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“You’re already angry at me.”
“I’m angry you didn’t tell me something this important. We could have had a chance to look after you better. Feed you better. I would not have…” Emrys clears his throat. “I would not have made you my sacrifice if I knew that you had a little baby inside you. I have infected you, which means I have infected the infant as well. It will not be as it was. It will not…”
“Was it hurt? Has it been…?” I can hardly form the questions. I am grateful for Atlas holding me, because if he was not I think I might faint. I knew that when Emrys had me on his sacrificial altar there was a chance I might not survive, but I was in a state of such surrender and utter despair, believing I had finally come to the end of a tragic road that there was no way out. All I hoped for was that my heart would keep beating long enough for the life inside me to live.
“I do not know,” Emrys says. “I do not like that I do not know. It depends what species the baby is. It depends on who the father was.”
“Numahn,” I murmur softly.
It takes a moment for the significance of that statement to settle into the minds of those who heard it.
“Which numahn?” Emrys asks the question with a carefully controlled anger.
“Just… a guy.”
“Do NOT lie to me!” He snaps sternly.
I burst into tears and bury my face in Atlas’ arms. I don’t want to answer any more questions. I don’t want to be interrogated and tell him all my shameful secrets.
“That’s enough.” Kronos speaks for the first time. “We do not need to know who the father is, or how he came to be the father. We will look after the infant regardless, as our own. She is our mate, and her progeny is our progeny. Simple as that.”
“Will you feel the same when the little abomination is born addicted to blood and craving death?” Emrys asks the question with barely controlled fury. “You do not understand. You wanted to have a baby. I did not. I performed the sacrifice assuming she was an empty vessel. Nothing was ever supposed to take root in her womb. Now I am to become a father to a creature…”
Atlas stands up, hands me to Kronos, and proceeds to beat the hell out of Emrys. Another human suit is sacrificed in his protective rage as he comes bursting out of all semblance of civilization, fists replete with dozens of sharp edges as he lays into Emrys with gallant conviction.
“You are not father to anything, blood drinker. You are a corruptor of innocence. You defiled our mate and now you have defiled her offspring inside her very womb. You are fortunate we allow you to continue to have anything to do with her.”
The valker guards are looking incredibly perturbed, but there’s not a single one of them prepared to defend their king against the brutality and fearsomeness of a scythkin. Atlas is the kind of force of nature that awes even those who are sworn to protect.
“Beg for mercy,” Atlas demands. “Beg me to allow you to continue existing, let alone be in the presence of our pregnant mate.”
“She’s not pregnant with any offspring of ours!”
“You’re complaining that this one is too much of yours. Kronos and I do not care that the infant is not going to be ours. We know what matters is keeping our mate safe. We know that we love her no matter what her past. Kronos cleaned up every mess she made from that diner to this bloodied planet, and I am staying because I know she might not survive you.”
“Why let me live at all then?” Emrys asks the question while streaming rivulets of his own essence. “Why not kill me now and share her between yourselves?”
“Because she loves you. And because you are the only one who seems able to make her stop running. You have forged a connection she needs, and so I will tolerate you. But it will not be without pain if you cannot control your natural cruelty.”
I bury my face in Kronos’ golden mane, and I do my best to shield myself from the violence Atlas is enacting on Emrys. The valker king deserves it no doubt, but Atlas is right. I do love Emrys. I love him because he broke me. He took me to a place beyond despair and denial, a place you can only get to if you have experienced both of those things completely and entirely.
I suppose I don’t mind that he is being beaten. It might help him reach the same place eventually. Valkers are tyrannical, arrogant, vicious creatures, and Emrys is the literal king of them all. What Altas is doing is probably the best thing for him.
Emrys starts to laugh, lying on the floor and making no attempt to shield himself from Atlas’ onslaught. He’d let the scythkin kill him, I think. I don’t think he cares. I think I’ve had an effect on Emrys that he could never have predicted. I might have broken him as much as he’s broken me. I don’t know how, but I recognize that reaction.
“Atlas, that’s enough,” Kronos says, setting me down on my feet. “We need him alive. Or we at least want him alive. I think.”
Atlas backs off, a hulking, seething, sharp-edged beast flecked with blood all over his hard exterior. I will never get over seeing him like this. In his human suited form he seems powerful but mild-mannered. In this form, he seems devastatingly dangerous.
I am aroused just watching him. I need a protector, and he is a protector through and through.
Emrys rises from the floor without a whimper, much to his credit. He can take a beating just as well as he can give one.
“It would seem such questions are not going to be answered until such time as the little bastard is born,” Emrys chokes out. He says the term little bastard with enough affection that Atlas hesitates before smacking him across the face, open palmed.
“Enough, scythkin,” Emrys rasps. “I enjoy pain as much as the average valker, but your point is already made.”
10 ANCIENT HISTORY
