Series: The Sacrifice Series by Natasha Knight
Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Is this where you bring her every morning?” Willow asks, taking our baby in her arms and cuddling her.
I watch them, mother and daughter together. Amélie plants a wet kiss on her cheek and burps up a little milk.
“Nice,” Willow says, wiping it away from Amélie’s chin and her own face as her daughter gives her a wide, gummy smile.
“You should sleep in. You need your rest,” I tell Willow as I tug her robe higher over her shoulders.
“I’m fine. I’m great actually.” She reaches up to plant a kiss on my lips. “What did you say to her?” she asks. “I heard you whisper something.”
“Oh.” I feel a little embarrassed and glance away. “I told her that she will grow up to be as beautiful as her mother.”
“That’s all?”
“Were you eavesdropping?”
“Azrael, tell me.”
I glance away from her. “Nothing. Just wishing her to inherit only the best of us.” I only look at her after saying the words quickly.
Willow studies me for a long minute as Amélie coos. She smiles warmly. “You don’t have to worry. Look at your daughter, Azrael.” I do, smiling as she struggles against the closing of her eyelids. “She would banish any darkness that dared try to touch her. She’s as stubborn as you, after all.”
At that, I shift my gaze to Willow to find her grinning mischievously.
“Stubborn as me? You mean stubborn as a Wildblood. One Wildblood in particular,” I say, setting a hand at Willow’s back to lead the way back toward the house. “Look at that hair. It’s scientifically not possible.”
“Science has nothing on witchcraft,” Willow tells me with a wink as we reach the stairs. She climbs two and stops to face me. She’s almost at chin level now.
“Like I said, stubborn,” I repeat and take her into my arms, careful not to disturb the now sleeping Amélie as I kiss her, believing her entirely that our daughter would banish any darkness that dared try to touch her. She is the product of an impossible love, and that can only breed strength.
Willow stands back and looks up at me. Keeping hold of Amélie in one hand, she reaches into the pocket of her robe with the other and takes out that sheet of paper I’d left for her. She raises her eyebrows.
I smile and take it from her. Opening it, I look at the sketch the tattoo artist made after much trial and error, but I think it’s perfect. It’s a willow tree, standing tall and strong and beautiful. Through its branches shines the golden light of a crescent moon.
“It’s about time I overwrite Shemhazai’s image on my skin, don’t you think?” I ask her. The tattoo is too large to remove, but this is a better alternative anyway. Good winning over evil. Love over hate. Willow’s eyes grow damp. “Don’t you like it?” I ask, suddenly worried.
She climbs up on tiptoe. “I do. I love it. And I love you so very much. Do you know that?”
I hold her to me, that swelling in my chest somehow impossibly more.
“Come, Little Witch. Let’s get this little one to her crib and go back to bed ourselves.”
“I’m not sleepy anymore.”
“Who said anything about sleep?”