Dead Man Walking (The Fallen Men 6)

I only pulled back when she was pliant as warm clay, and then I pressed my forehead to hers, tipping my gaze down to watch my hand slide over the flat expanse of her belly.

“I don’t feel anythin’ at all unless it revolves around you,” I said fiercely, hoping to brand the words on her soul. “And now, this baby. I might be a shit fuckin’ dad, but you gotta know I’ll try my best as long as you don’t mind havin’ a killer as your baby daddy.”

Then Bea did what she’d been doing since she was seventeen, and I noticed her eatin’ that peach. She surprised me.

Her laughter rang out like church bells, pure and chiming as she raised her hands to frame my bearded face, bringing me close so I could feel that humour against my skin. “I never knew the words ‘baby daddy’ could bring me so much joy. I don’t need marriage or anything. I know you would,” she allowed before I could interrupt. “But I don’t need it. I just want to be sure you’re okay with this? I’m only nineteen, twenty in five days, but I want this so much more than I ever could have known.”

“Then I want it too,” I said simply because that was the truth.

I lived and died by this girl with the haloed hair and angel eyes. I’d give her the fucking world if she wanted it, but somehow, she only wanted me. Moving over to collect her gently in my arms knowing her damaged back was dressed but sore, I swung my booted feet onto the clean bed and held my sweet girl in my arms against my bloodstained cut, thinking this was it.

This was us.

This was my life now, my heart alive and beating against my chest instead of inside it.

I collected her little, pale hand, the fingers red and scratched from clawing at the snow as she fought off Seth. I kissed the ends of those fingers, then sucked each pad lightly into my mouth, watching as her blue eyes went black, loving how such an innocent act could affect my innocent Bea.

“I am obsessed with every inch of you. The fragile bones beneath your lean muscles, the entire expanse of your cream suede skin, and the way it bruises so pretty for me. I’m obsessed with the knuckles in these small hands,” I said, pausing to gently bite each hook of bone at the base of her fingers. “And every strand of this haloed hair.”

“That sounds an awful lot like love, Priest,” she murmured, almost dazed.

I cocked my head, considering it, the definition of love as I’d read it and how such a little word could possibly define the only emotion to ever take hold of my body and fucking soul. Finally, I shrugged one shoulder and dipped down to tongue at the pulse in her throat. “You can call it whatever you want, mo cuishle. That’s how I feel ’bout you. That’s how I’ll feel about this baby just knowing he or she’s a part of my Little Shadow, my fucking brave-hearted girl.”

“The Walshes are still out there. I know Seth orchestrated a lot of his atrocities under the guise of their name, but they still might come for us all the way from Saskatoon,” she interjected, biting worriedly at her lower lip. “And Javier Ventura. There will be more too, I’m sure, enemies of the club who show up to drive us down or kill us outright. We won’t ever be truly safe in this life. I’m choosing it, choosing you. For me, there is no other option. I just wanted you to know I’m going into this eyes-wide-open. I know the risks, and I know as long as you’re breathing, you won’t let anything take us from you.”

“I’d die for you,” I agreed easily as she trailed her fingers through my beard. “And I’ll live for you until that day. You don’t worry about anythin’, Bea. I’ll take care of anythin’ that comes.”

“I know,” she said, nuzzling into me, eyes heavy with the need to sleep. “I don’t have to be afraid of anything when I have my very own psycho.”

I chuckled into her hair, but safe in my arms, secured against my chest, my girl was already out like a light.

Bea

Seven months later

The summer air was thick and sweet, syrupy with the scent of honeysuckle and lilac. I lay in the long, dried grass on a checkered pink blanket with my eyes closed to savour the feel of the sun on my skin and that rich aroma of summertime. There was an ache in my back, a tight knot that seemed to clench tighter with each beat of my heart, but the soft ground beneath me and the soothing sounds of the buzzing bees lulled me into a kind of half-slumber. My hands smoothed lazily over my big belly, swelling almost comically from my slight frame beneath a white gingham dress.