Beauty's Beast - By Jenna Kernan Page 0,92

pulling Samantha behind him. His senses rose to alert, but he heard nothing and smelled only powder and clean linen. Then it reached him, the scent of his own kind. The hairs on his neck rose.

He pushed past her to meet this challenger.

“Alon,” Samantha whispered, capturing his arm in a surprisingly strong grip. “Quietly.”

If she expected to sneak up on a Ghostling, she did not know his kind. None ever found them sleeping.

Alon stood in the strange small room, sweeping the corners for some threat. His head turned, his eyes darted and he saw nothing, no one.

Samantha pushed in, standing beside him. He remained on alert.

“Where is he?” Alon asked.

“Where is who?”

“The male Ghostling. I have his scent.”

The furniture was odd. The dresser held a small plastic pad upon it, and there was a low rocker, two covered baskets and what seemed to be a topless cage made of wood that sat on wheeled legs. Blankets and bedding filled the little container. Above it hung a series of small fluffy creatures tied on strings.

He did not know what this was or why he could not see his rival. He searched the ceiling for the familiar gray smoke but found nothing.

“What is this place?” he said, now keeping his voice hushed as uncertainty filled him.

“Haven’t you ever seen one like it?” she asked.

Was that amusement in her voice? He glanced toward her and saw her smiling.

“Never.”

She snuggled against him, resting her head upon his shoulder. Clearly she perceived no threat. He allowed her to bring him forward toward the square box with wooden slats along one side and a funny little blanket draped over the other.

“Here they are,” she whispered.

They? Alon followed Samantha’s lead, leaning to peer into the raised box. Inside were two tiny pink babies, sleeping side by side with their hands clasped.

He rocketed upright and backed away. He did not stop until he hit the windowsill. Alon tried and failed to speak and succeeded only in lifting one hand to point at the infants.

Samantha crossed to him. “Alon, breathe. You’re turning purple.”

His mouth gaped like a hooked bass, and finally the air returned to his lungs.

“Babies!” he gasped.

She giggled. “Babies,” she agreed, capturing his raised hand and lacing her fingers into his.

His gaze jumped from the sleeping box to her. She smiled indulgently at him as she stroked his cheek with her free hand.

His head spun. He could swear the floor beneath him heaved, for he had to stagger a step to keep from being tossed to the carpet. Samantha held on, an anchor in his stormy sea.

Fingers of anxiety squeezed his larynx. “Mine?”

But they couldn’t be. They were pink and perfect. She shook her head and he covered his eyes as the truth tore into him. She had found another, had had another the entire time she was with him. Who was he? Where was he? And why had he left her here alone to raise these children?

“Alon, look at me.” She lifted his chin and waited until he opened his eyes. He stared down into the perfection of her face and the lovely dark calm of her eyes. “They’re not yours. They’re ours.”

And he knew it was so, could feel the truth of her words echoing in his heart, but more than that. He perceived her anxiety over his reaction to this news, her hope that he would accept them and her dread that he would not. What was happening here? He released her hands and clasped her shoulders so he could stare at her smiling face.

“Ours?”

She nodded, her sweet, lush mouth curling into a smile as pride beamed in her eyes.

“Yes. Ours. You’re a papa. This was what I had to show you. If you still want to marry me, you will not gain just a wife, but also a family.”

“But how?”

She laughed and patted his hand. “The usual way.”

Her love for him vibrated through him from the point of contact and traveled to his heart.

“But you’re alive. The birth, I don’t understand.”

She snuggled against his side, wrapping her arms about his torso as she rested her head against his chest.

“Helped to have two healers and two Seers and a Ghost Child in the family. Oh, and a midwife, too.”

He looked horrified and she realized what he thought. “Did it hurt?”

“Just the usual amount. A normal C-section and my dad healed me the same day.”

Alon gathered her up in his arms as relief swept through him. It was one of his fears, that she would