This bonus scene takes place at the end of To Tempt a Witch to Sin, so if you haven’t read that book yet, be aware that there will be spoilers in this scene.
***
“Merle, this is Tallak. Rhun will be right over.”
And with that not-at-all cryptic statement by Tallak, the call disconnected, and Merle was left staring at her phone.
Next, she stared at the liquid dripping down her legs and collecting in a little pool on the wooden floor of the foyer. She stared at that, numb, her mind void of all thoughts, for a good minute.
Shock, she realized. This must be shock.
What shook her out of it was a squeezing pain in her lower back and abdomen.
With a sharp inhale, she laid her hand on her lower belly, right underneath the swell of her baby bump. She could feel the muscles contracting there. Counting the seconds, she breathed through the pain. It wasn’t bad yet, just like medium period cramps.
Okay, the contraction only lasted about ten seconds. Checking the time, she noted it on her phone.
Deep breath in, deep breath out.
It didn’t help alleviate the frisson of fear inside her, the worry about not having Rhun here, the uncertainty about what was going on out there in the streets…not to mention the dawning horror of the scale of the insane witch’s masterplan, and what it would mean if Hazel couldn’t stop her in time.
Merle and Rhun couldn’t leave the Portland Metro area now. Not with the baby coming.
Gods, this was all messed up. This was not how it was supposed to go. The plan had been to have a witch assist her with the delivery, the way it had been done forever in the community. With their healing powers, witches were apt at helping during births, and their ancestors had worked in this field in centuries past, as midwives and wise women.
It was only if there was a complication, say the baby was breech, that the witches would hand the delivery over to doctors.
Merle had figured Hazel would be there to help her. Traditionally, the role of midwife fell to one of the older witches in the family…but none of the MacKennas was alive still to step up. Hazel was the closest thing Merle had to an aunt or mother-by-choice, and she’d fully expected her to be by her side.
But now…now Hazel was out there, fighting desperately to keep a mad witch from killing all demons and shifters in the area.
If she didn’t succeed—Rhun would die. Their baby would die.
And maybe even…Merle herself.
Because if the spell went active when the baby was still inside her, it might just kill Merle along with the babe.
She had to grab the railing of the stairs to steady herself, her breath far too shallow, far too fast. Panic clouded her mind.
Snap out it. Snap out of it!
She couldn’t afford to drown in fear right now. With her heart beating a staccato rhythm, she forced herself to focus on things she could see, feel, smell. Things to ground herself in the moment, to calm her nervous system.
The feel of the chipped wood of the railing beneath her fingers.
The smell of herbs and old wallpaper.
The loose thread on the rug under her feet.
Bit by bit, her breath evened out. Her heart slowed down.
And that was when the next contraction hit her.
More painful than the previous one, it made her double over and gasp. Oh, gods. That hadn’t even been five minutes. What was happening? Weren’t these things supposed to come farther apart at first?
Shit, if the contractions were speeding up like this, she really needed to get to the hospital.
With all the other witches engaged in some apocalyptic battle with demons in the city, the L&D department of Providence was the next best choice. Not ideal to reach, what with the fighting in the streets, but there really wasn’t an alternative, and it was the closest hospital nearby. No way could she have this baby here at home, alone, with no one medically or magically trained to help her.
Normally, she’d have time, could wait out the first stage of labor—which was supposed to take hours—and wait until the contractions came closer and got more painful. But with her water broken and the contractions already coming faster, she needed to get to the hospital soon.
There wasn’t time to leave the city and wait outside the huge pentacle the mad witch had drawn around Portland. Who even knew how far beyond the pentacle’s borders the banishment spell would lash out? With a spell of this scale, it was hard to gauge how big of an area would truly be impacted by the magic. If they wanted to escape the radius of the spell, they’d have to flee far out into the country.
And that was simply not possible now.
She took a bracing breath.
First order of business, cleaning up the mess on the floor, changing into fresh clothes—including a pad, so she wouldn’t keep dripping wherever she went.
Another contraction hit her while she was checking the hospital bag. Dammit, they really were only a few minutes apart now, and fucking painful, to boot.
Where was Rhun?
She checked her phone, but he hadn’t called or texted since Tallak had told her he was on his way. It did take about 20 minutes by car to get here from Hazel’s, but with the city apparently being in a state of emergency…it might be longer until he arrived at the Victorian.
All right, time to rally the additional support.
“Dad?” she called out, moving toward the backroom off the kitchen that he’d reclaimed for himself. He’d spend a lot of time in there working on his little models of cars and ships, adding to the collection he’d already accumulated before Maeve’s phoenix had damaged his mind and sent him into a catatonic state for all these years.
When Merle entered the room, she was greeted with the scents she’d always associate with her dad—wood, paint, glue, and the turpentine he used as a thinner. All at once, she was taken back to her early childhood, to the many times she’d come in here and watched him work. There he’d be, hunched over his desk, the light of the standing lamp angled right onto his hands that held tiny pieces of plastic or wood, depending on what he was building that day.
And now, just as then, he barely even noticed her entering the room, such was his focus on his task. The radio played in the background, some oldie rock station.
Her chest pinched tight, warmth flooding her at the sight. Just a few months ago, she could have never dreamed of having her dad back here at home, in his right mind. Of ever watching him build his models again, of seeing his slow smile when he’d finally look up and notice her.
Really notice her, seeing her as Merle, and not a specter of his addled mind.
Now, she watched him glue a tiny piece onto a larger piece, and cleared her throat. She knew better than to dive right into a conversation with him when he was like this. He wouldn’t even hear her until she’d repeated herself a couple of times. “Hey, Dad?”
He made a noncommittal sound that wasn’t quite an acknowledgement of her presence yet.
“Dad. It’s me.”
“Mh-mh.”
“Listen. I need to talk to you.”
He blinked, and she could virtually see how he came out of his work focus to slide back into reality. His spine straightened, the look of concentration on his face cleared up, and his breathing sped up a little.
Turning to the doorway, a brilliant smile slowly stole onto his face as he beheld her. “Merle. Hey. What’s up, sweetie?”
It would never cease to infuse her with a burst of joy at hearing him call her by her name—and not Maeve’s, as he’d been doing for years while he’d been so broken.
“So,” she began, her hand on her protruding belly, “you know those plans we had for the delivery?”
Her dad’s bushy eyebrows knitted together. “Hazel was gonna come here, right? To help?”
“Yeah,” she said, drawing the word out. “Change of plans. Hazel can’t make it. And the other witches are busy fighting some sort of demon insurgency all over town, and now my water just broke, and I’m having contractions only minutes apart that are painful enough to lay me flat, so… We need to head for Providence.”
He stared at her unblinking for a moment, clearly not comprehending the scope of what she’d just said.
“Dad.” She tilted her head. “The baby is coming, and we don’t have witch assistance, so we need to go to the hospital. Now.”
And as if to underscore her statement, another contraction hit her, like someone twisted something inside her that was absolutely not meant to be twisted.
Crying out, she grabbed the nearest table for purchase and hunched over. Fuck, that hurt.
“Merle!”
Her dad was by her side the next moment, steadying her with an arm around her shoulders. “Okay. Oh, God. Okay. Baby’s coming. Okay. I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’ll just—I’ll get the bag.”
He ran off just as the contraction faded, then ran back in the next moment.
“Where’s the bag?” His ashy brown hair stood on end, as if he’d just run his hands through it and managed to get it all messed up in the span of seconds.
Merle sighed, straightened, and rubbed her lower back with a grimace. “Sitting in the middle of the foyer, ready for the car.”
“Right, yes. The car. I’ll put it in the car.”
And with that, he ran out again.
Merle followed him at a slower pace, still feeling the aftershocks of that most recent contraction. It almost seemed like the pain wasn’t quite going away. Was that normal? Gods, she really needed someone experienced by her side who could reassure her. Hopefully the nurses at Providence would be nice.
As she passed through the foyer, her gaze snagged on the picture of her mom hanging on the wall there. She should be here. Her chest tightened, her eyes burning. I want my mom.
But Emily MacKenna was gone, burned to death in the fiery explosion of Maeve’s inner beast. She wasn’t here to hold Merle’s hand, to talk her through the fear and the pain. She’d never get to see her granddaughter.
Tears now clouding her eyes, Merle carefully stepped out onto the porch—only to see the blurry taillights of her dad’s car disappear down the street. What the—?
The car made a sudden stop and then turned around with screeching tires and sped up the driveway to the Victorian again. Her dad popped out and ran up the steps, eyes wild.
“Sorry!” he called out. “Sorry, sweetheart. I forgot—I thought you were already—I forgot.”
She’d never seen him this frazzled.
“Dad,” she said with a sigh. “How are you this nervous? You had three kids! Shouldn’t you be used to this entire thing?”
He wrung his hands. “It’s just…back then, it wasn’t my baby girl having a baby. That’s different.”
Softening, she reached out and grabbed his hand. She sometimes forgot that for him, the time that had passed while he was stuck in his own mind often seemed far shorter than the years she’d lived in the meantime. And that when he looked at her, he’d often still see the ten-year-old she was before he’d become catatonic. It must be jarring then, to see your child suddenly all grown up…and having a baby.
“It’s okay, Dad.” She squeezed his hand. “Just…try to be a bit calmer, okay? That would help me.”
“Of course.” He nodded, and then assisted her down the porch steps and into the car.
They made it about two blocks before the traffic slowed to a crawl. Another contraction hit, and Merle breathed through it as best she could. It was going to be okay. She could handle pain. After all, she’d been paying back to the Powers That Be for years, and that involved levels of pain that often knocked her unconscious.
Her dad drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, staring out at the row of taillights ahead of them. They moved at a glacial pace. Sirens sounded in the distance.
She sent a quick text to Rhun letting him know they were on their way to Providence and to meet them there.
No response. He was probably driving and didn’t get the notification. He’d read it later then.
“It’ll take all night to get there if it keeps up like this,” her dad muttered. “Let me see if I can find another way.”
At the next possible turn, he swerved onto a side street, circled a few blocks around and took an alternate route. Traffic was still slow here, but moving faster than on the other street. Still, what should have been a trip of fifteen minutes at the max took more than triple that—and they still hadn’t arrived at Providence. They’d crossed I-30 at least, so there was that.
Merle had been struggling through increasingly severe contractions, barely noticing what was going on anymore, her vision hazed with pain. What little she noticed of the outside, though…it made her spine ice with fear.
The city was on fire.
Thick smoke hung in the air, flames from burning buildings casting the darkened city silhouette in an eerie orange light show. Here and there, entire streets and blocks had lost electricity, and shapes moved in the dark. Screams rent the air, underlaid by the near incessant sounds of sirens. First responders were running around, trying to get into the thick of it. Overhead, helicopters circled, their beams of light illuminating the apocalyptic scenery on the ground.
Merle’s heart pounded. The demons had really gone on the offensive then, not caring one bit about keeping a low profile anymore. Gods, when—if—they all somehow got through this and managed to squash that insurgency, it would be one hell of a cleanup job to remove all the video and photographic evidence people had surely taken of the otherworldly creatures running amok.
And the casualties… By the Powers, she didn’t want to know how high that number already ran.
And here she was, heavily pregnant, weakened, stuck in a car with her very human dad, surrounded by what looked like hell on Earth…and she had neither witch backup nor Rhun at her side.
“We should have stayed home,” she pressed out through gritted teeth, riding the wave of yet another contraction. Ugh, that pressure low in her back, that urge to bear down…
Her dad turned to look at her, and he schooled his features a second to late. She’d glimpsed the naked fear in his eyes, the tension lines running deep. Sweat beaded on his brow.
“It’ll be okay,” he said, obviously trying hard to infuse his voice with reassurance. “We’ll make it, you hear me? Just hang on a little longer.”
He was just turning back around when something hard and heavy landed on the car’s hood with a thump that shook the entire vehicle. Merle lurched forward, the seat belt cutting painfully into her sensitive breasts and into her lower abdomen. Her dad grunted as the impact threw him into his seat belt as well. The car came to a swerving stop.
Merle peered outside, barely able to make out the creature squatting on the hood—this neighborhood, like so many others, was swathed in darkness, all electricity cut. Screeching tires and swishing lights indicated other cars around them trying to make it the fuck out of here.
Something like wings flared around the shape on the hood, and a faraway helicopter beam bathed the thing in enough light for a moment that Merle could see it.
“What in the name of all that’s unholy…” her dad murmured.
Yeah. That about summed it up. Leathery wings, wrinkled skin, a row of pointed teeth…a diabolus, a demon aptly named for how its appearance resembled folk images of the devil. Nasty motherfucker, that one. A rare species, highly aggressive, liked to eat their prey while it was still alive.
Instead of explaining all of that to her dad, she simply said, “Bad. Very bad.”
And her dad, bless his human heart, had lived long enough around witches to roll with the punches.
“Got it, sweetie,” he simply said and checked behind him. “Hold on tight.”
Then he put the car in reverse and backed up with enough of a kick to surprise the diabolus and make it tumble off the hood. He quickly rolled down the window and threw something out of it and straight at the demon visible in the car’s headlights.
The next second, a huge explosion shook the air, and Merle shielded her eyes against the flaring light. Where the diabolus had stood, nothing remained but parts and soot and smoking…something.
Merle turned to her dad with wide eyes. “Was that…a grenade?”
“Yep.”
“Where did you get a grenade?”
“Don’t ask questions you’re not prepared to hear the answer for.”
Merle opened her mouth, then wisely closed it again.
The ever-present pain inside her built to another crescendo yet again, and she gritted her teeth against the intense pressure to push. Not now. Not yet. She couldn’t just pop out that baby right here, in the car, while they were beleaguered by demons.
Her dad got the car moving again, steering around debris on the street. If she held on just a bit more, maybe they could actually make it to the hospital in time. But how long could she resist that urge to push? Was that even possible? What if it was wrong not to push, and she was harming the baby?
Godsdammit, of all the times to go into labor, she had to choose the one night when all hell broke loose in Portland. Fucking Murphy’s Law.
They were just turning the corner onto the next street, her dad having to drive slowly to evade debris and—oh gods—bodies strewn on the road, when something knocked into the car from the side, sending it careening against the row of vehicles parked on the side.
The impact jostled Merle around in her seat, triggering more pain. Her passenger side was now wedged against the parked car next to them, and when she blinked through the driver’s side window, the sight of the beast moving in the darkness stopped her heart.
Three times the size of a normal wolf, the hellhound stalked forward toward the car, impressive teeth bared in a snarl.
“Dad,” Merle whispered. “You got any more of those grenades?”
“One,” he replied, his voice pressed. “But I can’t throw it at this distance—that beast is too close.”
“Can you drive?” Maybe they could outrun it.
He turned the engine over, but it only sputtered before failing completely. Uttering a foul curse, he kept trying it, to no avail. The car was dead.
And they would be, too, if the hellhound got to them.
Desperately, Merle reached for her magic. She’d been trying to save it because the more she used, the more she’d eventually have to pay back once the baby was here, and if she had to pay back too much at once, it’d hurt like a motherfucker.
But desperate times, desperate measures. If she didn’t use some magic now, she wouldn’t be there later to pay any of it back.
Another wave of pain slammed into her in that very moment, short-circuiting her brain, making her lose her grip on her powers. Vision glazed over with pain, she looked out at the hellhound circling the car—at death breathing down her neck.
The beast crouched, its night-glow eyes set on the driver’s seat, and lunged.
Her dad threw his arms out and made himself bigger—to shield her. Heart in her throat, tears burning in her eyes, she fumbled for her elusive magic.
The hellhound never made contact with the car.
A shape slammed into the beast from the side, hurling it down the street. The two figures rolled over and over until they came to a sudden stop yards away. A mostly silent fight ensued, both shapes moving so fast, Merle couldn’t make out any details in the low light. The battle was a blur of shadows.
A yelp and a whine, and then all at once, the fight stopped.
Merle strained to see out the windshield while another contraction made her vision go woozy. A lone figure rose to its feet above the shadowy outline of a massive canine-looking body.
“Looks like the hound is dead,” her dad whispered.
The figure only stood still for a second, and then it moved at lightning speed toward the car. Merle didn’t even have time to determine whether the shape zooming closer was friend or foe. The next second, the door to the driver’s side was yanked open, and both Merle and her dad blinked, stunned, at a familiar face covered in blood and gore.
“Rhun!” Merle shouted, relief making her dizzy.
“Merle.” He was panting, blood dripping down his nose and chin, his dark hair plastered to his head, his clothing soaked in scarlet. “Are you all right?”
“You’re here,” was all she could choke out past the emotions rattling her. Her adrenaline still high, she reached for him with shaky hands.
“Hold on.” Rhun yanked at the car and effortlessly moved it away from the other car it had crashed into sideways, then he simply leaped over the hood and pulled the passenger-side door open.
Merle sank into his arms with a sob, uncaring of the blood and possibly guts sticking to him.
“I’m so scared,” she whispered into his neck.
“I’m here. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
She hiccuped. “How did you find us?”
“I tracked you on my phone.”
When she gave him a puzzled look, he elaborated, “Your location sharing is still on. I took the car as far as I could make it, but the roads were all jammed, so I got out and ran most of the way. Checking your location was faster than to keep calling you.” He cradled her face, his eyes wild. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, then grunted in pain as another contraction hit her.
“Merle!”
“She’s been having severe contractions for a while now,” her dad said from behind her. “They’ve been getting more frequent.” A pause, then, in a hushed voice, as if he was trying to avoid her hearing him, “I think she’s minutes away from giving birth. Maeve’s delivery was like that. Incredibly fast and violent. Emily wasn’t prepared at all.”
Rhun’s wide eyes tracked over her shoulder, to her dad. “How far is the hospital?”
“About ten blocks from here, just straight down this road and then take a left.”
“I can make it.” And with those words, Rhun unbuckled her seat belt and made to scoop her into his arms.
“No!” Merle slapped his hands away, panic seizing her stomach in a tight fist.
“What?” Rhun glared at her.
“We can’t leave my dad.”
Rhun’s eyes flicked back to him.
“Go,” her dad said. “Take her. I’ll be fine.”
“No!” Merle yelled. “I won’t leave him. Not here. He can’t defend himself.”
“I’ll just lock myself in the car and hunker down.” Her dad’s voice was firm. “It’ll be all right.”
She twisted as much as she could and glowered at him. “You’ll be a sitting duck! What if another hellhound or demon comes along and cracks the car open?” Her lower lip trembled. “I won’t lose you, too, Dad. I can’t.”
“Merle, we don’t have time for this,” Rhun said through gritted teeth. “You and our baby’s safety come first. I can run back for him once you’re in the hospital.”
She wanted to shoot back a snarled reply, but another contraction stole the words and her breath. Hunching over, she grabbed Rhun’s shoulder and screamed.
“Fuck it, that’s it.” Rhun gently picked her up, one arm under her knees, the other supporting her back, and rose to his feet.
From somewhere to the side, a blood-curdling growl rolled out of the darkness. Rhun froze, and Merle felt his muscles strain under her hands where she held onto him. His demon power pulsed darkly.
“Frank,” Rhun said in a low voice, “scoot down in the car as far as you can, and make yourself invisible.”
“No,” Merle whispered hoarsely, her heart splintering.
From the shadows to the left of the car, a group of demons emerged, some humanoid, others in horrid, very much not human-like shapes. The collective power of their demon magic washed up against Merle, making her hair stand on end and her weak witch magic spark underneath her skin. Their malevolence was a palpable force in the air.
“Don’t,” she whispered to Rhun. “Don’t leave him here with them.”
Rhun cursed under his breath. “I can’t fight them all, little witch. Either we run now, or we die along with your dad.”
The pain lancing her heart made her choke for air.
“What do we have here?” the demon at the front of the group drawled, flashing his sharp canines.
A whistling sound came from the sky, a second before something slammed into the ground right between the group of demons and Rhun holding Merle protectively behind the car. Inky, cold darkness spread out on a hush, bathing everything in stygian gloom, the distant glow of fires extinguished for a moment.
When the chilly, velveteen gloom receded, the first thing Merle saw between her and the demons were two massive wings. Black, bat-like, striated by thin blue veins like fine marble, they stretched out for at least ten yards across, before they were folded together with precise control. The last of the darkness gave way to reveal the shape of a man, from whose back the wings sprouted. He faced the group of demons, and it took Merle’s frazzled brain far too long to identify him.
“What do you have here?” Deimos said in a voice as controlled as it was menacing, like a cold blade pressing against one’s throat. “Your lord and master’s heavily pregnant sister-in-law, her mate, and her father, that’s what. And Arawn does not take kindly to someone threatening his family.”
The demon at the front of the group paled and stumbled back a step, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “We didn’t know!”
“That is irrelevant,” Arawn’s right-hand man said. “Even if you didn’t happen to have the misfortune to have unwittingly targeted the Demon Lord’s family, you are wreaking havoc on his lands, marauding and pillaging against his orders. That will stop now.”
The demon sputtered. “We’re on witch territory! The Demon Lord has no say here!”
“He does now.” Deimos regarded his fingernails. “As of a moment ago, the witches are pledged to Arawn. Their lands are his, and I am here to clean up.”
Impossibly, the demon paled further, panic twisting his expression. “Wait—”
Deimos unfurled his wings and beat them once. A rumble like thunder rolled out through the night, the demons seized as if electrocuted and then fell to the ground, their limbs stiff, their eyes unblinking. A moment later, their bodies disintegrated, leaving behind nothing but dust.
Merle stared at the scene before her. She didn’t know what to be more shocked by, the almost casual way with which Deimos had just poofed a group of half a dozen demons, or the offhand comment about the witches pledging their allegiance to Arawn. What the hell was going on?
She gritted her teeth against another, even more painful contraction just as Deimos turned around, adjusting the sleeves of his dark gray shirt.
His cold eyes tracked to her. “Are you well?”
“She needs to get to the hospital,” Rhun answered for her. “She’s moments away from giving birth.” He jerked his head toward the car. “I can make it if I run, but her father needs protection.”
Deimos glanced at her dad’s head poking out of the car. “Consider it done. I will escort him to the hospital.” Looking back at Rhun, he gave a single nod. “Go.”
“Thank you,” Merle breathed, pain still twisting her back and lower abdomen.
“Hold on, little witch.” Rhun hefted her a bit higher. “This might get bumpy.”
“That,” she ground out, “was what you said right before we made this baby.”
Rhun huffed out a laugh as he started to run. “You’re stealing my lines.”
She squeezed his neck where she held on to him, and that was really all she could do at this point. The jostling from Rhun’s high-speed run made the next contraction all the worse, and she might have blacked out for a moment, because the next time she opened her eyes, they were just barging into the emergency room entry.
The room was packed, frantic energy assaulting her senses, people sitting, crouching, lying all over, nurses and doctors whisking between them, children wailing. Of course…with the hellscape outside, there’d be a flood of injured here.
She barely heard how Rhun yelled for help, how he barked at the nurse who came to speak with him. She just clung to him for dear life because that pressure in her lower belly, the urge to bear down, the pain splitting her in half…it made the world outside fall away, her entire focus narrowing down to breathing through the contraction and trying to hold on for a few minutes longer.
He must have somehow convinced the staff that she needed immediate care, because despite the hospital being overrun by people seeking help, Merle quickly found herself in the labor and delivery department, where Rhun had impossibly managed to get her taken care of in a private room by a doctor/nurse combo, even though she wasn’t pre-registered at the hospital and the L&D department likely had their hands full with other emergencies as well.
She faintly heard a staff member argue with Rhun about needing her medical history, her insurance and other bureaucratic stuff, until the nurse suddenly fell silent.
“What did you do?” Merle pressed out through gritted teeth.
She was asking too many questions, he replied in her head.
Rhun, she hissed.
Don’t worry, she’s fine. He gently laid her on the bed. I just gave her the mental suggestion that all was well and she had all the information they need. We can sort it all out later.
The next hour passed by in a blur. Later, Merle couldn’t even really remember the order of things or pertinent details, just that she somehow made it through pain worse than she’d experienced even when paying back to the Powers That Be, with Rhun hovering at her side, being her rock and steady support, until finally, after what seemed like hours but were probably just minutes judging by the hectic activity of the staff, she lay exhausted on the bed while Rhun placed her newborn daughter on her chest, skin to skin.
Her daughter had cried in a strong, demanding, angry little voice after coming into this world, but upon feeling Merle’s warmth and hearing her heartbeat where she lay, the babe calmed down immediately.
The relief, the joy, the sheer drop in fear Merle felt was staggering, the maelstrom of emotions in her so wild it threatened to pull her under.
But Rhun was there, grasping her hand, his focus on her the anchor she needed.
“You did it,” he whispered, such affection and pride in his voice. “She’s here, and she’s healthy, and I couldn’t be more proud of you.”
He kissed her cheek, and she sobbed, so overwhelmed by love and gratitude and brutal exhaustion.
The staff left them alone to bond, and Merle barely noticed their leaving the room, so engrossed was she in gazing at her beautiful, squishy baby. Her skin a healthy rosé, her cheeks plump and her nose the cutest little button, her head covered in dark hair, she was just incredible.
“She’s so tiny,” she said softly, stroking over fingers so small, they looked like artificial miniatures.
“She’s perfect,” Rhun murmured.
Merle peered at him, a small smile spreading on her face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this enamored with anything.”
And it was true—the way he stared at their daughter, his face alight with a joy so deep, so blinding, it transformed him into a vision of blissful contentment.
“I will kill anyone who even looks at her wrong,” he muttered with a beatific smile.
“Of course.” Merle nodded. Then, she added quietly, “About her name.”
They had never settled on one. Every time the topic came up, Merle derailed the conversation, purposefully pushing the decision off. Eventually, Rhun had stopped bringing it up, and they’d silently agreed to tackle the subject when the baby was born.
Only, Merle had already long ago decided what the name should be. She just wanted it to be a surprise.
Now Rhun wrenched his gaze away from their daughter to give Merle a probing look. “Yes?”
“I know what I want to name her.”
He raised a brow. “Arwen?”
She tsked. “No.”
“Galadriel?”
“No,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
He snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “Shelob.”
“Rhun! Why would I name our daughter after that spider monster from Lord of the Rings?”
He shrugged. “She was fierce and cunning?”
“Ugh.” She swatted at his shoulder, careful not to jostle the baby in the process.
“All right, then,” he said in a more serious voice, though a spark of amusement still lit his stunning eyes. “Let’s hear it.”
She bit her lip and held his gaze. “Siani.”
Rhun stilled. The air in the room seemed to hush. Through the expression of calm interest he’d sported just a second ago broke something so fragile yet profound, an emotion as deep as the wound behind it was old. His lashes trembled over eyes that had darkened, whether with memory or pain or the brotherly love he’d felt for a sister that had been taken from him too young, Merle didn’t know.
Had she miscalculated? Read him wrong? She’d thought it would be a beautiful tribute to his late sister, a way to give her a living legacy, a vibrant place honoring her within their new, small family. But maybe it was too painful a reminder?
“If you don’t like it,” she hastened to say, “we can go with something el—”
“No,” he interrupted her, his voice husky. He cleared his throat. “No. Siani is…” He swallowed, his gaze drawn back to their daughter. “It’s perfect.” Reaching out, he stroked a finger over the baby’s cheek, then he grasped Merle’s hand and squeezed it. “Thank you.”
Joy burst inside her chest.
“I thought,” she said quietly, “your sister might have liked that. And maybe, wherever she is, if she can look over here and she sees our daughter and hears her name called, she’ll smile.”
Rhun nodded, blinking suspiciously fast.
A knock sounded on the door, and Rhun was on his feet in a split second, putting himself between the bed and the entrance.
“Come in,” Merle called out, not alarmed at all. Anyone who might mean harm wouldn’t deign to knock, but she wouldn’t point that out to Rhun. Why insult his protective instinct when it was so damn cute?
The door opened, and her father poked his head inside. “Everything good? You okay to see me, pumpkin?”
“I’m always okay to see you, Daddy,” she said on a small laugh, so incredibly happy to have him here, in full control of his faculties, able to truly see her—and his first granddaughter.
Her dad entered the room as one might a place sacred to the gods, with such awe on his face and reverence in every step. Gaze glued to the bundle on her chest, he approached the bed.
“Is that her?” he whispered.
“No,” Rhun whispered back. “That’s the burrito I got from the cafeteria.”
“Rhun!” Merle carefully swatted his shoulder again.
Her dad took Rhun’s joke with a good-natured laugh. Over the past few months, both males had settled into an easy relationship, with her quiet father taking Rhun’s quirky sarcasm in stride, and Merle had the distinct impression her dad appreciated Rhun all the more for how he managed to lighten the mood with his antics. He’d even once told her how much he valued that Rhun made her laugh and kept her on her toes with his teasing.
“He makes you so happy,” her dad had said. “And he’s good for you. That’s really all a father wants for his daughter.”
It still warmed her heart to think of how her dad had accepted Rhun—a demon—as her mate, had accepted him into their family and treated him with the casual ease of an approving father-in-law.
“Dad,” she now said, and moved the blanket down a bit so he could see the baby better, “meet your granddaughter, Siani.”
The smile on her dad’s face could have lit up an entire stadium. “Hey, there, Siani,” he crooned and touched one of her itty-bitty hands. “I’m your granddad. I’ll give you all the candy your mom says you can’t have.”
“Dad,” Merle laughed.
He caught her gaze, love warming his eyes. “She’s beautiful. I’m so proud of you, pumpkin.”
“Thank you.” Her smile was watery, tears of bliss once more threatening to spill.
“Your mom would have been beside herself with joy,” her dad said with a quiet note of grief. “Your grandmother, too. You”—he turned to Siani again and caressed her pudgy face—“follow in the footsteps of some truly great women and witches, little one. And while they may not be here to greet you, their energy lives on in you and will give you strength, always.”
“Dad…” Merle’s voice broke, her tears running hotly down her face.
Her chest felt like it split open, and all the emotions that were too big, too pressing, tore out of her. Grief mingled with happiness, longing with hope, remembrance with the anticipation of all the future held in stock.
And while she lay there in the bed, her newborn daughter on her chest, it seemed, for just a moment, as if the ghosts of the people gone too soon gathered around her, and for the span of a few heartbeats, Merle felt like they were truly there, blessing the new life she’d brought into this world.
***
I hope you enjoyed this special bonus scene! The birth of Rhun and Merle’s baby was something that definitely deserved its own page time, but I felt it didn’t fit into To Tempt a Witch to Sin. That’s why I’m glad I can write these bonus scenes, where I get to explore parts of this world and its characters that don’t make it into the books for different reasons. And I’ll happily share them with you!
