Page 36 of A Single Thread Of Hope

Kissing her hard, I wished I could as well. I loved that this was one small thing I could do for my family. I wasn’t just a tool made for war; I could be something soft and nurturing too. “If I could, I would. I’d have a dozen kids running around this place. Tiny little girls with your big eyes. Boys who look like toddlers when they’re born. Little siblings for these guys.”

However, nearly losing her during childbirth still gave me nightmares. I wasn’t sure any of us was in a hurry to do that again.

Bran was snuffling around, hungry, and I knew it was time for their feed and nap, especially if we wanted to stay at the party for a while tonight. Leaning forward, I whispered in Wren’s ear, “Why don’t you go have a long bath while I feed, change and put our babies down for a nap?”

She groaned and bit her fist. “Milonos, I do believe you have dirty talk down to a fine art,” she purred, but her eyes laughed at me.

So beautiful.

Dragging myself away, I headed to the kitchen to put bottles in the warmer. Rocking from side to side, I made shushing noises so Bran didn’t wake his brothers. I hummed a lullaby that was buried deep in my brain, one that my mother had sung to me and my siblings. The words were lost to time, but the tune was still there on my tongue.

A longing for my family, for my own kind, hit me in the chest. Having Wren and the babies had ripped open a wound that had only healed on the surface. I had this family now—and some of them I’d had for lifetimes more than I’d ever had my blood family—but there was something tragic about being the last of my kind.

Shaking off the hints of melancholy, I grabbed the now-warm bottles and moved toward the nursery. It was beautiful. Tryp had painted a mural of winged horses and clouds floating through an azure sky, and I’d made most of the furniture over the last few weeks, usually at night as I kept watch. The babies were still sleeping in the one crib I’d made, swaddled tightly. They almost seemed incomplete when they were separated; they’d cry and fuss until they were all together once more.

Moving to the bed, I slowly unstrapped each sleeping baby like they were bombs seconds from detonating. Zale and Emeric stayed blissfully asleep, and I shifted them gently to the crib, except for Bran, who was staring up at me with big, unblinking eyes. The color should be impossible this early in their life, but it was a vivid, ensnaring blue. It was one of the few differences between the boys. Each had a different eye color, from Emeric’s murky brown to Zale’s foggy hazel that lightened to green more and more every day.

Bran’s expression seemed older than it could possibly be, and while it had been a little disconcerting at first, I’d grown used to his stoic baby face.

“Let’s feed you before your brothers wake up, what do you say?” I whispered to him. Sliding into the reinforced rocking chair, I held him easily in my arms, feeding him the bottle as he continued staring up at me. “You’re an old soul, aren’t you? You’ve been here before.” He waved tiny hands, like he was trying to grab the bottle for himself. So independent already. “You’ve got such a big destiny, but I’m always going to be here to stand between you and danger. I promise you that.”

Bran just continued to drink and stare into my soul. I chuckled low, enjoying the moment. His brothers would wake soon, because they were like clockwork when it came to feeding. Then it would be a matter of juggling one, so the other didn’t think he was going to starve and start crying down the house. As if they knew what I was thinking, one of them let out a tiny whimper of indignation.

Tryp poked his head into the nursery. He’d probably been loitering outside the door, waiting for this moment. Tryp had been a surprise when it came to parenthood. He’d always been the most easygoing of us, all about whatever felt good. But he loved Wren, and I knew he loved these babies as an extension of her. He was the first to offer to do night feeds, he changed diapers, he snuggled fussy babies. He was more helpful than any of us could have predicted.

He seemed to enjoy it too, which was almost as surprising. Smiling into the crib, he looked over at me. “Need a hand?”

Bran still had half a bottle to go, so I nodded. “Yes.”

With gentle but greedy hands, he picked up Emeric and cuddled him close. “It feels almost supernatural, the connection I feel to these little guys. I don’t need Wren’s vision to know that my destiny is wrapped tightly to their happiness,” he said softly, and I grunted my assent. “And I don’t mind, even a little,” he cooed in a high baby voice. “It doesn’t hurt that I saw your mama naked a minute ago, all slippery and wet in the bath, andthat just makes the whole situation so much sweeter. Who would want to escape this fate?”

Smiling to myself, I looked down into the face of the baby in my arms once more. “Who indeed?”

Chapter 20

WREN

Ahuge bonfire in the center of town threw off so much heat, it was almost like a Hell pit had reopened. But the laughter and the smell of food on the air gave a far more welcoming atmosphere than a portal to Hell. Someone was playing a guitar, with several people singing along, though I didn’t understand any of it. I’d picked up a few Greek words in my time here, but most of the time, the guys spoke to me in English.

I looked over at Milo, who was proudly showing off all three babies strapped to his chest to a long line of admirers. The villagers didn’t know they were Mythics, or anything other than the most beautiful babies in the world. I trusted Milo with them, because he would murder this whole town to save them, regardless of his feelings toward the people. He was my marshmallow warrior, and he loved the triplets. It was there in every soft look, every stroke of their heads, the way his forearm banded beneath all three. Plus, he was huge enough, and strong enough, to carry them all.

It was weird to see my guys among the… well, mortals. Hell, it was weird to be outside the walls of our compound. The Valkyries were around, dressed casually, but I knew theirweapons were just enchanted so they couldn’t be seen. They were there, just like Nate’s ax was strapped across his back.

He was more casual than I’d seen him in so long, laughing and drinking with a bunch of elderly residents, listening to their stories in stilted English. The darkness of the night had settled over the crowd, lit only by hanging lights, and it was comforting rather than terrifying.

Are you all right, my mate?Griff’s voice in my head was a sweet purr, and when I looked over, I saw Teron walking toward me, food in his hands. He nuzzled his cheek against mine as I took the plate. The smells coming from it made my mouth water. Thick slices of meat and fresh bread were piled up on the rough porcelain, along with a huge range of salad that vied for space.

I smiled up at him, but responded to Griff.I’m fine. I’m having a really lovely time.

Teron raised an eyebrow. “But?”

“I have my perfect babies, and my perfect boyfriends—and mate—in this beautiful tiny village filled with people who love and care for them, but I miss home. I miss Mrs. Byrne. I miss Rossi’s deli. I miss my life back when it made sense.”

“Wren—” Teron started, but I placed my finger against his lips.

“But I have no regrets. And even when this is all over, my home is with you guys now, and while my life might be more… complicated, I wouldn’t change anything. Not where we live. Not the babies.Nothing.”

He lifted me onto his lap and fed me pieces of my food from his fingers, his eyes hungrily watching my lips as they closed around the food. There was a heat between us, and my body was almost healed from the triplets. God knows, my libido had definitely healed and was raring to go.

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