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Tires squealed and the Tahoe slammed to a stop in front of us, blocking my view of the bastard pulverizing my insides. The back door swung open and Damian climbed in with me in his arms, before we even settled in the seat, the door closed, pulled by whatever psychic magic the men in the car possessed. Steve gunned the engine and I had a moment to capture Lucifer’s angry glare as we sped off. The farther away we got, the looser the tightness in my abdomen became.
I hyperventilated, leaning over as far as my oversized stomach would allow and slowly, my seized lungs released, allowing oxygen to flow until the pain finally abated.
“Why isn’t he following?” I asked when I had my voice back.
“I painted the symbols on the ceiling.” Steve pointed to the roof of the car and I looked up.
The deep red etched in the grey fabric pulled a gasp from my throat. “Is that blood?”
“Yes,” he answered and raised his left hand. I caught the make-shift bandage wrapped around his palm. “It’s all we had.” He glanced in the mirror, meeting my gaze for a moment. “I’ll swing into the drive through somewhere in Brooksfield for you. It won’t be much longer. Okay?”
I nodded, despite the incessant rumbling in my stomach.
“Maybe you should drop me off on the side of the highway and take her somewhere safe,” Damian said.
I shot an open-mouthed gape in his direction and shook my head. “No! You’re not going to be a martyr this time. You’ve done that too many times before and every time you decide to make the sacrifice, you come within a hair’s breadth of death. It’s not happening again.”
“But...” he started.
“No,” I growled through clenched teeth. The prickling of the transition started and I pushed it back. I didn’t have room to transition in the car and I certainly didn’t want to find out how far along I’d be when I snapped back to human form.
“Naomi, it’s dangerous for me to be here. I’m the damned magnet that leads them right to us every time.”
“You need to be with us, Damian,” Steve said. “You’re the only one who can stop that maniac.”
“CJ could stop him,” Damian argued and I gave him a sideways glance, trying to understand what made CJ Ryan so special, beyond his uncanny similarity to my husband.
“He can’t,” Ty’s detached voice said. “Even on hallowed ground, he’s still doesn’t have the power to kill the devil.”
Fear flashed over Damian’s features and he swallowed, dropping his gaze. I didn’t have to be a mind reader to know he was replaying every brutal encounter with Lucifer. When he looked out the window, his jaw tightened, followed by his grip on my hand.
The minute his gaze came back to mine, I shivered at the raw fury filling his bright-blue eyes.
Damian’s anger filled the car and instead of hitting it head on like I normally would, I curled up on the seat, putting my head in his lap. My stomach had turned to a roiling mess and I was in need of a little tender loving care.
He sighed and started slowly hand combing my hair. The triplets had started doing acrobatics in the small space and my back ached from the strain. I just wanted a normal pregnancy and a quiet life raising my children with Damian.
I wanted peace.
My eyelids closed under his continued pampering and he started singing for my benefit. Soft and sweet, pulling me under the blanket of sleep.