My Maddie (Hades Hangmen #8) - Tillie Cole Page 0,16

his head. But he triumphed over the degrading words it spoke and gradually found a steady tempo.

He ran his hands through my hair, caressing and loving me. I did not need the words to be spoken. I love you. He did tell me on occasion, but even if he never could, I would have known instinctively it was true. I was cherished. I had found my soul’s other half. “Flame,” I moaned as butterflies began to build inside me.

Flame did not speak. He simply absorbed our connection, this moment purely for us two. As he framed my head with his arms, Flame’s eyes began to close. I was enraptured by his delicate protective hold, by the flush on his cheeks. Pleasure built and built at my core. Just as Flame stilled, his lips parting in silent ecstasy, I was wrapped in sensation too. Broken apart into fragments of light, only to be placed together again by the feel of Flame’s forehead against my own—we were magnets, pulling together even when shattered apart. Silence stretched as we caught our lost breaths. Flame slipped to the side, and I curled to look at his flushed face. I took his hand that was lying in the space between us.

“You’re not sick?” Flame asked again, still breathless. Even now, he was worried. He needed conformation that I was okay. I saw the worry on his face, in the way his cheeks twitched.

I swallowed. I had to tell him the truth.

The warmth I felt from our joining quickly dissipated as I became racked with trepidation.

“Maddie?”

Taking a deep breath, I guided his hand to my stomach. A thick lump of emotion grew in my throat as I placed his palm on my abdomen. I could see by his blank stare that Flame did not understand the significance, did not even feel the small, telling bump. I cleared my tight throat. “I am not sick.” Flame watched me so closely, so affectionately, it gave me the confidence to add, “I… I am pregnant.”

I stilled, awaiting his response. Flame blinked, but otherwise did not move. His hand did not even tighten in mine. I shifted closer until we shared the same pillow, and I read his face. He did not understand… or worse, he was frozen with shock. “Flame,” I prompted. His black eyes burned into mine. “I am with child. Our child. We have made a baby.”

It took a few minutes, but I knew when the information had struck home. I saw his face pale to a deathly white. Flame’s hand slackened in mine, and his gaze fell to my stomach. Flame began shaking his head, his eyes lifting. They were so wide and filled with fear that it destroyed my heart. “Flame,” I whispered.

“No.” His voice was laced with shards of glass. “No!” he echoed louder, wrenching his hand back from my stomach as though it were a deadly poison. Flame scrambled off the bed. “No!”

“Flame, baby, listen, please,” I begged, moving ever so slowly to a sitting position.

Flame backed away to the wall behind. “I can’t have a kid,” he stated, and I felt a million daggers being plunged into my heart in one swift blow. He could not keep still. He paced, his hands pulling violently on his dark hair, which was mussed by our joining. “Maddie.” His face contorted as if he were in agony. “I can’t, we can’t…” He sucked in a quick breath. “I’ll hurt it.”

“No.” I disagreed and moved off the bed. Flame fled to the door. His hand fumbled on the doorknob. Tears built in my eyes as I watched him coming so undone. The door opened as a deep moan of pain poured from Flame’s mouth. He staggered into the living area. I pulled on my nightgown and followed him through. I found him at the back of the room, pacing. “No, no, no, no,” he mumbled, over and over again. But that was not what had me hurt. It was where he was standing.

I held out my hands. “Talk to me, Flame. Everything will be okay. I promise.” I stretched my hand out farther. “Please…” My throat was thick with emotion which inhibited my voice. “Everything will be okay.”

Flame raised his arms and studied his wrists. His breathing was labored as though he had run many miles. Sweat beaded on his skin, droplets tracking down his back and over his brow. “They killed him,” Flame said, his quiet confession a fatal bullet wound to my soul.