Solomon just smirked, and bit his full bottom lip. Damn. He was really super pretty. It was a shame that my weakness for pretty guys got me into my current situation. I was swearing off men for life, especially humans with guns and bad attitudes.
Cain rolled his eyes. “Shots, do you think Sweetie could make Sera some pancakes?”
Shots grinned at me, though all I could see was a flash of white beneath the big ginger beard. Shit, how did he eat though that thing?
“Sure thing, VP.” He turned, pushing through the swinging doors to the kitchen.
Someone turned up the music, and one of the girl’s stood on a table, and danced around in her tiny skirt. I was pretty sure she wasn’t wearing underwear, because the guys sitting around the table were looking up her skirt like it held a feast.
Solomon leaned closer. “Dancers from the stripclub up front.” He wasn’t apologizing, or rationalising. It was what it was, and he was just giving me more information. If he thought I was perturbed by a few strippers, he was sorely mistaken.
Shots returned to the bar, pouring me a coke. “Sorry we don’t have any juice. I’ll get some in. And some milk. That’s what Sweetie wanted when she had our kids.”
I gave him a smile and murmured my thanks. Cain took a huge gulp of beer. We sat in silence for a moment, like none of us knew what to say. Well, I certainly didn’t. If I asked too many questions, they’d start asking questions. Questions I couldn’t answer. I watched the room with ancient eyes, cataloguing the people, the feel of the humans in close proximity.
Sweetie bustled out of the kitchen, a huge stack of pancakes in her hands. She placed it in front of me and death-glared the guys on either side of me. “There you go. Keep your hands off,” she said to Cain and Solomon. “When are you due, love?”
I swallowed hard. In all honesty, I had no idea. Time moved differently in Purgatory for everyone, though I’d been there at least five years earth time, but only three months Purgatory time. But after I came out, it felt like my body and my baby were trying to play catch up. Was it because it was a Nephilim baby? How quickly did they grow? From what I’d searched on the internet, the baby was moving enough to be in my third trimester. I could feel its kicks, it’s movements. I had no reference here and I wanted to cry. Instead, I sucked in a deep breath. “In a couple of months.” Non-specific enough.
She nodded sagely. “Taking your vitamins?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t tell her that I’d been imprisoned in Purgatory for the previous five years, but needless to say that there weren’t any prenatal vitamins there. When I’d been rescued, it had all been so crazy; realizing I was pregnant then calling Hope and getting shipped off with Cain. There’d been no time to think about things like prenatal vitamins. And now I wanted to cry.
Sweetie must have seen it coming, because she reached across the bar and squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry about it, love. I’ll pick you up some on my way here tomorrow. Some of the other Old Ladies have had their share of kids and probably have a bunch of baby stuff cluttering up their garages if you want some of it.”
Solomon took a swig of his beer. “I’ll buy her new stuff, if she wants it.”
I was shaking my head before he’d even finished. “No, thank you,” I said softly to Solomon. I didn’t need to be indebted to these men more than I already was. I smiled at Sweetie. “If anyone has anything they are going to donate anyway, I’ll happily take it. Nothing too… big.”
No furniture that I couldn’t take with me when I had to leave. If I had to run.
Sweetie nodded knowingly, her eyes sad. She nailed Cain with a stern look. “Fix this.” Then she strutted back into the kitchen.
Cain shook his head. “You wouldn’t know that this was a patriarchal club with the way she speaks to us.”
Shots looked nervous. “Sorry, VP.”
Cain waved him away. “Don’t stress it, Shots. Sweetie has us by the balls and she knows it. She hooked us in with her food and now she may as well be Pres.”
Solomon laughed, finishing his beer. “Do you dance, Serendipity?” he purred.
I loved to dance. Was I going to dance with this man? Every ounce of my self-preservational instincts screamed no. But when was the last time I’d done anything as simple as dance with a handsome man?
So ignoring my brain, I nodded and stood. I narrowed my eyes at Cain. “Don’t eat my pancakes,” I said, embarrassed by how much it sounded like a growl. Cain threw back his head and laughed, drawing the eyes of every person in the room.
“Go on. I’ll protect your pancakes.”
Solomon walked me onto the dance floor, pulling me into his body, though he kept enough space between us to keep it just this side of respectable. He placed a large warm hand on my waist and laced his fingers with mine, tucking our hands close to our bodies. The sound of some old bluesy country song came over the speakers, the beat slow and meandering, the singer crooning about how his lover was like a bottle of whiskey. Solomon rocked us from side to side in a two step that was surprisingly graceful. He moved my body as if he knew it intimately. He didn’t speak, happy to just press my body to his chest and I rested my head on his shoulder. It felt nicer than anything I had had in a long, long time. Years. Decades.
Of course, the baby took that moment to intrude on the normalcy of my life, kicking where my stomach rested against Solomon.
He looked down at me. “Hungry?”
I couldn’t help but smile. He thought the baby kick was my stomach rumbling. “No. It’s the baby kicking.”
The look on his face made me laugh out loud. It was somewhere between shock, joy and horror. He settled on joy. “Can I?”
I swallowed hard. My first instinct was to say no. I was in denial. Like, if no one else felt the baby kick, then maybe I was just constipated or something. I took a deep breath and nodded. He placed a gentle hand on my stomach, still rocking us gently. The baby obligingly kicked his palm. His awe at the sensation was a little contagious, and I found myself grinning. Before I knew what was happening, Cain was there, grinning down at me with the same question in his eyes.
Solomon twirled me into the huge man’s arms. “You should dance, Big Man. The baby likes it,” he said over his shoulder as he walked back toward the bar.
I nodded, and Cain wrapped me in his arms. His hand spanned most of my lower back, and he moved in large, awkward steps, not nearly as graceful as Solomon. Still, he kept the beat and tucked me under his chin and it felt soothing. Safe.
I let him place his hand, which was even bigger than Solomon’s, across my stomach. “I wanted to do this earlier, but I’m not that damn rude. I got the feeling that the whole baby thing wasn’t sitting well with you,” he murmured against my hair.
I bit my lip, working hard to keep my body loose. “It’s been a surprise. I mean, I didn’t know. I didn’t realize until I couldn’t ignore the signs anymore. I mean, I was starving, terrified,” his hand flexed ever so gently in mine. “And then I was free of that place and him and that was supposed to be the end of it, you know? But then I realized there was this constant reminder growing inside of me and I resented the shit out of it. I felt terrified he’d find out and I’d end up back there again.” I swallowed hard and snapped my jaw shut. I’d said too much. My nervousness had made the baby do acrobatics inside my womb, giving Cain the show of his life.