Aeromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 3)

Slowly, the tightening band gave way until it didn’t feel as if her abdomen was in a vise any longer.

The experience was draining. Two guards came running up to them. One of the guards took her other arm, but Adam’s cold command stopped him.

“Get your hands off her.”

Looking baffled, the guard let her go. Lann had said that to Richardson once, and the memory filled her with longing for her husband.

“Come on, angel,” Adam said, lifting her into his arms. “Let’s get you back inside.”

Inside, once they were out of the guards’ view, he acted aloof. He carried her to her bedroom, deposited her on the bed, and left without a word.

A short while later, Gerda and Nicolas appeared in her door. While Gerda did a quick check-up, Adam stood in the corner with a stoic face and his arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m fine,” Kat protested.

“Braxton Hicks,” Gerda said to Adam.

Nicolas was scanning the books on the table. Adam hadn’t asked her what she wanted to read. He’d brought all her favorite classics, as well as some of the daemon verses of which she was fond. They had to have studied her for a long time to know such intimate details as her reading preferences.

Adam straightened. “Go,” he said to Gerda. When she left with Nicolas, he approached Kat. “I’m proud of you. The footage will make a fine videoclip for your man.”

This time, Kat cried openly. She didn’t care anymore that Adam exploited her weakness and witnessed it. She wanted Lann. She was scared and she needed him.

Adam sat down next to her on the bed. He watched as she cried until she had no more tears left. When her eyes were dry, he got to his feet.

“That was a beautiful performance,” he said. “So much agony.” He wiped the wet streaks from her cheeks with his thumbs. “I can’t wait for the birth.”

From the almost breathless way he said it, she believed him. Jerking her face away, she escaped his touch. She held her breath, and only exhaled when he left the room.

“If you carry on breaking things, I’ll forbid you to watch those fucking feeds,” Joss said.

Lann’s commander assessed him with his silver gaze. He made an effort to calm himself, staring at the fireplace in which he’d broken another glass. The hearth was cold, empty of fire, since it was summer.

A season had passed.

A season without her.

He wiped his hands over his face. “How would you react, Joss, if you were in my shoes?”

Joss didn’t reply. Joss was a possessive bastard and they both knew it. He’d have felt the same if Clelia was in Katherine’s place. Katherine had been walking through the garden, her belly beautifully big now, when her first contraction had hit. It was that bastard who’d picked her up in his arms and carried her inside.

“Hold onto your reason,” Joss said. “It’s only a game. They want you to go after her to have reason to kill you. For all we know, they’re setting a trap.”

Lann lifted his face to the sky. “I can’t take it, Joss. I can’t do this.”

Joss’s voice was commanding. “Yes, you can, and you will. There are only three more months left.”

Kat woke with a start in the dark. There was someone in her room. She couldn’t see or hear him, but she could feel him. She shot upright in the bed, her heart thumping in her chest.

“Shh,” a voice said urgently, frightened, as if breaking on a cry.

A figure moved into the moonlight that spilled through the window. Nicolas. A mixture of fear and relief tightened her throat. What was he doing there? She clutched the sheet to her breasts, not taking her eyes off him as she tried to guess his motive for coming into her bedroom in the middle of the night.

Nicolas’s lips tilted in one corner. He lifted his hand in a reassuring gesture. “Nicolasjh not hurtjs. Nicolasjh lonelyjs.”

Her heart still beat in her throat, but she relaxed marginally. She regarded him quietly, waiting for his next move. She didn’t want to do something to frighten him or endanger herself. He moved to the table with the books. Reaching out, he touched a spine tentatively before quickly gazing back at her.

She understood. “It’s all right. You can touch them.”

He removed a classic edition of Frankenstein and traced the title on the spine. “Daddyjs not givjs booksch. No booksch. Nicolasjh worksj.”

She swung her legs off the bed. “Do you know that story?”

“Mommyjs. Mommyjs readsh to Nicolasjh.” His good eye watered up. “Mommyjs deadjs.”

Kat moved to his side, one small step at a time. “I’m so sorry. What was her name?”

“Elvirajs. Elvirajs.” Nicolas started rocking himself. “Elvirajs.”

Had she pushed him too far? She sat down in the chair and held her hand out for the book. “Would you like me to read to you?”