“No,” Ethan said. “I suppose we can count ourselves lucky that she doesn’t.”
Cool relief washed over me.
A long time passed as we sat in silence. I was fascinated by her little hands and her tiny feet, by her ridiculously golden eyelashes and the porcelain shade of her skin. You could certainly tell she was a dhampir because no human baby had ever had such vibrant, perfect features. Or maybe I just felt that way because she was mine.
“I don’t understand why we’re here,” I said, at long last breaking my reverie.
Ethan leaned forward and ran a finger down our baby’s cheek, his arm tight around my shoulders. I didn’t ever want to leave this moment.
“The doctor I had you seeing,” he started to explain in a gentle voice, “he does a lot of work for supernaturals, but in order to go unnoticed by the human population, he uses this hospital as a front. Half of the building is a normal, functioning psychiatric hospital and the other half is a supernatural hospital. I had you kept in the human half to keep the vampires from smelling your blood. You had a C-section, and I fed my blood to you intravenously to help you heal.”
“Ah, so that’s why I don’t have any scars. You know, I thought I’d had a mental break when I woke up here. How long have I been out for?”
“A month. The longest month of my life. For a while, we didn’t know if you would make it,” he answered, and there was a vulnerability in his voice.
I turned my head so that I could kiss his cheek. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that.”
He pulled me tighter into his side. “Don’t be sorry. I’d go through it a thousand times more if it meant I could have the both of you.” He paused. “So, what do you think we should call her?”
I gave him a surprised look. “She’s been alive a whole month and you haven’t even given her a name?”
“I wanted to wait for you. I thought you’d like to choose.”
I stared at her and wracked my brain for names, then gave her a little kiss on the top of the head when I came to the perfect decision. “I think we should call her Darya,” I said. “In honour of my mother.”
“I like that choice,” Ethan agreed. “Darya Cristescu.”
I smiled at him and he nuzzled my cheek. I rested my head on his shoulder and when I looked at Darya again, I found she’d fallen asleep. I breathed in deep and closed my eyes, letting the feeling of wholeness wash over me. For so long I felt alone in the world, but now I had a family. It might have been a difficult road to get here, but as Ethan said, I would go through it all a thousand times more just to have this one moment … right now.
END.
Thank you for reading Sunlight. Please consider supporting an indie author and leaving a review. If you’d like to read a bonus epilogue from Ethan’s point of view, make sure you’re signed up for my newsletter HERE. The bonus epilogue will be sent in my April newsletter <3
P.S. If you are eager to read more about Tegan and Ethan’s daughter, Darya, as well as other characters in this universe, keep an eye out for Foretold (A Tribane Institute Novel) coming soon from L.H. Cosway!
Six of Hearts Sneak Peek
If you enjoyed The Blood Magic Series then you might also like L.H. Cosway’s highly acclaimed Hearts Series, available now in Kindle Unlimited. Read on for a sneak peek of book #1, Six of Hearts.
BLURB:
When Jay Fields, world-renowned illusionist, walks into her dad’s law firm Matilda is struck speechless. Not only is he one of the most attractive and charismatic men she’s ever met, he’s also a mystery to be solved.
Jay wants to sue a newspaper for defamation, but all is not what it seems. Matilda is determined to discover the true story behind Jay, however, when he becomes an unexpected roommate, she is not ready for how he will wheedle his way into her affections and steal her heart.
The man is a mystery wrapped in an enigma, and though she can’t yet see the bigger picture, Matilda can’t resist following along for the thrilling and heart-stopping ride.
EXCERPT:
Making my way down the narrow staircase that leads out of the building and onto the street, I bump into a tall man with golden-brown hair. I wouldn’t normally notice a man’s hair so specifically, but this guy has some serious style going on. It’s cut tight at the sides and left long on the top, kind of like a sexy villain in a movie set in the 1920s. I stare up at him, wide-eyed. He’s wearing a very nice navy suit with a leather satchel bag slung over his shoulder. Even though it was the first thing I noticed, his hair pales in comparison to the wonder that is his face. I don’t think I’ve ever been up close to such a handsome example of the male species in my life.
Why can’t men like this write to me online? I ponder dejectedly.
Because men like this don’t even know the meaning of the term “socially awkward,” my brain answers.
My five-foot-something stares up at his six-foot-whatever, and I think to myself, what’s a prize like you doing in a dive like this? Actually, now that I’m looking at him, he does seem vaguely familiar, but I can’t put my finger on where I’ve seen him before.
Probably on the pages of a fashion magazine, if his looks are anything to go by.
If it hasn’t already been deduced from the fact that I can’t even find a date using the romantic connection slut that is the Internet, then I’ll spell it out. I’m useless with men, and I’m talking all men. Even the nice approachable fellows. And I’m not looking at a nice approachable fellow right now. I’m looking at a “chew you up and spit you out” tiger.
Rawr.
Since the entrance to the building is so narrow, we have to skirt around each other. I give him a hesitant smile and a shrug. His eyes sparkle with some kind of hidden knowledge as he lets me pass, like beautiful people know the meaning of the universe and are amused by us ordinary folks who have to bumble along in the dark.
I’m just about to step out the door when the tiger starts to speak. “I’m looking for Brandon Solicitors. Do you know if I have the right place?”
I step back inside.
He sounds like Mark Wahlberg when he’s letting his Southie roots all hang out. His deep American accent makes me want to close my eyes and savour the sound. But I don’t do that – because I’m not a complete psycho.
“Yeah, this is the place. I work here, actually. I’m the secretary slash receptionist slash general dogsbody. It’s my dad’s firm,” I reply. Too much information, Matilda. Too. Much. Information.
The tiger smiles, making him better-looking, if that’s even possible. And thankfully, he doesn’t comment on my fluster. “I have an appointment with Hugh Brandon at nine. I’m Jay,” he says, and takes a step closer to hold his hand out to me. My back hits the wall, his tall frame dwarfing mine. I don’t think he realises just how narrow this space is, and now I can smell his cologne. Wow, it’s not often that I get close enough to a man to smell him. And Jay Fields smells indecently good.
“Ah, right. Jay Fields. Yeah, I have you pencilled in. You can go on upstairs, and Dad will take care of you,” I reply, shaking his hand and letting go quickly so that he doesn’t notice my sweatacular palms. “I’ve got an errand to run.”