It had been her fault. The little Princess has thought her blood was enough. Perhaps she had thought herself immortal—never had her little games turned on her in such a way. Of course, she would have gotten burnt sooner or later, but she could never have seen the move coming from a member of her clan as well as her family. Her eyes had shone like stars with quiet worship until she learned exactly what it was to be cruel. The thought had always been delicious and crimson tinted, but as a man’s life was taken in a particularly cruel way right in front of her, it had been too late. There had been a terrible price to pay, and along with that she had learned her true colours. Broken and immensely disappointed in herself.
Her life was not as it should be. Nor would it ever be now—she could not imagine things would ever be alight. She was a bastard and so would her children be. She felt the ground under her feet slip away, seeking to tilt her over, but then Jael was there. His familiar scent spoke of home, because the siblings had only had each other for so long before they sought answers and scattered like leaves in the wind. The girl was lost, but she had found a place that she could stand to call home. An outsider would think she had everything, but the threads that were spun into her existence were particularly cruel. His pale arms closed around her, and the girl pressed her face against his warm, compact chest.
The steady pace of his heart seemed peaceful compared to her own. He was not the first to learn the truth about what happened. This was her shame—her greatest sin, but there was nothing to do about it now. Jael could not be disposed of. Never. Perhaps he would leave again and take the grotesque knowledge away with him, but right now he was all she had. Despite the shame burning in her cheeks, she felt so much better when the burden was shared. To think that Samael was her father was impossible and unreasonable, but she could not doubt her brother’s words. Her brother spoke, but the female remained silent—unable to process much thought about it. But yes, Samael deserved death.
Then, something happened. The coyote winced—crouched together suddenly as an unfamiliar pain struck her unexpectedly. Her first thought was that Jael had struck her. A hand fell to her stomach; to the barely visible bulge there. The pain struck again moments after, and this time a surprised whine escaped her shocked being. She leaned against the pale male and breathed. She felt really bad about this, and by the time the second ripple of pain—this longer lasting than the previous—washed through her, she understood what was about to happen. ”Oh, fuck!”
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