Page 155 of Born for Silk

With blood or bargain…

I grit my teeth. “I will speak with the lords. Bled, Medan, Turin Two. I will support your right to a legacy, and they will agree.”

“If they do not?”

My brows tighten. “They will.”

Cairo nods and turns, walking through the spacious laboratory toward the exit. He pauses with his hand on the sensor. A green light on the wall glows, prefacing a click from inside the security door.

He looks back at me, a smooth smile on his lips. The kind that offers no sentiment, merely confidence. “Did they tell you, Sire? I saved the eagle for you. Odio. He had a wisp of life left, enough for us…” His pause is heavy. “I authorised stem cell rehabilitation, as we did with your lung. We gifted him a titanium metatarsus and ulna and put him in an incubator. When your lung has been properly observed and approved, you will be ready to return to The Estate, and he will be ready to fly above you.”

Chapter Eighteen

Aster

Rome is alive.

He is recovering.

But it has been two weeks, and it feels like the days churn, and churn, and churn. Like I am waiting at a closed door, watching it for decades.

I believe the reports we are sent each day from the Trade-tower—he is breathing, he is awake, he will return soon—but my heart won’t settle until I see him with my own adoring eyes, until my fingers feel his muscles shudder, until his skin covers mine and radiates warmth…

I roll to the side of his bed, my silky robe sliding over my skin but tight around my swollen belly, and tuck my new book into the drawer.

Han gave it to me.

It is old. The text is small, and it reads like a poem. Odd. Lyrical. Some of the stories are fantastical, others meaningful or completely nonsensical.

Han told me that if I ever wanted to talk about the book, that I could ‘come home.’

To the abbey.

I look around Rome’s room.

But I am home.

There is a part in the book that reads, ‘Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day?—’

I don’t know why, but that snippet reminds me of Rome. Of how he is healing. Day by day. Though, everything I read or see, reminds me of my king. Today, I saw his powerful body striding toward me when I glanced at the courtyard gate during the hour Daisy, Blossom, Ana, and I were given to play with Ana’s baby, Cardiff.

I hear his possessive growls each night when I touch myself, failing miserably to reach the pleasure he offers me.

And I sense him inside my womb.

In the Medi-deck, this first-light Paisley told me that the baby is big and strong and as I curl on my side, pulling my knees up, the heir rolls, a limb or shoulder poking out. I poke it back.

It doesn’t hurt, much.

My back spasms.

But I like the feeling of company, knowing a little piece of my king is here, but it is getting harder to sleep. Harder to relax. I’m hotter. Tighter. The skin around my belly itches and aches.

It does hurt—a little.

I toss and turn, the heir’s weight inside me dictating every position and all discomfort. Somewhere between awake and sleep, I hear the door open, feel the bed rock from side to side, and sense… him.

“Aster.” His nose trails up my throat moments before firm, warm lips press to mine, demanding I turn my head and accept them.

---