thus rushed this baby to her?
And what about this child? Who was she? Where did she come from? Aside from the information the pendant provided, she had no clue.
She didn’t know for how long she remained cradling Séraphine—or Sera, as Ares had pointed out—to her breast. When she snapped out of her daze, the baby had fallen asleep, the sustenance-providing nipple long forgotten.
The tightness in her chest had diminished. Did that mean that whenever she would start leaking milk, it was a sign the time had come to feed her daughter?
A daughter. She had a daughter.
Panic gripped her in a freezing hold, and she glanced around the room for an escape route. What was she getting herself into?
Then her gaze landed on a beautiful, carved wood cot in the corner near the window. Her curiosity piqued, Adri cradled the baby and tried to shuffle off the bed.
Distance. Perspective. She needed all of these.
With a slow, heavy gait, she trudged toward the cot. The linens wrapped around her lower body to stave the blood flow made her uncomfortable, and she detested that warm, wet sensation between her legs. She needed only her breasts to start leaking milk again and she’d be all set.
A bark of laughter escaped her. Adrasteia Dionysios, famed courtesan, regal heiress, daughter of a Greek god, and trained warrior from Mount Olympus, having to battle petty womanhood woes like too much milk and the flow of afterbirth. Who would’ve ever thought?
Thick linens and one of her cashmere throws adorned the cot amid wood buffed to a high shine. Who among the household servants had gone looking for such a piece of furniture from the attic and put it back into use overnight? She’d have to thank him or her.
Her arms refused to obey at first when she tried to lower the baby, but she forced herself to go through with it.
Parting is such a sweet sorrow....
She never wanted to be parted from this beautiful child, and the intensity of that conviction shook her. After placing the sleeping infant down into the cot, she stood near the bedside and closed her hands around the smooth wood edge.
What was happening to her? She was losing her mind, most probably. Centuries of living on Earth were getting to her, finally. She had gone off her rocker.
Her knuckles paled as she clenched the wood harder.
A baby. What would she do with a baby? She had zero maternal instincts, and on top of knowing she could never bear a life as she was an aberration born to a Greek god and a maenad, the desire for offspring had never hit her.
So why, and how, could this sudden change have happened? Séraphine deserved better, surely. A mother who knew what she was doing. Two parents who loved her. Growing up knowing of her heritage. What did Adri have to offer except for a cushy lifestyle?
Shreds of ice-cold dread wrapped themselves around her, and she shivered.
Please. Somebody help me....
And then, as if in answer to her plea, soft, mellow warmth radiated all over her.
Adri spun around, but the room was empty. So how come she felt such a soothing presence behind her? As if someone had her back, someone who was there to calm her all the way and reinforce that she had what it took to do the job. To be a good mother to this baby girl.
If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine a big, strong man pulling her back against his chest as he closed his gentle arms around her, ensconcing her in his protective embrace.
Adri took a deep breath, and when she blinked around the room again, nothing but emptiness greeted her.
Something urged her to look down, and as she peered at the cot, she found Séraphine looking up at her with big, blue-grey eyes wide open and that adorable cupid bow mouth curled in a little smile.
The soft, fleeting warmth she had felt minutes earlier returned, and suddenly, she knew without a doubt she would be—she was —the mother of this child.
Séraphine “Sera” Dionysios.
One question tumbled around in her head. Who are you really,
And what about this child? Who was she? Where did she come from? Aside from the information the pendant provided, she had no clue.
She didn’t know for how long she remained cradling Séraphine—or Sera, as Ares had pointed out—to her breast. When she snapped out of her daze, the baby had fallen asleep, the sustenance-providing nipple long forgotten.
The tightness in her chest had diminished. Did that mean that whenever she would start leaking milk, it was a sign the time had come to feed her daughter?
A daughter. She had a daughter.
Panic gripped her in a freezing hold, and she glanced around the room for an escape route. What was she getting herself into?
Then her gaze landed on a beautiful, carved wood cot in the corner near the window. Her curiosity piqued, Adri cradled the baby and tried to shuffle off the bed.
Distance. Perspective. She needed all of these.
With a slow, heavy gait, she trudged toward the cot. The linens wrapped around her lower body to stave the blood flow made her uncomfortable, and she detested that warm, wet sensation between her legs. She needed only her breasts to start leaking milk again and she’d be all set.
A bark of laughter escaped her. Adrasteia Dionysios, famed courtesan, regal heiress, daughter of a Greek god, and trained warrior from Mount Olympus, having to battle petty womanhood woes like too much milk and the flow of afterbirth. Who would’ve ever thought?
Thick linens and one of her cashmere throws adorned the cot amid wood buffed to a high shine. Who among the household servants had gone looking for such a piece of furniture from the attic and put it back into use overnight? She’d have to thank him or her.
Her arms refused to obey at first when she tried to lower the baby, but she forced herself to go through with it.
Parting is such a sweet sorrow....
She never wanted to be parted from this beautiful child, and the intensity of that conviction shook her. After placing the sleeping infant down into the cot, she stood near the bedside and closed her hands around the smooth wood edge.
What was happening to her? She was losing her mind, most probably. Centuries of living on Earth were getting to her, finally. She had gone off her rocker.
Her knuckles paled as she clenched the wood harder.
A baby. What would she do with a baby? She had zero maternal instincts, and on top of knowing she could never bear a life as she was an aberration born to a Greek god and a maenad, the desire for offspring had never hit her.
So why, and how, could this sudden change have happened? Séraphine deserved better, surely. A mother who knew what she was doing. Two parents who loved her. Growing up knowing of her heritage. What did Adri have to offer except for a cushy lifestyle?
Shreds of ice-cold dread wrapped themselves around her, and she shivered.
Please. Somebody help me....
And then, as if in answer to her plea, soft, mellow warmth radiated all over her.
Adri spun around, but the room was empty. So how come she felt such a soothing presence behind her? As if someone had her back, someone who was there to calm her all the way and reinforce that she had what it took to do the job. To be a good mother to this baby girl.
If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine a big, strong man pulling her back against his chest as he closed his gentle arms around her, ensconcing her in his protective embrace.
Adri took a deep breath, and when she blinked around the room again, nothing but emptiness greeted her.
Something urged her to look down, and as she peered at the cot, she found Séraphine looking up at her with big, blue-grey eyes wide open and that adorable cupid bow mouth curled in a little smile.
The soft, fleeting warmth she had felt minutes earlier returned, and suddenly, she knew without a doubt she would be—she was —the mother of this child.
Séraphine “Sera” Dionysios.
One question tumbled around in her head. Who are you really,
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