Page 91 of Rescued By Four Alphas
Onyx moves closer, his large hand gently stroking my hair. "Rest, okay. Your body needs to heal, and your children need you strong."
I want to resist, to stay awake and watch over my babies, but my body betrays me, and my eyes drift close despite my best efforts to keep them open.
"I don't want to go back there," I murmur as sleep claims me. "Promise you'll keep me here. Keep me safe."
"Always," I hear them answer in unison, their voices following me down into darkness. "Always."
Chapter 27 - Leo
Istand in the doorway of the nursery, watching Dahlia with our daughter. The sight pulls at something deep in my chest. Three weeks ago, I thought I might lose them all. When she opened her eyes, I could barely believe the ancient ritual had worked.
"That's impossible," Evan says from his position by the temperature controls. "Babies don't smile responsively until six weeks. Knox is only fourteen days old."
"Tell that to Knox." Dahlia lifts our son from the bassinet. "He knows his mama."
The nursery glows with soft light from the custom fixtures Evan insisted on installing. The four cribs form a semicircle in the center of the room, and each is equipped with monitoringsystems. They are out of the incubators, but they still need to be monitored twenty-four seven.
Axl sits cross-legged on the carpet, and Zane is balanced on his lap. He bounces him gently while humming a melody. Zane stares up at him with his tiny hand wrapped around Axl's finger.
"Jaxon just burped so loud I think he woke himself up," Onyx says from by the windows. He holds our youngest son against his chest, patting his back with a gentleness that contradicts his massive frame.
I move to sit on the arm of Dahlia's chair, and she leans into me, her body solid, warm, and alive. The memory of her on that table in Reid's facility threatens to surface, but I push it down.
"Nova wants her dad," Dahlia says, passing our daughter to me.
Nova weighs almost nothing in my arms. She arrived first and remains the smallest of our four, but Dr. Marianna assures us she's right on track for a baby born eight weeks early. Her eyes fix on mine with an intensity that seems impossible for someone so new to the world.
"Hello, little star," I say to her. The name suits her. It means bright, beautiful, and extraordinary.
Dahlia reaches for Zane, who Axl hands over with exaggerated care.
"I swear he doubled in size overnight," Axl says. "That's your influence, Onyx. I think you're going to turn my son into a giant."
"Our son," Onyx corrects. "And it's good he's strong."
"They're all strong," Evan says, eyes still on the monitors. "Their vitals improve every day."
"And yet you check those screens every five minutes," Dahlia teases. "They won't disappear if you look away, you know."
"I like to know the data," Evan says with no apology. "It helps me sleep."
"Nothing helps me sleep," Axl groans. "I forgot what sleep feels like."
"You slept six hours yesterday," I remind him.
"In fifteen-minute increments."
Dahlia shifts Zane to her shoulder. "Welcome to parenthood. Though I still think we have it easy. Most parents of newborns don't have a staff of twenty-four dads to share the load."
"Most parents don't have quadruplets," Onyx points out.
We've quickly established a routine with surprising speed. They often sleep throughout the night, but Knox almost always wakes up, hungry and very vocal about it, at five. The others follow within minutes, as if they communicate on some frequency onlythey understand. Dahlia sleeps in the nursery with either one or two of us.
By afternoon, we all get a precious two hours when they all nap at once. The house staff move like ghosts during this time, their footsteps muffled by the plush carpets Evan installed throughout the house.
"We can't know for sure," I tell Dahlia, studying our daughter's features.
"Why are you being modest? I'm sure you'll throw a fit if none of them looks like you."
