Home: Hidden Book Three Read online

  He looked away. The elevator stopped, and he pulled the gate open. Then he waved me toward the door.

  I opened it, and Ada and Stone were standing there. They'd been heading to the door. Levitt stood about ten feet behind them, a huge grin on his face.

  I barely registered them, happy as I was to see them.

  My attention was on the bundle in Ada's arms.

  The fourth presence I hadn't been able to identify. I could now.

  Shifter.

  Blond hair. Blue eyes. The same slate-blue as his father's eyes actually. I could feel my mate in him as clearly as I'd ever felt anything.

  Brennan's son.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I stared at the baby. Tiny. He was strong. I could feel that already.

  Of course he was. He was his father's son after all. Guess Artemis had her next-in-line.

  "Molly, baby girl!" Ada said, settling the baby into Brennan's arms. Then she folded me into a huge hug, and I hugged her back, numbly.

  Oh fuck. I could barely breathe.

  All of the guilt.

  The anxiety.

  "Be merciful," Dahael's voice came back to me.

  Stone crushed me in a big bear hug next, and I tried to focus on he and Ada, both of whom were crying and telling me how happy they were to see me, asking a million questions I couldn't answer, even if my heart hadn't just been ripped out of my body.

  I felt my power rising in response to my anger, my pain. And it hurt. The rise in power made me physically ill. It felt like knives stabbing every tender organ of my body. I took deep breaths, trying to maintain my composure, keep my face neutral.

  I couldn't do this.

  Levitt came to me then, bowed, then shook my hand, grinning. The imps were with us, and I could see Dahael watching me closely.

  They were all talking. I had no idea what they were saying. I couldn't take my eyes off of Brennan and his son.

  At some point, everyone else seemed to pick up on my silence. Ada and Stone excused themselves after another hug each, and Levitt left to hunt. Brennan and I stood in the dining room, about ten feet apart.

  "Well. At least you weren't lonely, huh?" I asked, barely trusting my voice.

  "Molly… I screwed up. Once. One time."

  "Who?"

  He met my eyes. "A witch I rescued one night."

  I felt a growl rising in my throat. To his credit, he didn't respond. He kept his eyes on me. "It was one time. One night stand. It happened when I was feeling low and sorry for myself. I was starting to believe I'd lost you for good and you weren't coming back. The second it was over, I wanted to die. I never, ever wanted to hurt you."

  "You were feeling low?" I asked him, and I knew there was a threat in my voice. Right then, I didn't care. "Was this before or after I started dying over and over again?"

  "Before. A few weeks before. And then you died that first time, and I thought the universe or whatever the hell it is was paying me back for being a fucking idiot. And then you kept dying," he shook his head.

  "So why is he here? Why isn't he with her?"

  "The idea of raising an 'animal' disgusted her. Screwing one was one thing, but raising one was something else. She never even held him after he was born. The midwife handed him to me, and that was it."

  I didn't respond.

  I looked at the baby. He was fussing in Brennan's arms, as he had been in Ada's arms when we'd walked in. Brennan caught me watching the baby. "He's kind of fussy. I think that's common with shifter kids. Nain said I was always hyper, too. Too much energy," he said.

  "What's his name?" I asked.

  "Sean. I named him after my dad."

  I stepped forward and held my arms out. I don't know why.

  Brennan watched me. Stayed still.

  "I'm not going to hurt him, Brennan," I said, meeting his eyes.

  "I know."

  I held my arms out again, and he settled the baby into them. I looked away from Brennan, then walked into the living room, carefully carrying the little bundle of pain.

  I settled onto the sofa, then I looked down at Brennan's son.

  I understood my stepmother better than I'd ever expected to in that moment. Part of me wanted him to disappear. This child was living, breathing evidence that Brennan had screwed around on me, that what we had maybe wasn't quite as perfect as I'd believed.

  And yet, he wasn't. He was a person. A powerful being who never asked to be born into the situation he'd been born into.

  I could relate.

  As I sat looking at him, Sean settled down, big blue eyes staring up at me.

  "It's the eyes. Freaky, huh?" I murmured to him. I leaned my head down closer to his face, then pulled back. His eyes widened, and I did it again. And then he smiled and he had his father's dimples.

  It was like a stab to the heart.

  Brennan settled onto the sofa next to me. Wisely, he did not touch me. I looked up at Dahael, who was watching me from across the coffee table.

  "Did you honestly think I was monster enough to hurt him?"

  "Been through things, Mistress," she said apologetically. "Not the same."

  I looked back down at the baby, who was still staring up at my glowing eyes. "No. I'm not the same. But I'll never be a monster, no matter how much it hurts."

  "Molly--" Brennan began.

  "Do not talk to me. Not right now," I said. "He's hungry, by the way," I told Brennan, and, after a moment, he got up and headed to the kitchen.

  "We'll be okay, kid. You and me. I'm not gonna go all evil stepmother on you. I promise."

  Sean gurgled, and smiled, and I shook my head.

  Brennan came back with a bottle, and Ada and Stone came back from downstairs. I handed the baby to Brennan.

  "Okay. I'll be right back," I said, standing up.

  Brennan reached out, still holding the baby in his other arm. He grabbed my wrist gently. "Where are you going?"

  "We have two team members being held captive. Time to get them out."

  "I'm going with you," he said.

  I shook my head. "I don't need you."

  I felt anger from him. At himself, more than me. And a little pain. Maybe I'd wanted that.

  Okay. There was no maybe about it. I wanted to hurt him. A lot.

  I think he saw it in my eyes. He still didn't let go of me. "How? You can't just march in there and bust them out."

  I pulled my wrist out of his grip. "Watch me."

  And then I focused on the Wayne County Jail. I'd been there once, mostly because I was curious about what it was like, early on in my crime fighting career. I'd had so many thugs thrown in there. I wanted to know where they were going.

  I closed my eyes, and the next thing I knew, I was standing in the ladies' room on the first floor of the prison. There was a reception area, and this restroom was in that.

  Shit, my head ached. The pain was back, tenfold. Okay. So using my powers was a whole different experience now that I was back.

  I did my best to ignore it. Nain, I thought as loud as I could.

  Molls. What the fuck are you doing here?

  I smiled to myself. Getting your ass out. What cell are you in? And where's Jones?

  I'm on 10. Last cell on the west block. He's in the cell to the right of mine.

  Right. I'm getting him out first, then you. Are you alone?

  Yeah.

  I left the bathroom. There was a guard not too far away, and I made my way into his mind, trying to get a picture of the tenth level. I'd never tried it this way, but it was the best I could do, and I just had to hope I didn't screw it up completely. I rifled through the guard's thoughts, and, there it was: he knew the tenth floor well. I used the memories in his head, visualized where I wanted to go. I closed my eyes and focused, felt myself pulled elsewhere. When I opened my eyes, I was in the corridor on the tenth level. I walked toward the end of the block, keeping an eye out for guards. One came around the corner, and I broke into his mind, made him walk the other way, f
orgetting all about me.

  Fuck, it hurt.

  I could see their cells, feel both men's power signatures clearly. I looked through the small window in the door of the first cell. Jones was sitting on the cot, and after I had an idea of the room, I rematerialized inside.

  Jones jumped up off the bed in surprise.

  "Hey chief. Ready to go?"

  "Hell yeah," he said, staring at me. "How?"

  "Take my hand. Don’t let go. This might be uncomfortable." And then I focused on the loft. When we appeared in the dining room, I heard Ada gasp. Stone cursed in surprise and the coffee cup he'd been holding crashed to the floor. Brennan was standing nearby in the kitchen. I met his eyes once, then winked out again, back to the prison. This time I was right outside of Nain's cell, then I focused again and rematerialized inside.

  My nose and ears were bleeding. I felt like my body was about to fall apart. My head pounded. I wanted to puke, and I felt like I was about to lose control of most of my bodily functions. I stumbled, and Nain leapt forward, caught me.

  "Hey, baby," he said in his deep voice, cool hands on my upper arms. I shook my head, swiped at my nose. "Molls," he said, looking me over.

  "I'm all right. One more time," I said. I put my hand in his and focused hard. I could hear chaos out in the corridors. They'd discovered that something was going on.

  "You got enough in you to scramble their brains?" he asked, and I shook my head.

  "Not if I want to get us out of here," I said. "Just a sec." I gritted my teeth. Someone shouted outside the door. I pictured the loft, held Nain's hand tighter. His ever-present rage was making itself useful again, feeding me. I focused harder, ignored the pain. And then I felt us fall apart just as the noise in the corridor started getting louder.

  When we ended up in the loft, shouts of joy, applause greeted us. I let go of Nain and barely made it into the little powder room on the first floor before I lost everything in my gut. I puked, and blood streamed from my nose, my ears. My fingernails bled. It was torture, and it didn't seem to be ending. I stayed hunched over the toilet, unable to stop retching.

  I felt a warm hand on my back, rubbing, soothing. Eventually, I stopped puking, and I started to stand. Brennan helped me, strong hands on my shoulders. I caught sight of myself in the bathroom mirror.

  Blood leaked from the corners of my eyes. I shook my head. I could barely even move well enough to turn on the water. Brennan knew. His hands shook as he moistened a wash cloth and brought it to my face, started wiping gently at the blood leaking from my nose and eyes.

  "Can you feel this?" I whispered. He gave a terse nod. His breathing was elevated. His body shook, the effects of my pain hitting him.

  He worked anyway, holding me up with one arm while he used the other hand to wipe the wash cloth across my eyes, my mouth, my nose. Then he stood me against the wall so I leaned against it for support, and he rinsed the washcloth, then wrapped it around my still-bleeding hands.

  I didn’t want to cry. Hated the weakness inside. I bit my lip against the pain, both the physical and the emotional.

  Brennan was taking shallow, uneven breaths. I felt regret, sadness, anger from him. He removed the washcloth from my hands. They'd started healing, the blood no longer collecting at the beds of my fingernails. Once he'd made sure I wasn't bleeding, he tossed the washcloth into the hamper and looked at me, his gaze meeting mine.

  "I'm tired, Bren," I said, and it hurt to talk. I fought back tears again, and he pulled me into his arms. Then he picked me up and carried me up the stairs.

  "Let me take care of you tonight. You can hate me tomorrow," he said as he carried me. We got into his room, and he kicked the door closed behind us. Then he laid me down on the bed and gently pulled off my shoes and socks, then my pants. I moved over so he could climb in beside me, and after stripping down to his boxers, he climbed in next to me and pulled me into his arms. I buried my face against his chest, put my arms around him. I fell asleep held tightly in his arms, just as I'd been dreaming about for what felt like an eternity, and I was too tired and in too much pain to care about anything else.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  When I woke up, bright morning sunlight was shining through the windows, and I could see the clear, blue autumn sky from my spot in bed. I could smell Brennan all around me, though I was in the bed alone. His scent was comforting and a punch to the gut all at the same time. I turned onto my side, buried my face in his pillow. I could feel him. I knew he still loved me, maybe more than he ever had. And I knew I loved him.

  I didn't know what to think about anything else. Yeah, I was pissed that he'd been unfaithful. But is it really unfaithful if he'd started to give up hope of me ever coming back? And he had given up hope; I got that from him, very clearly.

  Was I making excuses for him now?

  Really, it's not like I had any room to judge. Brennan and I were together less than a year after Nain had died.

  Except that I'd been sure my husband was dead. Brennan had known I was still alive.

  I took deep breaths. I didn't have to make any decisions right away. I had too much to do. My body still ached from when I'd used my powers the night before, and my head still throbbed. If this was going to happen every damn time I used my powers, this was going to be a problem.

  I was trying to figure out how to avoid pain (what a joke, right?) when the bedroom door opened. I knew it was Brennan before he stepped into the room. Our bond made it so I was constantly aware of his presence. I sat up as he walked in and closed the bedroom door behind him. He wore a gray Detroit Tigers t-shirt and jeans, and he had a cup in his hands.

  I couldn't help it. I smiled.

  Coffee.

  He laughed a little and handed it to me, then he sat on the edge of the bed. I took my first sip of the perfect, bitter, creamy, hot perfection, and shivers went up my spine. Brennan was watching me, eyes on my face, and I met his gaze despite myself.

  We didn't talk. I drank my coffee. It kind of reminded me of the weeks after Nain had died, the way he and I would just sit together in silence, comforted by each other's company.

  "So, how old is Sean?" I asked. I set the now-empty coffee cup on the nightstand and folded my hands in my lap. He reached over and took one of my hands gently in his. He ran his thumb over my palm, and an involuntary shiver went up my spine again, and this time it had nothing to do with a caffeine fix. The thought of pulling away didn't even enter my mind. As angry as I was at him, I'd waited forever to be close to him again.

  "He's a little over four months old," he said softly.

  "He looks just like you."

  He nodded. "That's what I keep hearing. You know what I wish?"

  I didn't answer.

  "I wish he looked like you. I wish he was yours. I wish I hadn't fucked up so bad. I can't regret him being here, because he's my son and other than you, I've never loved anyone so completely in my life."

  "You shouldn't regret him being here," I said. "And I wish he was mine, too. But he's not, and I'm not sure what that means for us."

  He sat in silence for a bit, thumb still tracing the long line that ran across my palm. "I hope it means that we can try again. I don't have any right to ask that of you. But I belong to you until the day I die, and that's not going to change."

  "Did you have any feelings for her?"

  "No." Not a single instant of hesitation. And I could feel that he was telling the truth. "If I hadn't have been weak and stupid, nothing ever would have happened. I knew it was wrong. I knew I should have gone home that night. I was pissed off and feeling sorry for myself, and I was starting to believe you'd never be back." He paused, shook his head. "I'm not making excuses for this. It doesn't matter what I was feeling or thinking. All that matters is that I screwed up, and I'm sorry. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, and if I lose you now--"

  "Shut up," I said. His eyes had been on mine the entire time, my hand clasped in his. The guilt and sadness coming from him told me better
than words how sorry he was. How afraid he was of losing me. "I love you. I am so angry and hurt right now. And I don't know if things will ever be the same between us. There's really no way they can be." In fact, the anger part of it was threatening to overtake everything else at that moment, rising up suddenly. It was venomous. Part of me wanted to hurt him, and not just physically. It was so out of character for me that it scared me. I forced it down, tried to stay in control, calm.

  He nodded, and I sensed crushing sadness from him.

  "We're going to take things slow. We're going to see how things are now. I love you, Brennan. Maybe I shouldn't. But I don't have a whole lot of room to judge you, considering how you and I got together. Maybe karma's a bigger bitch than I realized, and I had this coming."

  "Molly…"

  I shook my head, stopping him. "I think you should break your bond to me."

  He went absolutely still, stared at me. "No."

  "Not because of any of that," I said, waving it off. "For whatever reason, I'm in agony whenever I use my powers now. And I'm going to try not to use them until I figure out what the hell is going on, but there's no guarantee I won't have to. I don't want you in pain every time I use them."

  He shook his head. "I'd rather know if you're in pain."

  "You felt how bad it can be, last night," I said. "And you're going to be holding your son at times, and I don't want to put you in agony and hurt him by mistake if you drop him or something. You, I'm kind of okay with hurting just now. But I'd feel terrible if it ended up affecting him."

  "No," he said after a while. "I can feel the pain coming on. There's enough warning. I'm not breaking my bond to you."

  I let out an exasperated breath and tried to pull my hand out of his, and he just held it tighter. Then he pulled me toward him. "Stop being a stubborn ass," I said as he leaned toward me. "And do not even think of kissing me."

  "Too late," he said, and his lips claimed mine. Before long, his hands were tangled in my hair, and I wasn't sure if I was pushing him away or trying to pull him closer. I felt him open his mind to me as he kissed me, which was something he'd never done before.