horror of the vision she'd experienced.
"They are the Umbrae. They are those who would wipe
out the Light and rule the Earth. I shared a re-visioning
with you, a memory of mine."
Laurell barely registered Axiom's words. The screams of
tormented souls still reverberated in her head. "I don't want
to see them again."
"Hopefully, you will not have to." Axiom sighed and
lifted her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. For the first
time, she didn't shrink back. She hadn't the energy.
"Please know I regret having to show you in such a harsh
manner. I did not know how else to make you believe me."
Laurell shrugged out of his grip. She had to get control of
herself. "Fine. I get it. I have to help you save the world. Somehow, you and I will make a baby who will rescue the
planet." The words sounded hollow to her ears, but Laurell
knew in her gut what she'd just experienced was real.
"You never drugged me, did you?" Her words were less a
question than a statement. "This is all real, isn't it?" She
watched Axiom carefully, still hoping for a rational explanation.
He grimaced and nodded. "Again, I am sorry, but yes. It
is real."
Laurell's head fell into her hands and she let out a hysterical laugh. What a joke. What a cruel joke.
"You are in shock. I should get you warm. I will light the
fire." He stood and helped her to her feet. She wobbled toward the fireplace on unsteady legs, but refused the chair
he offered, afraid she'd be unable to stand again if she sat.
She watched Axiom toss a log into the fireplace.
"God knows I should be in shock after all I've been through
over the past twenty-four hours, but no, I don't think I am,"
Laurell told him.
Axiom's hands stilled. "Then why did you laugh again?
What amused you this time?"
"You."
He jerked around to face her. "Me?"
"Yup. Because, you don't even realize how ridiculous it is
to think I can give birth to the savior of the planet."
Axiom's jaw hardened. "Ridiculous how?"
Laurell's heart twisted as though it would rip in two.
"You ever hear of a thing called endometriosis?"
He raised his eyebrows in question.
"Well," she continued, "I've suffered from it my whole
life. One of its side effects is infertility."
He didn't respond to that bit of news, but sorrow
tinged his features. Why is he sad? I'm the infertile one. Lau yell straightened her spine and stubbornly blinked away the
tears that threatened to spill.
"I can't have kids, Axiom. You've got the wrong girl."
Head held high, she stalked past him toward the door. She
refused to let him see just how deep the admission cut.
Having a child of her own had been her one shot at having
a family. A real family.
The scent of sandalwood alerted her to Axiom's presence
behind her. His arms wound around her and held her. His unexpected tenderness almost did her in. She let herself linger
there for a moment, just enjoying being touched. It had been
a long time since she'd been held by anyone.
She remembered the knife then. Could he feel it in her
jeans? The thing had become damn uncomfortable there,
scraping against her back. Thank god for the dish towel
covering it. And her baggy sweatshirt.
Laurell tensed and pulled herself from his arms. He started
to touch her, but she raised her palms to him. "Just give me a
minute, okay?"
Axiom nodded and settled her into a chair with a blanket. This time she sat gratefully. She was so damn tired.
Suddenly she didn't care if she never got out of that chair
again. The fire crackled and spit. She heard pots banging,
cupboards slamming shut.
The air filled with the scent of fried eggs and bacon. Her
stomach growled. Moments later, Axiom handed her a plate
of food and a glass of orange juice. He sat in a recliner next
to her, and silence reigned as they consumed their food. Out
of the corner of her eye, she observed him. He ate with
vigor, sighing with unrestrained pleasure when he chewed
the bacon. Her own belly pulsed with want of food
Carey Corp, Lorie Langdon