?” Daemon’s gold eyes were cold and glazed as he raised his head and looked at her.

The temper wasn’t aimed at her, she realized. If he couldn’t deduce what was wrong with his child quickly enough, he expected her to point out the problem so that he could take care of it—permanently.

That was the moment she understood that her part of the job wasn’t so much to protect the child as to push Sadi back the necessary half step that would give his girl some breathing room from the instincts that would be honed to a lethal edge from now on.

Uncle Saetan hadn’t had the leash of a partner when he’d raised Jaenelle and stood as the coven’s protector. Looking at Daemon now, she began to appreciate just how formidable the old man’s self-control had been.

“I think she’s hungry,” Surreal said.

A heartbeat. Two. Then Daemon blinked and looked around as if expecting to find a table of food that would appeal to his girl.

Surreal touched his sleeve. When he focused on her, she tapped her chest. “For the next few months, her kitchen is right here.”

He looked at her chest and blinked again. “Oh.”

She held out her arms and waited.

Hesitation. Reluctance. But he finally settled the baby in her arms.

When he sat there, waiting, she turned shy. “I know you’ve seen my breasts before, but this is different.”

Another heartbeat. Two. “You want me to leave?”

She nodded. “Could you ask Marian to come in?”

That request melted whatever resistance he had for leaving her alone with the child. He brushed a finger over the baby’s hand, then leaned over and kissed Surreal with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

“Thank you,” he said.

She grinned. “She is pretty wonderful, isn’t she?”

“She’s her mother’s daughter. How could she be anything else?”

She sat there, stunned by the words, as Daemon slipped out of the room and Marian slipped in.

The moment Daemon stepped into the adjoining room, Lucivar caught him in a hard hug and held on while his brother shook with the effort to control his emotions—and probably control the pain he’d been hiding.

“Is Surreal all right now?” Lucivar asked.

“Yes,” Daemon replied. He eased back enough to rest his forehead against Lucivar’s. “What in the name of Hell happened?”

“Damned if I know. Marian got bitchy during labor, but she settled down once the baby was born. Surreal acted like a wild she-cat, and we were the bad humans trying to take her kitten.” He paused. “How’s the arm?”

“Not bad. The bleeding stopped.” Daemon looked down at his right jacket sleeve. The illusion spell hid the tears and the blood.

“Liar. Come over here and strip down. I’ll wash the arm, and then we’ll have the Healer take care of it.”

“I don’t need—”

“Bastard, what part of that sounded like a choice?”

Daemon stared at him. Lucivar matched the look.

“I’m fine.”

“She ripped your arm open and scared the shit out of you and everyone else in the room. Everyone was focused on taking care of her and keeping the baby safe, and no one’s had a look at how badly you’re hurt. So you’re not fine. Not yet.”

“She won’t hurt the baby,” Daemon said as he followed Lucivar to the table where a basin of steaming water sat beside basic healing supplies.

“She was never going for the baby, old son. She was going for your throat.”

Daemon stripped off his jacket and swore vigorously as Lucivar helped him remove the shirt where it had stuck to the wounds in his upper right arm.

“What did she rip me with?” he asked as he sank into a chair next to the table.

Lucivar looked at the slices in Daemon’s arm. They were deep enough that he wanted the Healer to take care of them and make sure the arm healed properly, but he could clean the wounds to give Daemon time to settle. “An open metalwork glove that had talons honed almost as sharp as my war blade. That must have been something she always kept with her, stored by Craft. I made sure she hadn’t hidden any weapons in the room, but I hadn’t expected her to use Craft so soon after birthing or have something that lethal that she could call in. And I didn’t expect her to attack you.”

“Why did she do that? I haven’t given her a reason to feel hostile toward me. Have I?”

“Surreal didn’t have an easy childhood or a soft life afterward. She saw as much blood, pain, and cruelty as we did in Terreille. Everything has a price, and the price strong witches pay for wearing dark Jewels is more painful moontimes and harder births. I’m guessing the pain and the smell of blood pushed her to someplace in her memories, mixing things up in the end. I don’t think she knew who was with her; you were just a male reaching for her baby. As sure as the sun doesn’t shine in Hell, she didn’t know who I was when I was holding her down to give you and the Healer time to get the baby away from the bed so it wouldn’t get hurt.”

“You don’t think it was just me she wanted to keep away?”

Since they were going to talk, Lucivar smeared a cleansing ointment over Daemon’s wounds. “Nah. I told you. A witch who wears Gray Jewels has to be more careful and work a lot harder to keep a baby in the womb. Surreal has been feeling shaky and protective since the first morning she threw up. During the past few hours, she gave up everything civilized in order to birth this child.”

“Her name is Jaenelle Saetien,” Daemon said.

Lucivar froze for a moment. “Good name. What does Surreal think of it?”

“It was her choice.”

Daemon was starting to sound drunk stupid. Lucivar thought it was a good sign that he was finally, and fully, relaxing. Of course, sounding drunk stupid could indicate that he’d lost more blood than was obvious, and that wouldn’t be good.

Stepping into the corridor, Lucivar summoned the Healer to deal with Daemon’s arm while he checked in with Beale, Jazen, and Holt to confirm that nothing needed Daemon’s immediate attention—or his attention, since he figured he’d be handling any problems for the next day or so. They had nothing to tell him except that Tersa, Manny, Mikal, and Beron were now in the family sitting room with Daemonar and Titian. Once everyone had a little time to settle and he was sure Surreal was steady enough to tolerate the rest of the family meeting its newest member, they would all have a chance to coo before he nudged them out to enjoy the celebration dinner.

Surreal didn’t ask the question until Jaenelle finished nursing. Cradling her baby girl, she looked at Marian. “Who did I hurt, and how bad is it?”

Marian turned her head toward the adjoining room’s door. Surreal’s stomach flipped.

“Lucivar?” she asked. “Did I hurt Lucivar?”

“No.” Marian laid a hand on her arm, just above where the baby’s head rested. “Lucivar is fine.”

Surreal stared at the woman who was a sister through marriage. “Daemon.”

Marian hesitated, then nodded. “But he’ll be fine. The Healer’s taking care of him.”

“What did I do? Marian, tell me. ”

“Hush, now. Don’t upset the baby.”

They waited until the baby stopped fussing. Then Marian said, “I’ve been here with you since Daemon left, so I haven’t talked to Lucivar to get all the details. What I do know is you called in some kind of metal glove and ripped up Daemon’s arm when the Healer picked up the baby. You attacked without warning. Daemon got between you and the Healer to protect her and the baby. Then Lucivar rushed in to restrain you until you were thinking clearly enough again to allow the women to take care of you.”

“Where is it now, the metal glove?”