Crimson Lace

(BONUS) Chapter 58

ELLE
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
(Bonus Chapter #1)

The rhythm is light like the patter of rain on a rooftop or the flap of a bird's wings. His hands grace over the warmth of my belly and the tiny human inside kicks once more.

Alec's eyes are shut as he lounges on our bed. A light hum escapes his throat. "What if he takes after his mother?"

I switch the position of my hands from where they hover above him, flowing in rhythm with the blood in his veins. The remaining Mute in his body is fewer now, but the war can never truly be over until my love has what is rightfully his, the lightning he was born to wield.

"Then you'll have to stock our kitchens with more olives." The response comes easily.

With most of my concentration on the fluid movement of my fingers in the air and the pressure that is the yellow liquid inside him, I almost miss the curl of his lips.

Alec smiles. That playful twist of charming teeth that was a rare sight during the war. "I suppose that will mean he will have your lovely eyes," there is a short pause, then Alec smirks, adding, "and your stubbornness."

I pretend to scowl. "And if he takes after his father?"

Alec's shoulders rise and fall with a deep inhale. "Then he'll be positively handsome, charming, and perfect—"

With a wave of my hand, I summon a pillow from across the mattress and fling it at his head.

He laughs when it smacks him in the face, taking the pillow and shoving it behind his head. His movement causes me to lose track of a trickle of liquid near his abdominal aorta and I have to retrace the fluid back up to his thoracic cavity, starting again.

"Try to hold still, Alec."

He sighs, reaching forward and placing his hands to my stomach again. From where I sit straddling his torso, I shift closer, allowing him to rest his palms on the small swell of my abdomen.

Alec releases a low hum from somewhere deep in his chest as I shift my hips. "I do hope you don't do this with all of your patients."

I can't help but toss my head back with a laugh. "No, baby, you're just special."

Alec keeps his eyes open this time, watching my hands bend and fingers contort above him. I siphon the Mute in his veins toward his head.

Before, during the battle, I'd been able to temporarily suppress the Mute, allowing him to access his lightning. Doing so for more than minutes at a time has proven to be far too draining for my power, but he hasn't been himself without the electricity thrumming through his nerves. His smiles are fewer when I'm not in the room, his panic attacks come more frequently, I often catch him staring off into space for minutes on end. I know he's struggling. After what we saw, the bodies, the blood, the pain . . . we are all still in shock. Alec has lost more in his life than anyone should ever have to endure. This . . . is the one thing I can give back.

"On the count of three," I say, my heart beginning to pound. Here comes the worst part.

Alec's abdominal muscles stiffen beneath my thighs. He's had one session per week for the last several months. Still, like the other Variants I've been treating, he hasn't become used to the pain.

"Don't count this time," he says, his breaths quickening. "It hurts more when I know what is coming."

I nod, biting my lip to keep the emotions buried. I can't lose focus. This needs to be quick and as pain free as possible. Pinching air between my index finger and thumb, I pull upward, like a needle guiding thread.