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With her head pressed to the center of my chest, I wonder if she can hear the uptick of my heartbeat. And the rush of happiness to my blood. Yet still, the subtle uncertainty in my voice as I echo, “The kids.” I wrap my hold all the way around her until I’m tenderly rubbing up and down her spine. “Not just ‘the kid’?”

She runs her own touch along the stretch of my collarbone. Her glowing fingers cause a soft sizzle as she strokes the worn leather. “I know exactly what I said, mister. And I know exactly what its implications are as well.”

I spread my hands and discernibly enforce my pressure. “Even if those girls might be mine and not yours?” And then press harder but for my own fortitude this time. “Even if their ‘mother’ is the most poisonous bitch to ever donate her DNA to a petri dish?”

“No.” She straightens until our faces are aligned with each other. “Not their mother,” she declares. “That half-baked hag might have parted with an egg or two to strike the spark, but no way is she their ultimate fire.” She jabs her chin higher. “No way is she their mother. And no way will she ever be.”

As she speaks, full of gorgeous husk and hellfire, all my reactions intensify. The gallop of my pulse is up to Triple Crown speed. The elation in my blood becomes a full-blown tsunami. But now more than ever, the apprehension in my mind refuses to remain at the level of baby badger chitters. This nasty-ass nag has grown up and now lunges for the pulp of my memories—in particular, one memory that won’t quit its repeat loop. It won’t back down, even after three days, because its existence blows apart the few puzzle pieces we’ve notched together so far. And the bridges we’ve finally started connecting to Mis and Ira. And the ways they already feel so much a part of us.

But the recollection keeps tormenting. Endlessly. Relentlessly.

You know, Alpha Two…we would have been beautiful together…but now you have openly admitted your insipid attachment to that blond peasant…so this is how it has to be. Shall we get on with things, then? Because the sooner you give me your liquid gold, the sooner they will be able to put it inside me. The sooner I will be the mother of a god!

She’d crooned all that while priming my balls and pumping my cock. I had no doubt what she wanted at the end of the speech, and it wasn’t my hearty applause. My jizz was going to be her key to bearing the god baby.

Except for one major glitch.

By that night, she’d already created that kid. Twice.

And the puzzle crumbles a little more.

And so does my decision about waiting until the “right moment” to relay all of that to Emma. My main deterrent has also been the most obvious: when it comes to Faline, first assumptions should never be counted as the most trustworthy. The twins may look like they were born five years ago by human standards—two and a half using mutant math—but those are only standards with which we’re familiar. For all we know, they’ve been sentient for only a month. And what about the fact that despite what Faline said in my memory, she never got anything more from me than a few drops of precome.

So how were Mis and Ira really created?

And is that really the question that matters?

Because as things stand, we can’t ignore that they exist. Yes, with the big Garand eyes and the unmistakable black curls—but also with those noble Richards noses, proud Richards shoulders, long Richards fingers…

And the connection that this Richards soul feels for them. With them…

Part of the magic I feel is from Emma’s incredible heart as she continues the lock of our stares and the resolve of her proclamation. A tenacity that sucks out my breath with its beauty. A strength that turns my whole damn system into a boulevard of brighter adoration. It all swirls and curls and twists through me before blurting out of me in an amazed, dazed rasp.

“So what are you telling me here exactly, Velvet?”

The woman dips her head and sends out a cute glance, as if she’s peering over the rims of Ray-Bans perched on her nose. “What you already know I’ll say, mind-reader guy.”

I blink hard. Get down a gulp of twice the weight. “Maybe I’m just having trouble believing it.”

“Are you serious?”

She stands up fast enough to knock the pretend shades off. At once, she’s standing in front of me with hands slammed to her waist. “Why?” Despite her casual outfit of plain leggings and a T-shirt with a smiley-faced lightning bolt on it, she evokes the same badassery as she would in her battle leathers—with the same searing effect on my cock.

She goes on, oblivious to my swelling physical frustration. “Do you really think I’m going to shun those girls for simply being brought into existence? For the genes that formed that existence? For the disgusting reasons they were told their lives had any significance at all? For all the things they could no more control than the breaths they took?”

Well, now that she puts it that way…

But nonetheless, I begin my reply with a callous shrug. Then an equally stern frown. “Some people would,” I supply and mean it. More than she probably wants to know about and likely refuses to. Which triples my adoration of her before she even formulates a comeback. Oh, but it’s coming. I already see it in the fires beneath her stunning blues and in the tearful shimmer that gives them such gorgeous depth.

“Well, I’m not some people.”

I spread my arms, reaching out to snare her wrists in my no-nonsense grip. “And I’m not ever going to stop being grateful for it.”

The prickles dissolve from her demeanor as I draw her closer, kissing her palms before laying them over my shoulders.

“Those girls are miracles, Reece,” she whispers as another round of excited squeals breaks out from the other room. “And they deserve to be told and shown that, each and every day. In as many ways as possible.”

I slide my hands down to her thighs. Coax her knees back up until she’s straddling me on the narrow velvet couch. “You’ve already started that magic, woman,” I whisper into the hollow of her throat. “You’re showing them by example because you’re the original miracle.” I tilt my head, angling so that I suckle the side of that elegant, creamy column…now vibrating with her shallow sighs and quickening breaths. “My miracle,” I murmur while licking along her carotid. “My superheroine. My goddess. My breath, my life…fuck.”