I pull my hand out, nab a few paper towels, and wrap them around the finger. The wound only mildly throbs, but I’m distracted by the patter of little feet.
Naomi runs into the kitchen, making a beeline for her father. Carrick bends, scoops her up, and then tosses her into the air. She laughs gleefully, but I wince at how high he threw her.
Her gaze meets mine.
Blue-green-gold eyes identical to mine. Hair a mass of springy red coils.
My mini-me.
“What happened to Mommy?” she asks Carrick.
“She cut herself with a knife while chopping cucumbers,” he replies.
Her little nose wrinkling, Naomi proclaims her disgust of all vegetables. “Ewwww.”
Most mommies would be offended at their kid’s total lack of sympathy over their injury, but not me.
When I pull the paper towel off, the cut is already healed, nothing more than a tiny pink line that will fade in another minute or so.
That’s the benefit of having a sister who is the god of Life.
It’s also the benefit of being immortal.
Yes, when the aneurysm in my brain ruptured, causing near-instantaneous death, Zora moved quickly. She snatched up my departing soul, used her newly infinite magic, and, with the encouragement of her new brother and sisters—the gods—she formed me anew.
Created me as an exact replica of who I was in all my past lives, complete with all my memories—good and bad—and every physical detail down to the scar I had on my left knee due to an unfortunate bicycle accident when I was just about Naomi’s age.
Thanks to the gods’ generosity, they granted me immortality to show their gratitude at my sacrifice to stop the prophecy. Carrick and I would be together forever, and Rune would be locked away in a prison where he’d age like a human and die lonely. Carrick felt that was far more fitting a punishment than a quick death, which would have been too easy.
“All good?” Carrick asks, his expression just a bit concerned as he nods at my finger. I’ve been immortal for seven years now, yet it still feels like a dream to us both at times.
“All good,” I reply. I hold my finger up, giving it a wiggle. When Naomi grins, I move around the counter in a stalking sort of motion. I wiggle my finger again. As I get closer to her, I reach out and tickle her with it. She screams with laughter and squirms, trying to get away.
When I chuckle, she reaches her arms out to me. It feels so good to hold her, and I whisper a prayer up to Zora for not only giving me immortality but fertility as well. Naomi is our first and only for right now, but she won’t be our last. The gods were kind when they granted our entire family an eternity to be together, so while Naomi would age up naturally in her formative years, she’d slowly stop the process in her mid-thirties.
We had an exceedingly long life ahead of us.
I give her a smacking kiss on her cheek before handing her back to Carrick so I can finish the salad. He places her on the floor and gives her a pat on the butt, instructing her to wash her hands.
After she’s gone, Carrick comes up behind me as I’m cutting the last cucumber. He steps in close, pressing his hard and deliciously beautiful body against mine. The feel of him almost makes the knife slip out of my hand again.
I wouldn’t mind, though.
Another cut would well be worth the feeling of security and desire he provokes within me every time we touch.
“I heard from Zaid today,” he remarks, setting his chin on my shoulder.
“Is he still coming next week?”
“Yup. And he’s bringing his mother as well.”
“Awesome,” I reply with a tiny thrill of excitement. I’ve become remarkably close to Mala since Zaid made amends with her a few years ago. They come to our California home regularly to vacation, and they are always welcome. Carrick bought us an almost-eleven-thousand-square-foot house, so guests are never a nuisance.
I finish slicing the cucumber, then reluctantly pull away from Carrick to toss the pieces in the salad bowl. “And the week after, Rainey and Myles are coming with the kids.”
Carrick makes a long-suffering groan of displeasure. “You mean the hellions?”
I have to bite back my snicker as I manage to level him with a chastising glare. “They’re not that bad.”
“Oh…but yes, they are,” he mutters, leaning his hip against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. “Remember last time? They set fire to your herb garden.”
This time, I do snicker. Rainey and Myles had twin boys three months before we had Naomi, and they are a handful. But I love the two rambunctious, loud, and wily little kids as only a godmother could.
“Maybe I’ll schedule a fishing trip,” Carrick muses out loud, his gaze moving past me to the wall of glass overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The house is mostly glass, and it sits on a jutting piece of cliff so the ocean is visible from practically everywhere.