Kiera stirred restlessly in the king-size bed, placing both hands on the apex of her unbearably large, protruding belly.

After an hour of steamy, blissful lovemaking, Saxson had commanded her pregnancy at exactly one o’clock, early Friday morning. It was now 12:30 A.M. on Sunday, and their firstborn son would arrive in the next thirty minutes. Since they had chosen to proceed with a real, traditional wedding—albeit short, simple, and sweet—they had also decided to work the house of Jadon’s wedding and naming ceremonies into the human-plus-vampire event, and Napolean Mondragon had assured them he could make it happen.

One way or the other, Monday was going to be eventful.

Now, as Kiera grasped Saxson’s hands and looked into his endlessly hypnotic eyes, a small, contented smile curved along the corners of her mouth. “So, your greatest fear is not living up to all the sacrifices your older brother, Santos, made for you and Ramsey growing up? And your unfulfilled dream is to one day raise three strong boys of your own. Your greatest strength is remaining calm in the face of adversity…or danger; your greatest weakness is not always trusting your gut when it contradicts what you see, hear, or touch. Did I get anything wrong?”

Saxson’s stunning gaze softened. “No, my love, I think you understand me already, maybe better than many who know me.” He bent his head to kiss her stomach, something he had been doing more frequently. “Are you comfortable?”

“Other than being as large as this house, yes.” She squeezed Saxson’s hand in appreciation, knowing he was blocking any pain or uncomfortable sensations, taking them into his own body. Apparently, it was the way of the Vampyr—the males absorbed any and all discomfort from their females’ pregnancies. Her eyes narrowed. “Are you?”

He raised his brows in a casual manner. “It’s a bit…odd…the sensations.” He absently rubbed the soft shadow of his perfectly groomed goatee and redirected the conversation back to the previous subject: “And your greatest fear is a physical ailment, a loss of mental acuity or motor coordination—anything that would hamper your ability to play the violin. Your unrealized dream is—was—to forge a deeper relationship with your sister”—he sighed—“sadly, a dream that will never come to pass.” He acknowledged the loss with a silent pause, then continued: “Your greatest strength is your ability to adapt to changing situations, and your greatest weakness is second-guessing yourself too much. Am I also on track?”

Kiera sniffed and smiled wanly. “You get me, too, Mr. Olaru. Maybe, together, we can reinforce our weaknesses, rely on each other’s strengths…patch some of those lifelong holes.”

“I agree,” he said, then sighed. “I am sorry you lost your sister, Kiera, but at least you still have your parents, and now, you will have two very adoring, overprotective brothers. Not to mention a wonderful sister-in-law in Tiffany. Perhaps the two of you will be close.”

Kiera thought about it for a minute—she would like that. A lot. “I’m sorry you lost your parents, Saxson. I wish I could have met them, seen the people who raised such an honorable male, but mine will love you as their own—I’m sure of it—and maybe, together, we’ll have a beautiful family.”

Saxson nodded and brushed his hand absently through his light-ash hair. Kiera couldn’t help but wonder if he knew how handsome he looked when he did that, how sexy and debonair.

His lips curled upward. “I can hear your thoughts, iubito.”

She pointed at her massive belly. “We have fifteen minutes, and I’m a virtual whale—so don’t even think about it.”

He laughed.

Quickly changing the subject, she thought about his work, the duties he performed for Napolean Mondragon and the house of Jadon as one of the few elite sentinels. “So, you work twelve-hour shifts for the king, five to six days a week, and your days off rotate? Will I be able to see you at all while you’re working?”

His face lit up with appreciation—apparently, he had taken her question as a compliment: His destiny wanted to be with him…a lot. And it was true. “Of course; it will just depend on what I’m doing. If it’s dangerous or requires a lot of moving around, then no. But if it’s local or involves the house of Jadon’s businesses, there’s no reason you—and our son—cannot stop in, hang out, as long as you don’t distract me.” He waggled his eyebrows in a lascivious gesture, and she giggled.

Saxson Olaru was a highly sexual being.

Extremely sensual, incredibly passionate, and he had an insatiable appetite.

Kiera had never been quite that…active…but she figured she would quickly get used to it. “Well, I practice violin at least three hours a day,” she said, turning down the heat, “so it’s not like I won’t stay busy.” She frowned, thinking about her clients, the ones she would no longer see due to distance. “It may take me a while to build up a new clientele, to find a local orchestra, if there is one, but I imagine I’ll stay busy, especially with our son.”

Saxson glanced at his watch, though it wasn’t really necessary. From what he had shared with her, a male vampire was intimately aware of every hour, minute, and second of his female’s progressing pregnancy. “Our son will be here soon,” he mused. “Perhaps we should call him something other than son. Have you given it any more thought?”

Kiera bit her bottom lip and gazed out the bedroom window, taking in the glorious moonlit view of the surrounding canyon. “So, I think Dark Moon Vale is mythical…majestic…and I think our story is legendary, like an epic poem just waiting to be written.”

Saxson tapped his forefinger against the tip of her nose in a playful, affectionate gesture. “And I think my destiny is a hopeless romantic.”

Kiera rolled her eyes. “Unlike the guy who built a three-acre rose garden, over several centuries, for a woman he’d never met.”

Saxson furrowed his brows. “Okay…I might resemble that…a little.”

Kiera laughed.

“So you want to name our baby Mythical Majestic Olaru?”

This time, Kiera slapped him on the arm. “I want to name him Legend.”

Saxson leaned back on the bed, growing quiet. He paused for a moment, thinking it over before he slowly nodded. “I like that. I really like that. The fact that it has special meaning.” He sat forward once again and lovingly stroked her belly. “And the name Dominic; it means of the Lord…of the gods. I think the two go together.”

Kiera tasted the name on her tongue. “Legend Dominic Olaru.” Her eyes lit up, and she smiled. “Done.” And then she grew inwardly pensive. “It’s all too easy—you and me—the way we fit, the way we think, how easily we’ve come to know each other in such a short time.” She took a harsh intake of breath and shuddered. “It scares me, Saxson, because it is so easy—I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

At this, Saxson bent over and kissed her lightly on the lips, hovering for a sustained moment over her mouth. Gazing into her eyes, he whispered, “Our joining, Kiera, our coming together; it was anything but easy. Yet here we are, already bonding. The celestial gods are as ancient as time and as wise as the ocean is deep. They knew what they were doing, iubito. You fit me like a hand in a glove, and you always will. There is much to fear in the life we will lead in Dark Moon Vale—a world full of treacherous enemies—but you and I, together, as a mated couple, that is our special sanctuary. It will always be so.” He touched his hand to his heart, and then to hers. “My heart—and yours—our own secret garden. Always, Kiera. Always.”

Kiera’s eyes misted with tears, and she tried to blink them away. “Is it too soon,” she whispered, almost afraid to give the words voice, “to tell you I love you? To say it aloud? Because I do, Saxson, and it isn’t some childlike fantasy, a girl swept away in a fairy tale. I already love you more than I thought was possible.”

Saxson closed his eyes.

He bowed his head, drew a deep breath, and slowly reopened them.

Then he cupped her cheeks in his palms, bent his forehead to rest on hers, and matched her quiet, reflective tone: “I love you, too, Kiera Sparrow, more than all the stars in the celestial sky.” He let the silence linger, and then he slowly exhaled. “It’s time, angel. What would you have me do about—”

“The unnamed one.” She finished his sentence with ease.

“Yes,” he whispered, still pressing his forehead to hers.

Kiera had already thought it over, and she knew what she needed from her warrior in order to get through it. “I don’t want to see him, Saxson, to meet him, to watch you take him away. If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to keep with the season of new beginnings and harvest—I’d like to concentrate solely on the good. At least for a while longer.”

Saxson kissed her forehead, her nose, and then her lips, his feather-light touch reassuring. “I’ve had seven hundred years to get used to this Curse, Kiera; you’ve had just over one week. I would like nothing more than to shield you from anything unpleasant.”

She smiled with gratitude, and then her belly rolled in a swelling, undulating wave—the babies were growing restless.

They were ready to meet their parents.

* * *

Saxson sat up, knelt on the bed, and placed both palms over Kiera’s stomach. Since it was late at night, or early in the morning—depending upon one’s perspective—and Ramsey had a mate and a child, he called on his big brother, Santos. Sentinel, he said telepathically, pushing his way into the warrior’s mind. It’s time.

The six-foot-three vampire materialized in the room instantly, his eyes immediately meeting Kiera’s.

“Kiera, this is Santos,” Saxson said. “Santos, this is my destiny, Kiera.”

Santos lowered his head in a respectful nod. “Greetings, sister,” he said softly. Then he glanced at her belly and winked. “Welcome to the house of Jadon.”

Kiera lifted her fingers in a semblance of a wave. “Nice to meet you, Santos.” Her belly undulated again, and Saxson got straight to business. He closed his eyes, bowed his head, and recited an ancient, eloquent prayer in his ancestral language. And then he called his sons into the world, and readied himself to react to the Dark One—who knew which babe would come first.

The bedroom filled with brilliant prisms of light, miniature cascades of color, shimmering as if behind a waterfall, forming a glorious arc above the bed. The arc glistened in the moonlight, narrowing its focus, until a single pinpoint of radiance hovered above Kiera’s pregnant belly.

A light dusting of flakes—some like gold dust, others like volcanic ash—shimmered outward from that singular point, intermixing in a gold, black, and grayish helix.

What the hell?

A beautiful, harmonious chord echoed in the distance, only to be vanquished by a harsh, dissonant chime, and Saxson immediately got it—

The children were emerging as one.

Light and dark, being born together.

“Kiera,” he called evenly, his voice neither rising nor falling.

Her beautiful dark brown eyes met his, and they were filled with such sincerity…such trust…that he couldn’t help but smile.

“Go to sleep, iubito.”

There was a momentary hesitation as understanding flashed through her eyes, and her pupils widened. But then her long, dark lashes fluttered downward, and her eyelids eclipsed her surprise.

The mixture of bright and inky colors began to form an outline hovering over her belly, and then, just like that, the colors separated, and two distinctly different children emerged: one with soft hazel eyes speckled with hints of gold, the other with dark brown caverns, absent of luminosity. Both had Kiera’s silky blond hair.

The child of light flailed his arms, his head turning side to side, seeking a pair of welcoming arms, even as the dark, soulless child twisted to the left, hissed like a baby cobra, and tried to strike his brother.

Santos Olaru’s hand shot out, intercepting the tiny fangs before they could lock onto Legend, while Saxson cradled the seeking babe beneath his head and buttocks. He drew him to his chest, pressed a kiss on his sweet-smelling forehead, and breathed a sigh of relief. “Take the Dark One to the living room; I need to awaken Kiera. Then I will have you sit with her while I go to the Chamber.”

Santos Olaru pressed his thumb and forefinger on either side of the Dark One’s jaw, preventing him from biting. “Would you like me to call Ramsey? Do you want someone to go with you?”

Saxson shook his head.

The question required no audible answer.

They were sentinels in the house of Jadon, and the laws were written on their hearts…

There would be no second-guessing or hesitation, no need for supportive backup.

As mercenaries when needed, enforcers when called, and the extended hands of Napolean Mondragon, the sacrificial ritual would be clinical, obedient, and exact.

Understanding his brother’s answer, Santos disappeared from sight, taking the Dark One with him.

“Kiera, angel, wake up,” Saxson called, nestling beside her on the bed.

Her beautiful trusting eyes fluttered open, and Saxson smiled for all he was worth. “Legend Dominic Olaru, meet your amazing mother.” He offered the child to Kiera, who sat up, braced her back against a pillow, and took the child in her arms, cradling him against her chest.

She gasped in surprise and wonder, unable to find any words. Her eyes shot from Legend to Saxson, then back to the cooing infant.

“I know,” Saxson whispered. “He’s…perfect.”

Kiera closed her eyes, inhaled the baby’s scent, and pressed her forehead to his, even as Saxson placed a strong, loving arm around her shoulders and nestled his chin in her hair.

They were a family.

She was home.

And his contentment was truly legendary.